Page 4 of A Gentleman's Reckoning
He paused, and she realized she was staring. Her manners had fled.
“Lady Eugenia,” she corrected. “Good day, Mr. Rowles. Please, resume your seat.” She gestured to his chair and took the one across the table. Not directly across, for that seemed too intimate. The table was not wide.
“My lady,” he murmured before sitting again. His brow had wrinkled, and he seemed as much at a loss as she was.
Mr. Rowles was likely not accustomed to dealing with women in such a capacity, but he would soon learn that she cared too much for the children to give up her active interest in the asylum. As for her, she was struggling to make sense of who he was. Not once had she imagined a gentleman applying for the role of steward—and such a distinguished one at that. It wasas though a member of thetonhad come calling here in the orphanage. It was out of place.
“I understand you are here to serve in the capacity of steward for the asylum’s financial and daily operations,” she began in a brisk tone. It would be better to direct them to the matter at hand without delay. “What experience do you have to recommend you in assuming this role?”
He looked at her oddly, and she could easily guess why. He wondered what she, an earl’s daughter, was doing taking a hand in the inner workings of the orphanage. It was one thing to volunteer. Many gently bred women did that. But to interview him as though he—a man—were her inferior? It was not as though Mr. Peyton had not already interviewed him for the position. But she would not back down. This was her orphanage. Or, more accurately, it was her father’s, and it had been a project close to her mother’s heart. She would not let it be run into the ground because some gentleman had decided to take over the operations for a lark. It would not surprise her in the least if that was what this was.
“I have served as steward to a gentleman’s estate,” he answered at last.
So, he wasnota gentleman. How was it then that he looked so much like one? His gaze remained unwaveringly upon hers as he replied, and she had to fight the urge to lower her eyes.
“If you held such an honorable position, why have you sought and accepted this one?” she asked. She did not mean to sound accusatory, but it was a curious thing to give up the running of a gentleman’s estate to work in a foundling asylum, unless it was because…
“Was the estate solvent?”
A hint of a smile—a scant turning up of the lips—appeared on his face. It was so brief she almost missed it, but it made Mr. Rowles more attractive—dangerously so, she admitted to herself, if she were to be in his presence on a regular basis. Itshould not even be a consideration for she was so far above him in station, but shewasa woman.
“I assure you, Lady Eugenia, I left the estate entirely solvent and in the capable hands of the next steward. I have not come from ruining one gentleman’s estate with the intention of repeating the blunder with your asylum. I hope that reassures you of my capacity—andmy intentions.”
She did not trust him.
Geny allowed her gaze to drop, resisting the urge to fidget, then brought it steadily back to his. She would ask the question that was foremost in her mind. “May I ask why you wish to take on the position of steward here if you had an estate to run, which must surely be a more satisfactory—and better-paid—position? It hardly seems logical.”
He spread his hands briefly, then interlaced his fingers on the table. “Let us just say that I wish to take on this position for personal reasons. When I spoke with Mr. Peyton, I was under the impression that my skills would be welcome.” He left the rest unsaid. That he had not expected to be grilled as soon as he entered the premises.
“You must understand, Mr. Rowles. My father began the foundling asylum”—she paused briefly when she saw the flash of surprise on his face—“and it was of particular interest to my late mother. I am intimately involved in every aspect of the orphanage.”
“Your father, then, is…”
“The Earl of Goodwin.” He had not known her father was Lord Goodwin, she realized. This relieved her mind of one thing at least. He had not come in hopes of worming his way into her father’s good graces by taking a position in the orphanage. That would make for a nice change.
“I see.”
He dropped his own gaze and appeared to be reflecting upon her revelation. She had the odd impression that this point wasnot in her favor. But surely he had taken the time to discover who had founded the asylum? It was well-known, and it was natural that the man’s daughter would volunteer her time here.
A new worry assailed her. Mr. Rowles had nothing against the earl, she hoped. Her father had not been the same since her mother died. He had never been a particularly doting husband or father, but he was a good man, and had been a faithful husband. However, she saw so little of him now, she did not know what occupied his time.
“My lady, I wish to set your mind at ease regarding my presence here. My intention is to continue the regular functioning of the asylum and ensure that not a shilling is wasted. I am here to improve it, if it can be improved.”
That was a reassuring statement to make, even if there was something odd about mentioning wasted shillings which disconcerted her, considering the early rumors. She hoped Mr. Rowles did not know more on the matter than he was letting on.
“Very well.” When she realized there was nothing more for her to say, she stood. “Mr. Dowling will wish to meet you as soon as he arrives. You will find your office by entering the corridor through this door. It is the one on the far end. The other one is for Mr. Dowling. In the meantime, if you require anything, you need only ask Mrs. Hastings.”
“Thank you.” The visitor bowed, and she allowed herself one last glance at his handsome face. He was an enigma, but that need not be a bad thing. If only he would be good at his duties, that was all that was needed.
Geny left through the same door she had indicated then turned in the direction of the stairwell and went to the classroom that held the five children learning to read. She should not own to having favorites, but she did feel the happiest on Mondays when she taught this class.
“Lady Geny,” Samantha cried out as soon as she saw her. Shecurtsied with clumsy grace, her face split in a smile that revealed four missing teeth in front. Only the bottom ones had begun to grow back in. The four other children, three girls and one boy, also greeted her with curtsies, a bow, and obvious signs of pleasure.
“Good morning, Samantha,” she said, smiling back at her before turning to greet Anne, Lacy, Martha, and Jack in turn.
She set her basket down on the small table in front of the modern blackboard that had been set up. The six chairs had already been pulled into a circle, and they eagerly sat, each darting their eyes to the basket, knowing that sometimes treats would be hidden inside. Today was one of those days.
After taking a seat, she announced that they would begin by reciting the poem they had learned last week. After that, they would have a chance to write on the blackboard to practice their letters.
