and brothers and take up her life again, and for the colonel when he’d finally arranged to transport his wife’s body home to England. She had felt far older than her youthful seventeen years at that point.
She still did.
Garrett Lynch handed her his handkerchief, and she smoothed the tears from her cheeks.
“Still, you were Whyte’s responsibility. He took you from your family. How could he abandon you?”
“He paid the lease on the house for an additional six months when he resigned his commission and took his children home to Suffolk. And he arranged for Sir Reginald to look after me, to provide me with references and help me secure either a respectable position or a suitable marriage.”
At some point, Garrett had moved his arm across her back to brace her other shoulder. His strength flowed through her, accepting the scandalous behavior she was relating so matter-of-factly with a gesture where words would surely have failed.
“I held no illusions that marriage was an option for me after the colonel and his family departed. I could not deceive a future husband regarding my behavior. I possess neither birth nor fortune that might allow a man to overlook the truth, even if I were to wish an alliance with someone whose standards were for sale.”
Silence lay between them for a moment.
“Any regrets?” he voiced softly.
She shook her head. “Not on that count. Neither of my parents would have wanted me to be so dishonorable. Sir Reginald became my friend first as we tried to decide what sort of position he could recommend for me—governess or companion. Unfortunately my age and my . . . appearance worked against me. Eventually we settled on his becoming my patron.”
It sounded so much colder than it had been, so much more deliberate. Her arrangement with Sir Reginald had saved her from the edge of despair and given him comfort and unexpected joy as he had assured her throughout their time together.
Garrett’s grip on her arm tightened. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he pulled her closer. There had been less than a handful of men who had ever been this physically close to her, all save her father had ended up in her bed, but she sensed no danger of such persuasion in Garrett Lynch at this moment. Only unimagined support and open compassion.
“That would be Sir Reginald Manchester, the late barrister?”
She nodded.
Memories of Sir Reginald brought a smile to her lips as they always did. True, he’d been her second lover, the one who really made her into a member of the demimonde by setting her up in her own house and providing for all her needs including funds she could send home to her mother and younger brothers, to help provide after her father’s death. But he had been so much more. Confidante, friend, tutor, and benefactor—his untimely death had left her very bereft and alone.
“His generosity allowed me to help the first girl who needed me. She was my housekeeper’s niece, turned out into the street without references when her employers discovered she was pregnant. The fact that the family’s eldest son was the father made no difference to them. She would have been forced into prostitution to support herself and her child.”
She glanced up to see Garrett’s gaze intent on the girls below, his mouth a grim line. She turned slightly in his arms, and his gaze bore into hers. “So you have no regrets on his account, either?”
“Sir Reginald’s legacy allowed me to purchase this shop and adjoining house. He gave me the means to help other girls find a way out of impossible situations, just as he helped me. I cannot regret the consequences of my choices when they include such a result.”
“And what of Stanhope?”
This question came so quietly she was not sure if Garrett had spoken or if it whispered from her own conscience. Somehow it did not matter. Like the tears that had flooded her eyes, she could not hold back the last of her sordid story, not at
She still did.
Garrett Lynch handed her his handkerchief, and she smoothed the tears from her cheeks.
“Still, you were Whyte’s responsibility. He took you from your family. How could he abandon you?”
“He paid the lease on the house for an additional six months when he resigned his commission and took his children home to Suffolk. And he arranged for Sir Reginald to look after me, to provide me with references and help me secure either a respectable position or a suitable marriage.”
At some point, Garrett had moved his arm across her back to brace her other shoulder. His strength flowed through her, accepting the scandalous behavior she was relating so matter-of-factly with a gesture where words would surely have failed.
“I held no illusions that marriage was an option for me after the colonel and his family departed. I could not deceive a future husband regarding my behavior. I possess neither birth nor fortune that might allow a man to overlook the truth, even if I were to wish an alliance with someone whose standards were for sale.”
Silence lay between them for a moment.
“Any regrets?” he voiced softly.
She shook her head. “Not on that count. Neither of my parents would have wanted me to be so dishonorable. Sir Reginald became my friend first as we tried to decide what sort of position he could recommend for me—governess or companion. Unfortunately my age and my . . . appearance worked against me. Eventually we settled on his becoming my patron.”
It sounded so much colder than it had been, so much more deliberate. Her arrangement with Sir Reginald had saved her from the edge of despair and given him comfort and unexpected joy as he had assured her throughout their time together.
Garrett’s grip on her arm tightened. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he pulled her closer. There had been less than a handful of men who had ever been this physically close to her, all save her father had ended up in her bed, but she sensed no danger of such persuasion in Garrett Lynch at this moment. Only unimagined support and open compassion.
“That would be Sir Reginald Manchester, the late barrister?”
She nodded.
Memories of Sir Reginald brought a smile to her lips as they always did. True, he’d been her second lover, the one who really made her into a member of the demimonde by setting her up in her own house and providing for all her needs including funds she could send home to her mother and younger brothers, to help provide after her father’s death. But he had been so much more. Confidante, friend, tutor, and benefactor—his untimely death had left her very bereft and alone.
“His generosity allowed me to help the first girl who needed me. She was my housekeeper’s niece, turned out into the street without references when her employers discovered she was pregnant. The fact that the family’s eldest son was the father made no difference to them. She would have been forced into prostitution to support herself and her child.”
She glanced up to see Garrett’s gaze intent on the girls below, his mouth a grim line. She turned slightly in his arms, and his gaze bore into hers. “So you have no regrets on his account, either?”
“Sir Reginald’s legacy allowed me to purchase this shop and adjoining house. He gave me the means to help other girls find a way out of impossible situations, just as he helped me. I cannot regret the consequences of my choices when they include such a result.”
“And what of Stanhope?”
This question came so quietly she was not sure if Garrett had spoken or if it whispered from her own conscience. Somehow it did not matter. Like the tears that had flooded her eyes, she could not hold back the last of her sordid story, not at
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