the prince asked for secrecy,” Luten said with a frown. Then he continued, “Even a good man like Morgate might innocently hire a bad apple. The business could have been between Doctor Harper and Fogg. It’s one more thing to look into. Institutions of that sort often have a noble patron. I’ll make queries and see what I can discover about the financing of the place.”
“Why don’t we take the gowns to Fanny this afternoon?” Coffen said to Corinne. “You could chat up the Turk while I talk to Fanny. Bruton would know if the place has a noble patron. Might save a little time, Luten. And as I said, I want another chance to gauge the size of the place. Fanny said something about an annex. I might get the tour, as I didn’t go along with Prance and—” Prance gave a warning cough. “With Prance and Bruton this morning,” Coffen said.
Luten turned to Corinne. “Did you have anything else you had to do this afternoon?”
“Nothing urgent.”
It was settled that Coffen would call for Corinne immediately after luncheon. Prance invited Coffen to dine with him, to leave the lovers some privacy.
“Do you mind going back to the Morgate Home?” Luten asked her, when they were alone.
“No, not at all. Coffen’s seeming irrelevancies sometimes turn out to have a point. Actually, I would like to meet Beth. I feel sorry for her. She’ s young and looks–I don’ t know. Vulnerable. I mean to find a place for her after her accouchement.”
“We can send her to the Abbey, if you like. It might be well to get her out of temptation's way.” Southcote Abbey was Lord Luten’s ancestral estate in Nottingham.
The image of Beth’s pale face floated in Corinne’s mind. There was an almost childlike innocence in her expression. And sadness and fear, too. That was what tugged at the heart strings. To judge by Byron’s outburst against the families of these girls, he might have seen similar expressions on the other girls.
“I wonder how many of the girls are there because they succumbed to temptation, and how many because they were seduced by a faithless lover, or even forced by their employers, or their employers’ sons.”
“We’ll make sure she’s placed in a well-run establishment,” he said gently.
She seized his hand and squeezed it, without speaking. But her eyes revealed what was in her mind. That dear Luten was not the sort of man who would do that to a girl. A good deal of his time and money were spent trying to right the wrongs of an unfair world. In some obscure way, those girls at Morgate’s Home made her feel guilty for having so much. She wanted to help them. And Luten had much more of life’s goods than she. Perhaps his fight for the poor was his way of salving his conscience for his inherited wealth and privilege.
“I can’t stay for luncheon today. I’ve been abandoning Mrs. Ballard shamefully. I’ll go home now and see what gowns I can spare. And I’ll send some new muslin as well. The girls make handkerchiefs and things for the bazaar.”
“You’ll come back for dinner? Ask Coffen to come as well.”
“Yes, if you like. And you had best ask Prance, or his nose will be out of joint.”
“I’ll invite him, but I daresay he’ll be hounding after Byron.” He shook his head. “Do you remember how he cursed the man, when Byron’s Childe Harold was outselling the Rondeaux ?”
Again Corinne felt the blood rush to her cheeks, but she just smiled. “Yes, and I remember that you bought a hundred copies of the Rondeaux as a bribe to get the book in the shop window, and made me help you burn them. I daresay you’re the only person in England, other than Prance, who has read the Rondeaux all the way through.”
“I never got past the first fifty pages. I just read the footnotes and managed to keep the conversation on them when I discussed the work with Prance.”
“It was the footnotes that I found most distracting. I must go now.”
He pulled her into his arms for a long,
“Why don’t we take the gowns to Fanny this afternoon?” Coffen said to Corinne. “You could chat up the Turk while I talk to Fanny. Bruton would know if the place has a noble patron. Might save a little time, Luten. And as I said, I want another chance to gauge the size of the place. Fanny said something about an annex. I might get the tour, as I didn’t go along with Prance and—” Prance gave a warning cough. “With Prance and Bruton this morning,” Coffen said.
Luten turned to Corinne. “Did you have anything else you had to do this afternoon?”
“Nothing urgent.”
It was settled that Coffen would call for Corinne immediately after luncheon. Prance invited Coffen to dine with him, to leave the lovers some privacy.
“Do you mind going back to the Morgate Home?” Luten asked her, when they were alone.
“No, not at all. Coffen’s seeming irrelevancies sometimes turn out to have a point. Actually, I would like to meet Beth. I feel sorry for her. She’ s young and looks–I don’ t know. Vulnerable. I mean to find a place for her after her accouchement.”
“We can send her to the Abbey, if you like. It might be well to get her out of temptation's way.” Southcote Abbey was Lord Luten’s ancestral estate in Nottingham.
The image of Beth’s pale face floated in Corinne’s mind. There was an almost childlike innocence in her expression. And sadness and fear, too. That was what tugged at the heart strings. To judge by Byron’s outburst against the families of these girls, he might have seen similar expressions on the other girls.
“I wonder how many of the girls are there because they succumbed to temptation, and how many because they were seduced by a faithless lover, or even forced by their employers, or their employers’ sons.”
“We’ll make sure she’s placed in a well-run establishment,” he said gently.
She seized his hand and squeezed it, without speaking. But her eyes revealed what was in her mind. That dear Luten was not the sort of man who would do that to a girl. A good deal of his time and money were spent trying to right the wrongs of an unfair world. In some obscure way, those girls at Morgate’s Home made her feel guilty for having so much. She wanted to help them. And Luten had much more of life’s goods than she. Perhaps his fight for the poor was his way of salving his conscience for his inherited wealth and privilege.
“I can’t stay for luncheon today. I’ve been abandoning Mrs. Ballard shamefully. I’ll go home now and see what gowns I can spare. And I’ll send some new muslin as well. The girls make handkerchiefs and things for the bazaar.”
“You’ll come back for dinner? Ask Coffen to come as well.”
“Yes, if you like. And you had best ask Prance, or his nose will be out of joint.”
“I’ll invite him, but I daresay he’ll be hounding after Byron.” He shook his head. “Do you remember how he cursed the man, when Byron’s Childe Harold was outselling the Rondeaux ?”
Again Corinne felt the blood rush to her cheeks, but she just smiled. “Yes, and I remember that you bought a hundred copies of the Rondeaux as a bribe to get the book in the shop window, and made me help you burn them. I daresay you’re the only person in England, other than Prance, who has read the Rondeaux all the way through.”
“I never got past the first fifty pages. I just read the footnotes and managed to keep the conversation on them when I discussed the work with Prance.”
“It was the footnotes that I found most distracting. I must go now.”
He pulled her into his arms for a long,
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