Regency Rumours/A Scandalous Mistress/Dishonour And Desire by Juliet Landon Page B

lord? Well, then, I shall accept it on condition that it never happens again. Which I think is a safe bet in the circumstances. Don’t you?’
    His smile was full of admiration. ‘On the contrary, my lady, I think it an extremely dodgy one. In any case, I never apologise for kissing a woman. So very hypocritical.’
    Refusing to be drawn further along that line, Amelie went to pick up the crumpled newspaper and, carrying it between her finger and thumb to the door, dropped it outside. ‘Then I think,’ she said, moving to the striped sofa, ‘that you had no need to wait so long.’ She waved a hand towards the nearest chair, trying to appear calm and in command of the situation. ‘If you do not mean to apologise, then what can be the purpose of your visit?’
    ‘Given your record of being out when I call, even when you’re in, I thought it wiser to be in first, while you were out, so that we could stand a fair chance of being
in
together. Eventually.’
    ‘Ah, to be of such importance,’ she sighed, gazing at the top of the sash window. ‘Can you bear to get to the point, I wonder?’
    Slipping one hand into the front of his deep blue morning-coat, Lord Elyot pulled out a velvet reticule and passed it to her, dangling it by its long drawstrings. ‘Yours, I believe? Or that of a certain Ginny Hodge?’ he said.
    Amelie’s heart pounded. This was horribly unexpected.Frowning, she took it. ‘Who? Why would you think this was mine, my lord?’
    He leaned back into the chair, making a steeple with his fingers. ‘For two reasons—one is that it had one of your visiting cards inside.’
    ‘Which this … Ginny person … could have stolen. How did you come by it?’
    ‘The man who picked it up after you had been mugged on the night you went up to the workhouse followed you home again. You were riding a donkey named Isabelle.’
    ‘Todd!’ The name escaped before she could prevent it.
    ‘Exactly. My coachman.’
    So, he must have known of this for quite some time.
    Her heart still hammered under the strain of staying calm. ‘And does this prove something, my lord? Apart from being robbed, is it a crime to ride one’s donkey at night?’
    ‘It
is
a crime to bribe His Majesty’s servants to release people in their custody,’ he said, quietly. ‘You did not quite manage it that time, but you have done it several times before through your servants, I understand. Those who live at the workhouse have been sent there by the authorities, my lady. By the Vestry, in other words. Any release must be done through the proper channels, not by stealth or bribery, or without permission. You sent a man up there to try again while you were with me at the Castle. Am I correct?’
    ‘So it
was
you who prevented—’ Unbidden, the words tripped out.
    ‘Prevented?’
    ‘Prevented that poor woman from giving birth to her child in decent surroundings,’ she snapped. ‘It
was
you, wasn’t it? You told them to keep her there at all costs because yourfather is the local magistrate who heads the Vestry who put her there in the first place. And no matter how inhumane, how stigmatising, how downright
dangerous
it is for a child to be born in a workhouse, your father’s interests must come first. Think how he would look if the poor unfortunates were cared for properly,’ she went on, striding across to the window. ‘Would he ever hold his head up in Richmond again?’
    ‘So you admit—’
    ‘What good would it do me to deny it?’ she said, sifting through the untidy pile of music sheets on top of the pianoforte. The Haydn sonata caught her eye as she hit the edges with a clack on the rosewood surface. She slammed them down. ‘Do your worst, my lord. There must be more serious crimes a woman can commit than trying to help those less prosperous than herself. If that’s so wrong, then it’s time the law was changed.’
    ‘It isn’t a crime when it’s done openly and above board. By your method, any gypsy or conman could