Stranger in My Arms(50)

Naomi had frowned thoughtfully as she replied.

“He was always a good master-he was liked well enough. But now he takes more notice of the servants. Like the way he sent for the doctor when he saw that one of the housemaids had an abscess in her arm, or when he said that George the footman could have his fianc`ee to tea in the kitchen on his days off.

He never did things like that before…”

Lara’s thoughts were interrupted by the gentle peal of the longcase clock in the hall. Deciding to retire, she stirred sleepily on the sofa and pushed the blanket aside. At that moment, a dark figure shuffled past the door, and paused to investigate the source of lamplight.

The intruder, of course, was Hunter, with his clothes disheveled and his gait a little too looselimbed. He had been drinking, though he didn’t seem to be precisely drunk. He walked into the room with an obnoxious smile on his face-the smile of a teenaged boy who had misbehaved and was proud of it.

Lara drew her knees up and hugged them, her fingers lacing together tightly. “I hope you’re feeling better,” she said crisply. “From the smell of you, smoke and strong drink and heavy perfume-I gather you found some trollop to satisfy your needs.”

Hunter stopped before her, his smile turning quizzical. “For someone who wants nothing to do with my private parts, you take an unseemly interest in where they’ve been.”

“I’m only glad you heeded my advice and found a woman for yourself,” she said.

“I went drinking with Lonsdale and some friends.

And there were women. But I didn’t tumble any of them.”

“That’s a pity,” Lara said, though she couldn’t help feeling a stab of relief at the information. “As before, I would be pleased if you took a mistress and spared me your attentions.”

“Would you?” he asked, his tone deceptively mild.

“Then why did you wait for me to return?”

“I wasn’t waiting for you… I couldn’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about the letter from Lord Newmarsh, and the children who are in the same terrible circumstances Johnny was in-” “Twelve,” he interrupted.

“There are twelve prison brats in all.” One brow arched sardonically.

“I suppose you want to do something about them now.”

“We can discuss it tomorrow, when your mood is more amiable.”

“A few hours of rest are not going to make me amiable.” Hunter lowered himself to the opposite corner of the sofa, long legs arranged in a masculine sprawl. One large hand waved in an expansive gesture for her to proceed.

Lara hesitated, trying to gauge his mood. There was something puzzling about his expression-patient, watchful, like an animal at its favorite hunting grounds. He was waiting for an opportunity, and when it came, he would pounce on it. She couldn’t begin to guess what he had in mind, but she strongly suspected she wouldn’t like it.

“I am certain that the prisons would want these children removed from such terrible surroundings, if someone offered a suitable alternative,” Lara began carefully. Hunter responded with an agreeable nod.

“Obviously they must be brought to the orphanage at Market Hill,” she continued, “but it is too small.

A dozen children… well, we would need to enlarge the place, and hire more staff, and find a way to provide more food, clothes, and supplies… and that is quite an undertaking. I wish we had the means to accomplish all that-” “We don’t,” he interrupted. “Not now, at any rate.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.” Lara cleared her throat and arranged her skirts with exacting care. “Therefore we must solicit funds from other sources. With all of our friends and acquaintances, it shouldn’t be difficult. If I-that is, if we-arrange some sort of benefit for the orphanage-” “What kind of benefit?”

“A ball. A sizable one. We could use it as a means to attract donations for the Market Hill orphanage.

And to ensure that everyone will come, we could also use it as an occasion to… welcome you home.” She steeled herself not to wince at his steady dark stare.

It was a good idea, actually. The ton would be so curious to see the mysteriously returned Lord Hawksworth and hear his incredible story that they would flock in droves to the ball. He was already the talk of London, and this would surely be the event of the Season.

“So you plan to exhibit me like a two-headed freak at the county fair, and use the proceeds to benefit your orphans.”

“It wouldn’t be like that-” Lara protested.

“It would be exactly like that.” Slowly he sat up and leaned forward, all the while pinning her with that fathomless dark stare. “After what I’ve been through, now I’m expected to endure an evening of probing questions and scrutiny from a herd of shallow nitwits. And for what?”

“For the children,” Lara said earnestly. “You’ll have to face the ton sooner or later. Why not do it now, and arrange the time and place to your liking?

Why not have the satisfaction of saving twelve children who deserve the chance to lead a decent life?”

“You oVerestimate me, sweet. I don’t have a charitable bone in my body: I don’t lose sleep at night thinking about orphans and beggars.

I’ve seen too many of them. They’re a fact of life-they’ll never disappear. Save a thousand of them, ten thousand, and there’ll always be more.”