Or provide a reprieve to his sister’s financially beleaguered school.
“Seven will be a lovely start,” he agreed, and withdrew a slip of paper from his breast pocket. “An anonymous deposit to this account will do splendidly.”
She held a quizzing glass above the parchment. “The St. Giles School for Girls… Why, that’s your sister’s charity! Never say you donateallyour earnings to an orphanage?”
“If I answered that question, then you would be keeping secrets forme,” he replied with a tight smile. “Please don’t worry about the state of the Grenville barony. My father has no wish for my assistance to increase the family coffers.”
“Your father is a brilliant man,” Lady Roundtree agreed. She held up a finger as if to scold him. “I haven’t glimpsed a single hair of the baron for years. I hope you rowdy lot allow the poor man out of his study once in a while.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her she likely interacted with the baron just as much as his own family did.
Which was to say, never.
“I shall pass along your concerns,” Heath replied.
“You, on the other hand…” Lady Roundtree smiled benevolently. “You are everywhere in Society. A gathering without Heath Grenville is like tea without biscuits. You do your family proud.”
While Heath doubted his father had any particular knowledge of his whereabouts, much less pride in the matter, he couldn’t help but be flattered by the sweet observation.
Being important because he wasHeathhad been his dream for as long as he could remember. He couldn’t help his position within his family, couldn’t help being born to riches, couldn’t help someday inheriting the title. What hecouldhelp was other people.
And he was not ashamed to admit he preferred making a name for himself for that reason, rather than lounging indolently by whilst awaiting a title some ancestor had earned generations before.
“Shall I send you weekly updates on my progress?” he inquired.
Lady Roundtree wrinkled her nose. “Oh, do come by and let me know in person. I don’t get out as much with these cursed splints on my leg, and sitting about the house can be so lonely.”
Heath frowned in surprise. “I don’t doubt that a broken leg offers nothing to recommend it, but surely you of all people are not lonely. You’ve countless friends, not to mention a companion who—”
Who lived under this very roof.
Who would be present every time Heath dropped by to update his client on their case.
Who might walk into this room at any moment.
Who Heath had daydreamed several times about kissing.
Who was not only a servant, but also now aclient’sservant, and therefore utterly and completely forbidden.
Chapter 9
Nora did her best to hold perfectly still so the hot tongs would not burn her scalp. She still wasn’t used to having a lady’s maid at her disposal. Much less the thrice-daily wardrobe changes Lady Roundtree vowed were the bare minimum any self-respecting lady and her wide-eyed companion must adhere to.
The baroness would be shocked indeed to learn Nora found submitting to the process more than mildly embarrassing.
“Look to the left,” ordered Pepys, the lady’s maid responsible for making Nora presentable three times per day.
Nora obediently turned to the left.
It was either that or have her hair singed from her skull with a yank of the tongs.
Not that Pepys was cruel; she was a veritable artist with pins, tongs, and a roaring fire. The young woman claimed she could make anyone’s hair match the fashion plate of their choosing, even someone like Nora herself. Thus far, Pepys had worked positive magic.
As had Lady Roundtree’s modiste. The day dress Nora wore of dusky pink figured muslin over a pale pink underdress was not only the finest gown Nora had ever worn, but also specifically tailored for her frame. The puffed sleeves were the perfect fit, the rose-colored ribbon encircling beneath her bosom at precisely the right height.
Whenever she glimpsed herself in a looking-glass, she no longer saw Nora from a farm in the West Midlands, or even Nora, poor relation and temporary employee. The stranger staring back at her was Miss Eleanora Winfield, a proper and well-groomed woman who looked like she could be mistaken as a young lady who belonged in the midst of the London Season.
“Now down,” Pepys ordered.
