It was not anger she heard in his voice but pain and confusion. It was possible that he had not understood why he had offended her when he had remarked that he considered it extraordinary that a school in America accepted female students. His condescending tone had vexed her, and she had stormed out of the room.
Instead of leaving, she should have stayed and explained why his remarks bothered her so, but she knew it took time and patience for change, and she sensed that he was not quite ready. Besides, there was a more important issue at stake than their differences. She needed to set her personal feelings aside and push forward before she lost her nerve. She must help the villagers.
“I am here to ask for your help in an urgent matter.”
“That sounds like it will cost me money,” he said sarcastically, and yet his expression had softened and spoke of other emotions that caused her pulse to quicken.
The impulse to run felt overwhelming, but it overshadowed the urge to comb her fingers through his hair, sooth his troubled brow, and ask him why he looked so troubled. She strengthened her resolve. She was here on a matter of great concern. Allowing her unexplainable attraction to the infuriating man to distract her was unthinkable. Her mother had taught her that there was nothing more dangerous than a handsome man.
“Are you aware that there are people in the village who do not have enough to eat?” She blurted it out before she could change her mind.
His expression turned from troubled to confused as he resumed studying the papers on his desk. “You have been misinformed. They are taken care of through the parish charities. My father assured me before I went off to war that my mother’s concerns were unfounded. The villagers thrive, and those few who do not, can choose to apply for aid at the local parish or enter a workhouse.”
“Are you sure, sir?”
His eyebrows knitted together. “Quite sure. Why are you so troubled by people you do not know?”
She longed to explain that she supposed her soft heart toward those in need was the result of watching her mother react in a similar manner. To do so, however, would contradict the story they had told regarding the source of their wealth.
Her mother never turned anyone away. Her mother had said it was because when she needed help, friends and strangers alike helped her, and she had vowed that she would do the same. If Madeline shared this explanation, however, the secret her mother had wanted hidden would tumble out. She decided on another path.
“We are taught to care for those less fortunate.” Madeline said simply. “I helped you. Remember?”
He sat back against his chair. “Yes, you did. That was a different matter. You saw plainly that Jeremy was a gentleman because of the clothes he wore, and that I was a soldier of high rank. Both of us were worthy of your charity. I will concede that even given those circumstances, not everyone would have been as generous as you were.”
She edged closer, her temper rising. “Worthy? Are you mad? I was not thinking of whether or not you and your friend were worthy of charity. Such a ridiculous statement. I was grateful that I had the means to help men who appeared down on their luck.” She gritted her teeth. “You English would describe your behavior as being ‘high in the instep.’ You are not high in the instep. You are an ignorant fool.”
“Careful with your comments, Miss Mercer. You go too far.”
She perched her hands on her hips. “I am not one of your servants that you can order me about. Nor am I an Englishwoman. I am an American citizen. You cannot throw me in the Tower of London for speaking my mind.”
“More’s the pity.” He stood slowly, placing the palms of his hands on the desk. “Which is precisely why we consider the colonies to be comprised of hoodlums and uneducated barbarians.”
She cocked a smile. “And yet we succeeded in beating your English bluebloods—and not once but twice.”
He growled out an oath. “We stray from the point. My father’s advice on charity was clear. We are charged a levy that is paid to the parish, which manages the distribution of clothes, fuel, and bread to those who prove that they belong to the parish and therefore have a right to its support. If a person is not a member of a parish, there are workhouses.”
“Workhouses? That is your solution if a parish cannot provide? Have you ever seen a workhouse?”
He rubbed his stubble of beard. “Lord Dumont and I had occasion to pass several workhouses on our return from the war. The conditions of these places and the people who live there was not an easy sight to behold. In the end, we decided that it was better than starving.”
“Did you bother to ask those people that question?” Madeline folded her arms across her chest. Waited. When he did not respond, she continued, “You speak with the insensitivity of someone who knows that he will never have to experience the horror of a workhouse. You grew up privileged, attended prestigious schools, knew that when you wished to marry you would have no end to women clamoring to gain your favor.” Feeling her temperature rise with frustration, she paused for breath. “Your every wish was granted. Servants cared for all your needs. Did I leave anything out?”
The duke folded his arms in the same manner as Madeline’s. “You criticize me, but how was your life any different than mine?”
It was her turn to remain still.
He straightened. “Your silence adds to your mystery. You were raised in privilege, and yet you sympathize with those less fortunate. I have long wondered why some of us feel more empathy toward those less fortunate than ourselves, but as yet I have not found the answer. When I told my parents my intentions of fighting for King and Country, they were perplexed. I still have not discovered the reason I felt compelled. It would have been easier to stay home.” He paused. “My mother claims I have changed.”
Madeline leaned forward. “In what ways?”
“I learned that there are no winners in war, only losers and the dead.”
“Well, that is something. You are not hopeless. Are you interested in the plan?”
“Concerning…”
“Feeding the poor in your village, of course.”
