“Certainly we will.”
Thankfully, Lord Tarrington had not asked why the marchioness would single her out to invite them. The two families already seemed to have a connection, however small, so hopefully she would never have to explain her meeting with the marchioness. She could not exactly tell her guardian that it was because she’d spilled punch all over herself and somehow that must have been seen as endearing.
Society was odd.
Lord Berkeley slowed his steps as they approached the other gentlemen. Apparently he’d had enough exercise for one morning. Or, as one of her many governesses would be quick tocorrect her, for oneearly afternoon, as that was the proper time for morning calls.
Again, Society was odd.
Lord Charles came to his feet. “Miss Faraday, I regret that we must be on our way, but I hope to see you again soon.”
Did she imagine it, or did Lord Berkeley’s face register a very infinitesimal amount of surprise at his brother’s declaration? Was he shocked that Lord Charles wished to see her again? Likely.
She released Lord Berkeley’s arm and took a step away. “I would enjoy that.”
Both men bowed—Lord Berkeley less deeply than his brother—and as they left, Lydia mentally prepared herself for returning to the bore that she’d experienced before they’d arrived. Surely the other gentlemen would soon leave. After all, the brothers had come and gone in twenty minutes.
No. She glanced at the clock... only fourteen.
Still, it was something.
Chapter 8
Jones pulled on Lydia’s arm,attempting to bring her back in the direction of their waiting carriage, but Lydia dug her heels in.
“Good heavens, miss, come away from there,” Jones demanded. She might even have stomped her foot, but Lydia’s attention was otherwise occupied, staring across the street as she was.
Lydia pulled her arm from Jones’s grasp. “Those children need help.”
“They are perfectly well!”
“They most clearly are not, or they would not be begging for coins.”
Jones sighed. “You haven’t any coins, and we were given instruction to collect your new gloves and return home.”
Lydia scrunched her nose, thinking. The true purpose for this outing was not to gather Lydia’s new gloves, as Jones assumed, but to find the solicitor’s office. Still, she could not walk past the three young children across the street without doing something. No matter how many other fine lords and ladies did just that. “I could at least say hello, make them feel important.”
“They hold no importance to you and your current station. You owe them nothing.”
Lydia gaped at her maid. She had known that the woman was miserly and autocratic. . . but heartless? Unfortunately for Jones, her staunch disapproval only stoked the fire in Lydia even more. She only wished to say hello. Perhaps to help. Not that she had any way to do so. She hadn’t been granted any pin money, as Jones had pointed out, so what could she do?
Food. She could give them food. Not now, but perhaps later. She had often brought food from Lord Tarrington’s kitchen to the tenant families in need.
Tucking the slim box containing her gloves under her arm, she stepped away from Jones and into the street, careful to avoid the refuse that littered the road. It was a busy thoroughfare, but with several glances back and forth as she made her way, it was easy enough to cross. She stopped in front of the children before Jones had even begun to follow.
“Hello there. I am Miss Faraday. Might I ask your names?” She smiled down at the three children, two girls and a boy. She would guess their ages to all be under ten. It was one of the girls—likely the oldest—who answered.
“I be Fanny, and this here’s Anne. And Georgie.”
“Is George, Fanny,” the boy hissed. Fanny shot him a look only an older sister could give.
“Well,George”—Lydia put extra emphasis on his name as she met his eye. He was dirty, far dirtier than the poor in her small country town. Soot stained his cheek and brow, and she was not certain what color his clothing had been before it reached this dull, brown state—“Anne, and Fanny, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Fanny gave a lopsided curtsy, and George, something that resembled a bow. Lydia returned the gesture with her own, likely lopsided, curtsy.
A man passing by dropped a coin into the hat George had placed upside down beside them, but he didn’t look at the children. George hollered his thanks nonetheless. From her periphery, Lydia saw that Jones was nearly upon them.
“I apologize, but I haven’t any coin,” Lydia said. “I should love to visit you, though. If you would just give me the address of your home.”
