“A pittance!” She drew back. “Not to everyone. There are so many causes that might benefit…”
Argyll touched two fingers to her lips.
He admired the glide of her throat as she swallowed wildly.
Ah, yes. He’d forgotten again. He’d married the only woman who’d meet such generosity with disapproval, not awe.
“I settle five thousand pounds each year upon the Foundling Hospital.” Argyll glided the pad of his thumb along her lip. “Two thousand to the Magdalen Hospital.” He continued stroking that velvet flesh. “Three thousand to the London Dispensary.” The things he’d do with her mouth. “One thousand to the Royal Humane Society.” The things he’d show her to do, how to please him. He paused, then added evenly as his breath allowed, “Fifteen thousand annually to the Ladies of Hope.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “For obvious reasons.” There were a dozen charity more besides.
Daria stared at him—entirely unmoved by Gregory’s touch.
He frowned slightly. “On account of Lady Rutherford’s connection to—”
Wonder, bright and unguarded, touched her eyes.
His cravat suddenly grew too tight.
“You give to all those charities, Gregory?”
Among others. He made no effort to clarify or confirm. “It is garish of a fellow to speak of money,” he muttered. “But ye—”
“That is silly,” Daria said, wrinkling her nose. “Particularly when you are speaking of giving it away to important causes. I…” She started and then abruptly stopped.
Argyll softly nudged her. “Yes, love?”
“It is garish to speak of money.”
Argyll hesitated briefly, then recovered. “You just told me it wasn’t.”
“It is different.”
Do not ask. Do not ask.
“How so?”
“I have a question regarding money.”
That is what he got for asking.
He nodded for her to continue.
“You might not have heard of the Mismatch Society. Sylvia was a founding member, and—”
“Yes.”
Her eyes shone bright as the sun at first morn. “You’ve heard of it!”
His bride gazed upon Argyll with such wonderment; he almost opted for a glib, dance-around to her assumption.
Christ, of all the times to gain a bloody conscience. “No.”
Daria blinked quickly. “Oh.” Her eyes dimmed—but only for a moment. “It’s just you said yes, and—”
“Were you not going to ask for a charitable donation?”
“I…was.” She spoke as if she herself had only just recalled.
