“Good day. I was told you handle the donations,” she said directly.
“Yes, miss.” He frowned, probably not receiving many single females with such a stated purpose. “Or is it ‘my lady’?”
Julia ignored his question. Glancing once at the silent maid beside her, she asked, “Why does the facility appear in such disrepair? Aren’t you supported by this parish?”
“Too many poor,” he said. “Too little funding.” Then the man sighed. “You mentioned a donation? You may want to save your pennies. It would take quite a bit to make any difference.”
“Is there one thing in particular that St. James’s needs?” Julia asked.
“The poor get three meals a day, and plum pudding on Saturday,” he told her, as if she suspected him of starving the residents.
“That’s fifteen pounds of suet, eighteen quarts of milk, and fifteen quarts of raisins for one day alone,” he continued, and stared past her shoulder as if imagining all those raisins.
“That’s all very well, but what about the building’s structure? There seems to be some need for repairs. The floor in the common room, for instance.”
He focused on her again. “Do you wish to pay for a floor, miss?” His tone suggested she had no idea what she was saying.
“Yes, I believe I do. It looked downright dangerous. Are the floors in the wards in the same state? What about the children’s room?”
His eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted. Clearly, he was starting to feel as if she were criticizing the workhouse, and maybe its staff. To allay any of his defenses, she withdrew the bag she carried tucked under her arm and attached to her wrist by strong silken cords. Bigger and sturdier than her normal coin purse or reticule, it gave her a feeling of security when she had to carry a donation.
Without fanfare, she dumped the contents onto the man’s orderly desk.
Silently, he stared at the pile of silver and gold coins. There were even two London banknotes of substantial amounts.
“Good God!” he finally exclaimed, sitting down before jumping to his feet again since Julia remained standing. Then he raised his gaze to her face again. “My lady, this is a tremendous donation.”
“Enough for a floor?” she asked.
“Yes, certainly,” he agreed. “More than one.”
“I shall come back to ascertain the progress. I would be very disappointed if the money wasn’t used as promised, sir.”
Julia often made the idle threat with no idea how she would follow up on any type of retribution should the man simply take the money and go to Scotland or Spain.
“I understand, miss. If you can wait, I shall write up a donation receipt of funds and you can sign—”
“There is no need. I intend to remain anonymous. If all goes well, you may receive more. If you fail to put it to good use,” she trailed off, considering whether to mention contacting the authorities if she even knew whom they might be.
The clerk nodded. “Very well. I shall still count it and write up a receipt and sign it myself. I like to keep things all above board.”
“I appreciate that. Good day, sir.” And as easily as that, she’d done some good in the world and could count it a day worth living.
***
JASPER CONSIDERED HAVINGhis trusted footman, Rigley, leave his calling card at the Countess of Worthington’s house, but it smacked of eagerness. He wanted to see Miss Sudbury again, but he didn’t want to appear like a hell-born babe.
That, in itself, was an oddity. He usually didn’t care a fig for how his reputation preceded him or if he appeared to be precisely what he was, a scapegrace, a man of the Town. As far as he was concerned, it was often better for a female to see him coming a mile away and know what she was getting in to. Yet he’d made a judgment error by choosing Louisa Tufton, and he didn’t want a repeat of that unpleasantness.
However, Miss Sudbury had a pragmatic air about her when she was in the company of the nobility, a class she deemed less than honorable, and he wanted to surpass her expectations. Of course, he still wanted to bed her, and he was certain he’d detected enough interest from her in his own person that he should count on said occurrence.
Another ball or dinner party wasn’t going to get him any closer to his goal.Unless it was a party of two!
To that end, Jasper sat in his study and wrote a brief invitation, barely couching the intimate nature of it in terms that could be taken another way. If she arrived and was surprised by their being only two of them, then he could claim her misunderstanding, but Miss Sudbury would have to be a dimwit, indeed, not to understand his meaning.
Signed, sealed, and stamped with his ring, the letter went off with Rigley for immediate delivery. He almost instructed his footman to wait for a reply, but again, that gave the appearance of being too enthusiastic, which in his experience was the wrong way to gain a female’s attention. Instead, Jasper needed to keep himself busy.
Naturally, he went to White’s and met with two old pals from Oxford. After a game of billiards and a discussion of the news of the day, he detoured to Watier’s, owned by the Prince Regent’s favorite chef. The food, as expected, was divine. By the time Jasper returned home, he was hoping against hope Miss Sudbury had seen her way clear to respond.
