Page 16 of Courting the Country Miss

Mrs. Seton’s feathers bobbed as she nodded her head. “Of course. We never miss a Season. My Hermione had a delightful time last Season and is looking forward to this year as well.”

Miss Seton closed her eyes and let out a long breath, clearly unhappy to be thrust into another social whirl.

Leticia gave her a sympathetic smile before returning her attention to the girl’s mother. “I admit I know little of politics, but Lord Averston is hoping his brother, Tristan Barrett, will run for candidacy for the House of Commons. I understand there’s a borough in one of the earl’s landholdings without a representative, so Tristan could run for that one the next election, is that correct?”

Mrs. Seton nodded. “If the borough is rotten—meaning uncontested—the election would be a mere formality. I doubt anyone would bother running against him since everyone knows the earl controls the seat.”

“So, all Tristan must do is decide to run.”

“Probably.” Mrs. Seton lowered her voice. “Don’t tell my husband that I told any of this to you; he thinks I don’t have a thought in my head except fashion and embroidery.” An impish twinkle sparked in her eye making her look ten years younger, and her mouth twitched to suppress a smile.

Leticia placed a hand over her heart. “I vow your secret is safe with me.”

The young Miss Seton met Leticia’s eye and almost smiled before looking down.

“I must say,” Mrs. Seton said. “I’m surprised young Barrett is considering Parliament. He doesn’t seem the type to take on something so sober.”

“’Tis more his brother’s idea than his own, but he is considering it.” Of course, every time Richard brought it up, Tristan rejected the idea, but she didn’t volunteer that. “I believe he will embrace the idea soon.” Which may require considerable cajoling—and time—but it would involve him in something worthwhile and keep him too busy for the gambling establishments in London or consorting with loose women.

Mrs. Seton lifted her shoulders in a resigned shrug. “Tristan Barrett has the charm to garner votes.”

Nodding, the shy young Miss Seton sighed, a dreamy smile touching her mouth. Another victim of Tristan’s legendary allure.

Leticia leaned forward. “Tell me, Mrs. Seton, how do you feel about reform?”

The lady raised a brow. “What aspect?”

“Helping the unfortunate raise themselves out of poverty and ignorance, and sometimes out of criminal behavior.”

“I applaud the efforts of reformers. Occasionally, I make contributions to Mrs. Goodfellow’s institution and have employed a few of those she has helped reform.”

“Lady Averston and I also feel that helping those wishing to leave undesirable activities would be beneficial to society. We’d like to provide a way to teach them basic reading and mathematics so that they may qualify for honest vocations—shop girls, clerks, and so forth.”

Mrs. Seton wore a thoughtful expression. “I believe that would much improve their chances to pursue such work.”

Leticia touched the lady’s hand. “As do I—most emphatically. That’s why Lady Averston and I, along with a group of sponsors, are raising money to fund the opening of a school for the poor and the orphans—especially girls. We hope in particular to enroll children, to give them a better chance to be law-abiding, hard-working citizens.”

“Oooh,” said young Miss Seton, her eyes shining. “How admirable.”

Leticia smiled. How sweet that her charity school had piqued the shy girl’s interest enough to finally speak her thoughts. “I’m so glad you agree.”

Her mother’s brow wrinkled. “I fear not everyone will appreciate your venture.”

With a resigned sigh, Leticia shook her head. “No, many don’t feel it’s worthwhile, more’s the pity.”

“It’s more than that.” Mrs. Seton lowered her voice, but this time no twinkle danced in her eyes. “Many of the nobility fear if we educate the poor, it will result in a repeat of the French Revolution, right here in England.”

Oh, that. “I understand their concern. Still, we aren’t talking about any kind of grand scale—merely a school for a few children who have fled either brothels or living in the streets. Surely anyone can see the advantage of that.”

“My husband doesn’t agree. He’s one of those who fear the possibilities. His uncle lost his life to Madame Guillotine in the French revolution, you see.”

Leticia shivered. “Dreadful.”

Sobered, they fell silent. Mrs. Seton drew a breath. “Still, saving children is a most charitable venture. I assume you approached me because you’d like my help?”

Sheepish, Leticia nodded. “If it won’t put you at odds with your husband.”

Mrs. Seton smiled. “He doesn’t need to know; I have my own money. I’d be glad to make a donation.”