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They were able to discern that the woman was one-and-twenty, had unfortunately earned the attention of Lord Gaffington when she’d started six months earlier, and had no family. She had nowhere to turn and couldn’t survive without her position. Apparently, this situation was better than the one she’d been in previously.
Theo poured the liquid into a jar for cooling and began putting away her various vials. She turned back to the woman. “Can we know your name? No last names.”
“Mary,” she said quietly.
Theo leaned forward, gaze trained on Mary’s. “I have a drink for you. It just needs cooling, and then I’ll send you on your way with it. You’ll drink half tonight, and the other half in the morning. It’ll bring on your courses within the next two weeks. If it doesn’t, I want you to visit Miss Waters, and she’ll bring you back here. We’re here to help you any way we can, Mary. That includes finding you a new place of employment if that’s something you’d want.”
“I couldn’t ask that…”
“You can,” Theo said firmly. “We are offering. We want to help. We possess connections you do not. This is what we do, Mary. If you need help, we are here.”
Mary nodded, lips trembling. “Th-then yes, please,” she whispered. “I don’t want to…I can’t…” Her eyes welled.
“You don’t need to say anything more,” Sarah said, wrapping her arm around the woman and tucking her to her side.
They spent the next quarter hour chatting, distracting poor Mary from her worries while the concoction Theo had made cooled. This whole crusade of helping women in need started even before Theo’s father had passed. She’d witnessed the aftermath of the late duke on countless women, been warned of him and the men who frequented the castle by Papa. In their world, women were for men, to be used however they pleased and then discarded when they no longer served a purpose…or became a hindrance. Like a scullery maid with child.
A wife was nothing but a pretty title put on a position of unpaid servitude. Her thoughts trailed to the Duchess—Abigail. Even Her Grace, who carried the highest title a woman could attain besides royalty—had lived a nightmare of a life until her husband passed. And the duchess before her… No one was safe from men.
The only people who would ever protect women…were other women.
Theo walked Sarah and Mary to the door, offering them a reassuring smile. “Miss Waters and I will be in touch as we come across openings that fit your skill set. If any other issues arise from your situation, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
“Thank you so much, Miss,” Mary said, lifting her hood back over her head.
Theo waved them off, leaning against her doorframe as they rode off into the distance. Once satisfied there wasn’t any risk of them turning back, she shut her door and hurried for her bedchamber.
She threw open the door—and crashed into a wall of muscle. She bounced backward, and hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her before she landed on her arse.
A pair of turbulent grey eyes bore into her. A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw, a vein throbbing in his temple. Fury radiated through him, and Theo’s heart rate spiked. She went to take a step back, but his fingers tightened.
Blast and bloody damn. This would be the end of her. What she and Sarah did, aiding women the way they did…was illegal. And Theo had foolishly put that at risk by allowing a man close to her. What had she been thinking? Her chest caved in, the organ behind her ribcage cracking. She’d lost sight of what was important, let whatever infatuation she was developing for the man before her weaken her defenses.
And now, everything she’d worked so hard for, everything she’d held dear. Thrown away.
Because there was no mistaking the wrath emanating from the man glaring at her.
Would he sack her now? Arrest her?
He opened his mouth, and she steeled herself.
“She’ll come work at Ironcrest.”
27
Rafe
Rafe could barely see straight through the rage threatening to bubble over inside him. Another lord taking advantage of those with no power to protect themselves.
Another lord harming others.
Theodora’s mouth popped open. “I beg your pardon?”
“The woman,” he gritted out. “We’ll find a place for her at Ironcrest. Immediately.”
Her light-brown brows slowly drew together. “You want to employ her—the woman who was just here?”
“Yes.” He cocked his head. Was it not obvious that was what he meant? “She needs new employment, does she not? I couldn’t hear everything, but I heard enough. She’s not safe where she is. This won’t be the last time she needs this sort of help.” He knew exactly how men of that ilk worked.
