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Reina extended her hand. “The advertisement, if you please.”
June resisted, puffing in indignation. “What would Mr. Farlow say about this?”
Although the question was perfectly reasonable—William Farlow had become a close friend and mentor—it annoyed Reina. One of the advantages of being a single, self-supporting woman was that she didn’t have to ask for anyone’s permission.
“He won’t like it,” she said. “But it’s my house and my money.”
“What would me ma say?” June demanded.
“She’d say ‘Come back to Nether Wallop and live in the vicarage with me and your stepfather. You can help me cook for his seven children, and every evening we’ll listen to him practice his Sunday sermons.’ ”
“Bugger.” June shoved the scrap of newspaper into her waiting hand. “Why ask for my opinion when you’ll do it anyway? Go on, hire as many slamkins as you please. What do I care if we end up plucked like a pair of Aylesbury ducks?”
Reina gave her a faintly apologetic smile. “I only want to interview a few of them.”
June shook her head. “You always try to think the best of everyone you meet,” she said darkly. “It’s a problem, Queenie. A very big problem.”
“Yes, I know. Let’s not go over this same old ground, dear—”
“You may be a financial prodigal with all your Lombard Street business talk—”
“Prodigy.”
“—but when it comes to people, you’re a spoon. Which is why I’m going with you.”
“Really, there’s no . . .” Reina’s voice faded as she saw her friend’s adamant expression. “Bother,” she muttered, and went back upstairs.
Chapter Three
Dining While Female
I suppose you don’t want my opinion on the matter,” William Farlow said the next day, as he and Reina sat in the main dining room of a historic London restaurant.
“Correct,” she said, smiling at him.
“Nevertheless, I intend to give it. You and June have no man in the house. The notion of hiring former prison inmates as servants, letting them live with you—”
“I’ll interview them personally and review their records with care.”
William had started shaking his head before she’d even finished the sentence. “Let me make a few inquiries. Some of my acquaintances may have a servant or two they can spare. Failing that, I’ll send a footman and maid from my own staff to help you at Westbrook House.”
“You’re very kind, but I’ve already made an appointment to visit the Second Chance Agency.”
“This won’t do, Reina. You’re courting disaster.”
“How can any of these people become productive members of society if no one will hire them? I know what it’s like to be stigmatized—which is why I can’t judge any of them without knowing more about their circumstances.”
William swore softly beneath his breath. “How can you be so intelligent and yet so naïve?”
“Not naïve,” Reina protested, her lips quirking. “Hopeful. Which isn’t easy, William—it’s a constant act of will.”
As she unfolded her napkin, the low murmur of conversation became noticeably quieter. The clink of cutlery against plates slowed, then resumed.
A waiter rolled a silver-domed carving stand over to them. After removing the dome to reveal a baron of beef, he sliced the roast, served the plates with boiled vegetables, and pushed the wheeled stand to the next table.
Reina beamed at William. “How nice this is.”
“It doesn’t compare to our usual meals.”
