Page 27 of The Unfortunate Debutante
Removing his top hat, Simeon placed it next to him on the bench. “I understand that Mr. Lockhart was a suitor of yours.”
The smile dimmed from Miss Pearson’s lips. “That’s not accurate. We grew up together, but Peter was a year older than my brother, David. From a young age, he had it in his mind that we would marry, but I continually rejected his courtship.”
“May I ask why?” he asked.
Simeon noticed that she’d begun wringing her hands together in her lap.
“Peter was a bit possessive, and he was known to have a nasty temper. He never struck me, but it was rumored that he struck the maids at his home if they displeased him,” she explained.
“If you hadn’t become the ward of Lord Downshire, would you have married Mr. Lockhart?” he asked directly.
“No,” she answered without hesitation. “My father owned a store in town, and I planned to work there to support myself.”
Fearing he misheard her, he repeated, “You planned to work?”
“I am fully capable of working, Mr. Martin, and I do not appreciate the censure in your tone,” Miss Pearson huffed.
“My apologies, I just assumed that a lady of your station…”
“My station?” Miss Pearson pressed her lips together, drawing his attention to their crimson color. “Before I became Lord Downshire’s ward, I was just a constable’s daughter. My boarding school taught me the usual subjects, but my father paid extra for me to be taught plain and fancy needlework, music, drawing, dancing, and French. Furthermore, I learned the skills that would allow me to find employment, if I ever needed to.”
“Which boarding school did you attend?”
“Westmoreland House Boarding School in Witney,” she informed him.
He stared back at her in disbelief. “You went to Westmoreland House Boarding School?”
Miss Pearson gave him a baffled look. “I did.”
“My younger sister is there now, at the cost of thirty-five guineas a year.”
Her brow lifted. “I daresay that my father did not pay that inflated amount.”
“Do you know how much your father did pay?”
Miss Pearson shook her head. “I do not. But I know he did not have the funds to pay a fee of thirty-five guineas.”
Simeon adjusted his jacket. “Was your father’s shop profitable?”
“I assume so.”
“But you don’t know for sure?” he pressed.
For a quick moment, Simeon saw irritation flash in her green eyes, and he knew he’d pushed her too far with his line of questioning.
“Lord Downshire has been gracious enough to handle my father’s business deals. I encourage you to direct your questions to him,” she replied, turning her gaze out the window.
The carriage came to a stop in front of a stately townhouse. The door was opened, and Mr. Martin exited the carriage first so he could assist the ladies. However, the moment Miss Pearson placed her gloved hand into his, he felt a jolt of something indescribable. He waited until her foot was on the ground before he drew back his hand, not understanding what had caused that reaction.
Miss Pearson gave him a tentative smile. “We will be inside for at least a few hours. I’m not entirely sure what a Bow Street Runner does, but you are welcome to rest your eyes while you’re waiting.”
Placing his hat on his head, he replied, “A Bow Street Runner does not take naps while on assignment.”
“Pity,” Miss Pearson teased as she followed Mrs. Morton up to the iron gate. A footman opened the gate, and they stepped inside.
Once he saw Miss Pearson walk inside the townhouse, Simeon started walking around the property, looking for anyone that might be surveying the surrounding area.
The townhouse sat on the corner within a few blocks of a rough section of town. It always amazed him how closely the wealthy and the poor lived, but they had little or no interaction. A stone wall ran along the back of the property, and it appeared to be fairly easy to climb, assuming the need arose.
