Page 35 of The Good Fortune of Miss Robbins

We decided to pause our playing and have tea. As we were walking, I ended up a bit isolated from the others as we passed through the hedge. Then I saw Miss Rose Rutledge draw near, as if she’d beenwaiting for me. She said in a hushed voice, “I don’t know what you aim to achieve from this little game, but you will not get your claws into Lord Brookhaven. He would never marry a servant.”

She said the last word with a sneering twist of her lips.

I stared at her, too surprised to think of a retort.

Her face changed as she seemed to catch sight of someone, and she called out, “Lord Brookhaven.”

He was rather close behind me. Had he heard what she’d said about him never marrying a servant? I couldn’t tell from the impassive look on his face.

“Miss Rutledge,” he said cooly, then addressed me. “Do you think Samuel and Annabelle would enjoy this game?”

“Oh yes. I wanted to ask if we could leave the alley set up as it is so that I can teach them to play.” My words were a bit halting, as I was still recovering from the shock of Miss Rutledge’s words. Was she truly worried that Lord Brookhaven might want to marry me? That I was scheming to make him propose marriage? There was a pain in my chest that I’d better not examine just now, right here.

He was gazing into my eyes, and the thought occurred to me that Rose Rutledge was jealous—jealous ofmeand the attention Lord Brookhaven paid to me.

It was such a strange thought, but once again, I couldn’t examine my feelings just now, as I was completely captured by his gaze. There was such a serious expression on his face. What was he thinking?

The rest of the day and evening, Rose Rutledge seemed to hover around Lord Brookhaven, while his mood was quiet and his expression morose.

William paced around his room after all his guests had retired to bed.

He wished he’d never invited Rose Rutledge to his house party. How dare she speak to Charlotte Robbins that way?

But it was evidence of two things: one, that he had allowed hisfeelings for Charlotte to show more than he’d intended; and two, that his plan to try to get his friends to accept Charlotte Robbins into their social circle was not working as well as he might have liked. Even Merritt and Markeley were beginning to notice his attitude toward Miss Robbins was more as an admirer than employer. They’d mentioned it to him the night before.

“You know you can’t marry her,” Markeley had said as he and Merritt caught him in the hallway near their rooms.

“If you wish to set her up in her own place, no one will judge you, as long as you’re discreet.” Merritt said the words quietly.

“So you wish me to ruin her while saving my reputation?”

“Ruin her?” Markeley sneered. “She’s a governess.”

William thought about punching him in the face. “You must think me a selfish heathen who cares about no one but himself.”

“What do you mean?” Markeley said, looking truly confused. “Miss Robbins could hardly get a better offer. She’d never have to work another day, and you’d provide well for her, I’m sure.”

Again, the thought of punching him was very appealing, but William knew the man was only speaking as a selfish, privileged young gentleman of theton, unused to thinking of the welfare and the feelings of others. And both Merritt’s and Markeley’s spiritual state was much worse than he’d imagined, that they could be so off-hand about leading an innocent woman into a life of degradation and sin.

“Send her away, then,” Merritt said. “But don’t throw yourself away on her. Even now you could have Miss Rose Rutledge for fifty thousand pounds. Or many other young ladies of even higher social standing.”

He turned his face in the opposite direction, taking a moment to calm himself. When he was confident he could speak in a cool, collected manner, he said, “So you think her unworthy of marriage to a gentleman?”

They both stared at him for a moment. Finally, Merritt said, “That is not the issue.”

Markeley added, “You’re not making sense.”

“The issue is not her worthiness as a wife but your worthiness as an earl. You should be marrying the daughter of an earl, or at least the daughter of someone...” Merritt seemed to be searching for the right word. “Someone with an old name and a fortune.”

“At least one or the other,” Markeley added.

He could try to explain to them that he wanted someone who was worthy due to their good character. Or he could tell them that he wanted to make certain he didn’t end up married to someone like his mother—or his father. But they’d never understand. To them, marriage was similar to winning the best prize in a contest, and neither the prize nor the contest had anything to do with the person’s character or temperament.

“So if it was discovered that she had an old name or a fortune . . . ?”

“Since she was a governess, she’d need both to be accepted,” Merritt said.

“A large fortune, though ... that’s probably all she needs to make her respectable.” Markeley raised his brows. “But there isn’t much chance of that, since she’s an orphan.”