Page 37 of The Notorious Lady

“I did not expect you to be this righteous.”

“I am not. I understand the life led by harlots perhaps more than anyone. Harlots and criminals go hand in hand. And I cannot admire either. Indeed, you have just admitted to stealing.”

“From the rich and undeserving. And if you are to condemn whoring, then condemn the men who seek out our services, not us.”

“Can’t I condemn both?” He shook his head. “Here you are creating your own morality when we have established rules. Who are you to decide who is deserving? The laws are created for a reason and one must obey. Otherwise chaos ensues.”

She raised her brow. “Are you saying all laws are to be abided by without exception?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I am saying.”

She leaned back and folded her arms over her chest, as a panther would settle down in the grass before attacking its prey. “And obviously, all crime is bad and every misstep warrants a punishment?”

“Absolutely.” He knew she was getting ready to make a point. He was curious to find out what. “If you’re breaking a law, you should be held accountable.”

“Or—oh, great upholder of the law,” she said in a mocking tone, “perhaps the law is stupid.”

Ford blinked in surprise. That wasn’t the setback he thought she’d deliver. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am serious. Let me explain. If you caught a hungry boy stealing a piece of bread, what would be his punishment?”

“Pillory. Whipping. Imprisonment. Depending on how many times the little devil stole.”

“And you think that’s fair?”

“Yes. It teaches the boy not to steal. And if he continues to do so, the punishment becomes more severe with time.”

“Even if he’s hungry?”

“Everyone is hungry at one point or another. If stealing was condoned, there would be no reason to work.”

“A small boy shouldn’t be the one to work.”

“This we agree on. Little boys should be taken care of by their parents.”

“What if he doesn’t have parents?”

“Then he’d have to go to the orphanage. There is an entire system created by law to take care of issues like this.”

She snorted. “Oh, yes, because the system of orphanages is perfect. Have you ever stepped a single foot in one? Are you assuming that an orphanage is a place of abundance of food and clothes? Because it isn’t. It’s a place with overcrowded walls and single beds filled with two to three children who are forced to work in the factories in order to earn their keep, while their so-called patrons enjoy full bellies of food three to four times a day and their pockets are full of gold. You speak out of a place of privilege. You think the law is absolute, while I think the criminals here are the people who let the child starve. Including the person who would put the boy in prison.” Ford flinched. She was including him with the people she thought of as villains. “You say it’s a crime to steal from a gentleman? I say it’s a crime to have money, stability, and respectability just because you happen to be birthed by a woman married to a titled man.”

“Despite what you might think,” Ford said slowly, leaning closer to her, “I was not born into privilege. My parents were working people. And they died when I was barely fifteen. I was left to fend for myself with a little sister in my arms. And yet I managed to dig myself out of the rubble and make sure to feed and clothe my sister and get a respectable job.”

A pause. For a moment, he thought he’d won the argument. He should have realized by now it was the calm before the storm.

“So, you came from hardship and you find it difficult to understand how people of the same background didn’t reach the same influence you did? You managed to get ahead. Félicitations. Not everyone is dealt the same cards in life. Do not say that you succeeded without the luck of the draw. You were fifteen, not five. You had loving parents until that point, who taught you skills, who gifted you connections. You knew what it was to have a stable home and a roof over your head and strived to model the same environment for your little sister. I wasn’t so lucky. I was taken from home when I was ten or eleven; I do not remember. I did not have a brother to look after me. I was not even left on the street to try and carve out a place I could call home. I was placed in a brothel for depraved men.

“Oui, Monsieur Gunning,” she said, seeing his grimace of pain, and leaned in closer. Her words were like a dagger through his heart. Her eyes shone with the pain of the past. “I can barely remember my existence before that life. Sometimes, I think I was born into this. So, don’t tell me how I should have worked to earn my keep because I did. I escaped a few years later and went to work in a factory, and let me tell you this… It was almost worse. Almost. And yet, I did not have it the worst.

“Some children are born on the street or plucked right out of the crib. What if those were the cards your life dealt you? Where would you have ended up? If your sister went hungry for days and you had no prospects for work, do not tell me you wouldn’t steal to feed her. If your sister was in danger, do not tell me you would not protect her with your life or at the expense of someone else’s. Do not tell me you would not go against the law, your morals, and everything you know to keep her safe because if so, you’re not half the man I thought you to be. Now stop being a hypocrite and open your eyes to the possibility that the laws you’re upholding are criminal.”

Somehow, they leaned even closer together with her every word. The pain on her face, the anger in her voice—he wanted to take it all away and soothe the little girl she’d been. She pulled at the strings of his heart, and somehow, it manifested in their physical closeness, only for the carriage to jostle and send them flying into each other’s arms.

Grace’s hands clutched at his sturdy shoulders to keep herself upright, but she quickly let go as if scorched by fire. He helped her back onto her seat, then leaned back against the cushions and clapped his hands slowly. Once. Twice. Three times. “Well done.”

“I don’t need your praise,” she said quietly. “I know I am right.”

He let out a chuckle. “I shouldn’t have expected you to be modest.”