Margaret Moore (11 page)

“As you say, I would regret losing his business.”

“No. It is more than that.”

“Mistress Burroughs, please go.”

“You feel guilty, I hope. After all, you introduced us. You bear some responsibility—”

A sudden wild notion popped into her head, something that was not at odds with her first impression of him. “Why did you go to the theater?” she demanded.

He hesitated before responding, and that gave her cause to think she was on the right road. “I hardly think I need answer that.”

“Then I shall simply have to guess.”

“Is a lawyer not allowed to go to the theater?”

“Of course he is,” she replied. “Indeed, I am very grateful you went to the theater with Lord Cheddersby. Now Philip is going to have some competition for my hand, and for that, I must thank you.”

“Mistress Burroughs, your affairs of the heart are not my business, unless they involve Sir Philip.”

“And it is of my heart I speak. You knew I didn’t care for Philip, and suddenly there you are at the theater with the unmarried Lord Cheddersby.”

“You are forgetting he asked me to make the introduction.”

“You are reputed to be a very clever man, Mr. Harding, and one does not have to be extremely perceptive to see that Philip is a childish man, likely given to fits of temper and jealous tantrums. I cannot believe you did not foresee this turn of events, although I hope you did not anticipate a duel.”

“Mistress Burroughs, what are you implying?”

“That you have provided competition for my hand to either prevent my marriage, or make my uncle reconsider, or perhaps merely to buy me some time to find out more about Philip myself.”

Mr. Harding looked horrified. “As Sir Philip’s solicitor, it would be unethical of me to furnish an impediment to his plans.”

She frowned, disappointed to think it might be merely coincidence after all. “I suppose one could argue you haven’t done so. You have only made an introduction.”

He nodded.

“I thought you were again acting out of generosity and kindness to a woman who has no one else to help her.”

He flushed and looked away. Because he hadn’t done so—or because he had? Despite all that had happened, she still could not reconcile the man she had met in Bankside with the apparently mercenary attorney before her. “Tell me, Mr. Harding, do you believe I deserve Sir Philip?”

“No,” he replied quickly, and she felt a surge of triumph and excitement as he reddened to the tips of his ears.

He was not as impartial as he would have her believe. “Would you say I deserve better?”

“I have no opinion on that subject, except as befits my position as Sir Philip’s solicitor.”

“Ah, yes, your position as my intended’s solicitor. Would you say Lord Cheddersby is a better marital prospect?”

“I have no opinion on that subject.”

“None at all?”

“No. Please, Mistress Burroughs, go.”

“Because you have many other clients—none of them as rich as my suitors. I understand that must be a powerful inducement to continue representing Philip, even if you would rather not.”

“The reasons I do what I do are none of your business.”

It was hopeless. Even if he did feel anything for her, he was not going to admit it.

And yet … and yet she could not leave without trying once more. If this was to be her last chance to comprehend him at all, she would make it count.

She faced him boldly and declared, “I think I would rather have Sir Philip’s solicitor come between my suitors and me.”

His eyes widened and he wet his alluring lips with his tongue. “Mistress Burroughs, you are spouting nonsense, or harboring some sort of wild fancy.”

“Call it what you will,” she replied. “Perhaps there is even some Latin or legal term you would like to use. Whatever name you wish to put upon how I feel, I know that I believe I could admire and respect you more than I ever could Philip, and I begin to think more than I could any other man.”

“You are being ridiculous.”

“I understand that it must be hard for you to believe, in this day and age, that there is a woman who would rather marry for love than money or position, but you must believe me, Mr. Harding, when I swear to you that I am such a woman. I would rather live in poverty with the man I love than in a palace with a man I abhor. I want to marry a man worthy of my esteem and respect. I want to love and be loved.”

To her dismay, his jaw clenched as he continued to regard her. “You know nothing about me, Mistress Burroughs.”

“I know you are kind and chivalrous, or you would not have come to my aid on the riverbank.”

Something scuttled along the wall nearby.

With a start, Vivienne glanced at the soiled plaster.

“It’s a rat,” Mr. Harding explained grimly. “This place is prone to them.” His expression grew more intense, his scrutiny chilling, as if he were trying to see into her very soul. “I used to play with rats when I was a boy. If that is not enough to tell you that I am not worthy of your esteem and affection, ask yourself this question: How does a boy born in the gutter get to be a solicitor?”

V
ivienne Burroughs’s steadfast gaze did not falter. “I assume through hard work and study.”

“And?”

“And his own merit.”

Rob took a deep breath. He understood the gulf between them, and he would make her see it, too, no matter how much it hurt.

“Listen to me, Mistress Burroughs, and understand why there can never be anything between us. I was found abandoned on a dung heap in an alley when I was but hours old. The man who found me was a beggar and a thief, and he saw an opportunity to make more begging and thieving by using an orphaned child. He took me to an old hag he knew who, by some miracle, did not kill me. When I was old enough, my guardian, such as he was, took me into his trade.”

“It was not your fault if you broke the law when you were a child.”

“Nevertheless, that was all I knew. Stealing, and mudlarking. Hours I spent moving through the disgusting tidal flats of the Thames, looking for anything I could sell. A nail. A piece of metal. A coin, if I was very lucky. Occasionally, I stumbled on a corpse.”

Vivienne shivered, but he did not stop. She must hear everything. “And I picked pockets. Burgled houses. Robbed drunkards, striking them if they put up a fight.”

Seeing the light of both pity and understanding in her luminous eyes, he ran his hand through his hair before he went inexorably on, steeling himself for the worst to come. “You need to know about the man who educated me, Mr. Godwin. I picked his pocket and he caught me, so I spun a false tale of woe for him. I claimed it was my first time, that I was desperate, that I had a mother and several siblings to feed. I made quite a show of crying, too.

“Mr. Godwin saw right through my deception and bluntly told me so. I confess I was never more frightened in my life. I was sure I was going to be imprisoned and either transported or hung.”

“Obviously, you were neither.”

“No. Mr. Godwin told me he had never heard such a pack of lies in his life, not even from a lawyer. Then he asked me if I would like to put my gifts to better use.

“I had no idea what he was talking about. Did he want me to steal for him? I had done so before, for the man who had found me. Mr. Godwin thought that vastly amusing and assured me that was not exactly what he wanted of me.

“With my ability, I had the makings of a lawyer, he said, and he would be glad to educate me in that profession, take me as his clerk, and he would see that I became a solicitor, as he was, provided I would do all that he asked of me.”

He studied her. “Do you understand, Mistress Burroughs? If I would do
whatever
he asked of me, I would have a great opportunity.”

Her eyes widened, horrified, as the meaning of his words dawned on her and no doubt made him repulsive in her beautiful eyes. “He forced you to …?”

Of course she couldn’t say the words. “No, he didn’t force me to do anything except study hard and work and do my best—but I did not know that when he first made his proposal. I
would
have done anything he asked.”

He watched as the first jolt of horror gave way to disgust. He waited for her to flee in revulsion.

“Mr. Godwin would have been a disgusting, horrible man to make such a terrible, immoral offer to a poor and ignorant boy.” Her expression softened. “There is no need to look ashamed, Mr. Harding. You were but a boy anxious to escape your poverty. I was desperate when I ran away from home, but I cannot even imagine the despair and suffering you endured every day, or the fate which awaited you if you had refused that solicitor’s offer. How can I condemn you for that?”

Even though he thrilled to hear her words, there was more to make him ashamed.
“You
ran away rather than sell yourself in marriage to a man you did not want.”

“Perhaps because I was not poor and starving in the streets,” she replied gently. “If I had been, I surely would have welcomed Sir Philip, regardless of how I felt or exactly what he offered.”

“Oh, God,” Rob murmured incredulously, moving back until his heels hit the wall. Then he straightened. “There is more.”

“More?” she asked, concern in every lovely, sympathetic feature.

“You must hear about Janet.”

“Who is she?”

“Was.”

“Who was she?”

“My common-law wife.”

“Your … your wife?”

“We lived together and although we were little more than children playing house, we were lovers.”

“How old were you?”

“About fourteen.”

Her eyes widened, and he knew he must have shocked her.

Then, once again, her gaze grew compassionate. “Your hard life has made you mature beyond your years. I sensed that the first time I met you. And you both wanted to love and be loved, at least in some way. I cannot condemn you for that, especially when you obviously cared very much for Janet. What happened to her?”

Against mere curiosity or pity he could have found the means to sound cold and unfeeling, but not when faced with the sympathetic commiseration in her blue eyes. “She had the chance to become a rich man’s mistress. She took it, as I took my chance. Then her lover cast her off and she threw herself in the Thames rather than come back to me.”

“How terrible—and that is why you were so very determined to help another woman standing alone on the banks of the Thames.”

“Yes.” He took a deep breath. He had started on this course, and he must see it to the end. Vivienne Burroughs had to know all, or else whatever she felt for him was based upon the man he appeared to be, not the man he was. “I wouldn’t have taken her back if she had, for by then I had tried to pick Mr. Godwin’s pocket and was living in his chambers. Janet would not have been welcome there.”

“But you would have helped her somehow, just as you tried to help me,” Vivienne said firmly.

He couldn’t look her in the eye. “I honestly cannot say what I would have done.”

She didn’t speak for a long moment, and his heart sank. She wanted to think him some paragon of virtue, but he most certainly was not.

“Mr. Harding,” she began, her voice sincere and steady, “knowing the outcome, we none of us can say what we might have done differently had we foreseen it, not for certain. We can suppose and we can guess, and I think it’s a very honest man who admits that his response might not have been kind and generous. I won’t condemn you for what might have been.” She made a little smile. “But I can’t believe you would not have helped her if you could. From all I have seen of you, Mr. Harding, that first night and here in your chambers, that is what you do. You help people.”

Her words reached into his soul and for the first time since he had heard of Janet’s fate, he felt the weight of his guilt lighten.

“You don’t want to see other people in such a desperate situation,” she continued. “I only wish I could be doing something half so wonderful,” she murmured, looking down. “All I do is wear dresses.”

He couldn’t resist reaching out to place his hands lightly on her slender shoulders. “Because nobody lets you do otherwise. I know full well how society would consign us all to our places and keep us there.”

“Yes, but a man can do something about it, more so than a woman. All a woman can hope to do is marry well.”

“Yes,” he said, letting go of her.

“If she is very lucky,” she said slowly, “she might get to marry a man who is making a difference in the world by helping people less fortunate, and give him the home he deserves.”

This was dangerous ground. She still had not learned all about his past, and she must.

“There is more to tell, I fear,” he said. “That moment of choice with Mr. Godwin was not the end of it. People assumed I was his Ganymede. Why else would a man in that position suddenly take in a stray youth? It was the scandal of the law courts, and only his wealth and position prevented him from being brought before the court himself. For years I have had to live with the gossip and the rumors. You saw my clients—that is one reason I have so many poor and laboring. The better class do not want me.”

“What care I for old rumors, when I know they are not true? Besides, I don’t think that is the only reason you help those people. I saw your face when you spoke to that woman, as well as when you first spoke to me. You are pleased to help people. If you tell me otherwise, I shall know you are lying. Will you lie to me?”

He couldn’t, not with her steadfast, resolute eyes upon him. “I do like helping them, for they are uneducated people who suffer for their ignorance. I have known too many who have been destroyed by despair, and if I can offer hope—”

“As you did to me.”

“If I can offer hope,” he continued, nodding, “then that is some recompense for living with those rumors.”

“Mr. Harding, you have nothing to be ashamed of, not your clients, or your work, or what people claim you have done. As for the better class, Lord Cheddersby came to you, did he not? And Philip.”

“They are the exception.”

“For now.”

“Or perhaps forever.”

“Perhaps.” She came closer, her gaze searching his face. “For all the good work you do, I think you are lonely, Mr. Harding, as lonely as I am.”