The Baron and the Bluestocking Read Free Page A

reasons. This man is full of contradictions.
    All at once, Hélène decided she had been far too strident and unpleasant. “I must tell you that despite our differences, I feel that the idea to found this school was truly inspired,” she said. “Why did you do it?”
    “You think me incapable of a charitable impulse?” he asked with a smile.
    Hélène blushed. How ungracious she sounded! This man made her feel verbally quite inept. “Not at all. It is just that even if anyone of your station is to take note of poverty, the plight of females is sadly invisible, I find.”
    His eyes turned serious. Hélène took a step back.
    “I was serving as a guard over the women in the Duchess of Ruisdell’s soup kitchen for wounded soldiers in the East End, when I saw a girl of no more than ten or eleven. She was going off with a gentleman for an obvious assignation. I do not think I have ever felt such revulsion . . . or such powerlessness.” He paused, running a hand over the back of his scalp, disarranging his Brutus-cut locks. He squinted. Hélène imagined he was seeing the scene over again in his mind. It obviously tormented him. “It sickened me to such an extent that I went after the pair, ran the man off, and gave the girl three guineas. To my surprise, she subjected me to a Cockney harangue. Said the gentleman of . . . shall we say ‘unusual’ tastes was a regular customer and now he might not come back.”
    Hélène stared at him for a moment. “How absolutely horrid.”
    “It occurred to me that she had no other way of bringing in money. Single, orphaned females in the East End are not depraved, they simply have no skills. No profession except the oldest one.” He turned his green gaze upon her. “The answer is not giving them money. The answer is to help them to change their situation themselves. Thus the education scheme.”
    She nodded her agreement.
    He continued, “The Duke of Beverley had opened an orphanage where he taught East End boys to read. Why not open a school for girls?”
    “I take my hat off to you, my lord. Or would if I were wearing one.” Hélène bestowed her brightest smile upon him. She felt tears burning in her eyes at the same time.
    “Can it be that you look upon me with slightly less disfavor?” he asked, still maintaining his serious mien.
    “Slightly less. Are you aware that the vast majority of women on these islands is illiterate?”
    “That, I am afraid, is beyond my power to correct.”
    “Even in Parliament? Could you not sponsor a bill for female literacy? For female education?”
    “Miss . . . uh . . . Hodge, even the majority of males on these islands is illiterate. One would need to sponsor a bill for universal education. I do not think the Tories could ever support such legislation. It reeks of the French égalité and fraternité. The entrenched Conservatives are far too sensitive to revolution at the moment.”
    Lady Clarice joined them from the dining room she had been inspecting with the other teachers. Evidently, she had heard his lordship’s comment, for with her usual practicality she said, “Lord Shrewsbury is right, Hélène. Such a day will come. But most likely it will not be in our lifetime. What we need is a powerful queen. That, I imagine, would make all the difference.” Hélène’s mentor smiled her cheerful smile, tilting her head to one side. She put one in mind of the first brave robin in spring. “For now, we must make a success of this school.”
    “Yes,” Hélène said. “But I will not give up hope for a larger agenda.”
    Suddenly, Lord Shrewsbury grinned. His eyes traversed her form and she was made conscious that he was seeing her as a woman in the physical sense. She hoped he could not see the tremor that started in her knees and traveled up her body.
    “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “Dogmatism is not the least bit attractive.”
    She felt as though he had dealt her a blow. Tears started to her eyes again, though these