the desire to help you. Is a life of poverty, pawnshops, scrimping and saving...’ he scowled again as if the cosy little oasis she had lovingly made was somehow abhorrent ‘...truly the life you want for your son?’
‘Was it your intention to insult me and the life I have worked hard to make for myself? For if it was, you have succeeded, sir.’
‘I meant no offence. I am merely trying to help to make your lot in life better after the grievous injustice you have been made to suffer.’
‘By bullying me into your way of thinking? By accepting your money to make yourself feel better about whatever it is that has put a bee in your bonnet?’ She watched his golden eyebrows draw together a second before his eyes dropped to stare at the ground. ‘If you really want to help me improve my lot, my lord, then you can start by sparing me the continued ordeal of your presence or interference.’ Realising her feet had taken her back towards his desk during her impassioned speech, Penny briskly walked back to the door, strangely enjoying the sensation of being angry at a man and not fearing his retribution, although bewildered as to why she didn’t fear it with him when he was so annoyingly overbearing.
It made no difference that his broad shoulders were slumped or that his normally piercing gaze was rooted to the floor as if he was miraculously unsure of himself. As if a man like him would ever know what it truly felt to be uncertain about anything. He deserved one more parting shot and so did she. ‘I have spent three miserable years being dictated to by a man. Three years being bullied and lectured.’
‘You cannot compare my actions to his.’ He appeared hurt at the suggestion.
‘Can I not? You had me spied upon, just like him. You are trying to enforce your will upon me—just like him. And ultimately, whatever your intentions, noble or otherwise, you are using my weaknesses to control me. You just belittled me to my face. Just...like...him.’ She sounded like her old self, the one before Penhurst she still liked. It was a heady feeling and she was proud of herself. This was the Penny she wanted to be again. Brave and undaunted. Unapologetically marching to the beat of her own drum.
‘You are not my master, sir. I cannot begin to tell you how relieved I am that nobody is any longer nor will anyone ever be again. Nor do I need a benefactor. What you see as for my own good to right a wrong, I see as unwarranted and insulting interference now that I finally have my freedom back. If I want money, I will earn it. My labour in return for wages! Because that is an equal transaction, one I am entirely familiar with. One both parties can terminate whenever they see fit.’
Head still bent, his eyes lifted, seeking hers almost tentatively. ‘I find myself again in the awkward position of having to offer you another heartfelt apology, for if you misconstrued any of my actions as bullying then I am mortified. I abhor bullies and it is humbling to realise that in attempting to enforce my will, I inadvertently became one. You are quite correct—you have every right to be angry at me. If it is any consolation at all, I am furious at myself.’ He looked pained and awkward as he slowly picked up the six guineas from the desk and placed them in the drawer. Only once he had pushed it closed did those unusual perceptive eyes lock with hers again. They were swirling with an emotion she couldn’t quite fathom. Regret? Sadness? Shame? Whatever it was it made him seem more human. ‘But for the record, despite all the mounting evidence to the contrary, I swear to you on my life I am nothing like him.’
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