a principled man who believed in right and wrong. Good and evil. Justice and truth. A man who righted wrongs, not caused them. How dare she even suggest his motives were fuelled by...what? Malpractice? Deceit? Wrongdoing? And on what evidence was his good reputation so unfairly besmirched?
But as he paced the worn old rug on the hard, scuffed wooden floor, took in the mismatched furniture, the cramped and basic surroundings alongside the proud and clearly frightened woman stood before him, he couldn’t help but remember a similar scene years ago. And another time when he had attempted to rescue a woman who flatly refused to be rescued because there was nothing she needed to be rescued from.
Absolutely nothing.
Hadleigh realised that losing his temper now, just as it had done then, would not help her at all. Better to stick to reason, logic and the truth and keep emotion well out of it.
‘I can see why you would jump to that conclusion, so please allow me to reassure you. My actions had nothing to do with guilt regarding your husband or the way his trial was carried out. I am sorry if you find that difficult to hear, but on that score I am remorseless...’ Good grief! Hardly the best way to win her over and accept his benevolence in the spirit it was intended. ‘I acted as I did more out of a sense of regret that you had to suffer more than was necessary and completely unjustly. If the Crown refused to see you right, then someone needed to. I am a wealthy man, so it was no hardship for me to help. Consider it my penance for failing to get the Crown to see sense.’ He was righting a wrong. It was that simple.
‘That does not explain why you saw fit to have me spied upon these past months.’
‘I didn’t have you spied upon.’ So much for sticking to reason, logic and the truth. Hadleigh found himself wincing. She had a perfectly valid reason to be angry with him and now that he was seeing it all through her eyes, he had made a royal hash of it. ‘All right... I suppose in a manner of speaking I did, but again it was not done with any malice. After you had been left with nothing—through no fault of your own, I might add—I needed to reassure myself you and your child were coping all alone. When the Runner informed me you were selling your jewellery...’
‘Insignificant pieces to which I had no attachment.’ Her pretty face flushed as she resolutely avoided her friends’ sympathetic eyes and he realised he had inadvertently put his big, fat foot in it again. Like his mother, she was too ashamed of her situation to accept help despite none of it being her fault. ‘Things given to me by a husband which I would prefer to forget and mine to dispose of as I see fit.’ Despite the fact that both her friends, and he, knew she was pawning her mother’s jewellery to pay her monthly bills, she was still labouring under the misapprehension that her friends, at least, didn’t. ‘I no longer wanted any reminders of him in my house.’
She was proud in the face of defeat and his heart wept for her. His hands wanted to touch her, tug her into his arms and hold her close. What was that about, aside from the bone-deep exhaustion which came from weeks of sleeplessness? No wonder his emotions were a tad frayed and close to the surface. ‘A perfectly understandable reason to sell them and one which makes me sorrier my heavy-handed and unnecessary response has caused you both worry and embarrassment.’
‘I am not in need of charity, Lord Hadleigh.’
‘That I can plainly see, my lady.’ Blast it all to hell, he had gone about this all wrong. Pride always came before a fall and, like his mother, this one would rather suffer in silence than allow the world to see her pain. He, of all people, should have pre-empted such a reaction. ‘And once again, I humbly apologise for insulting you. It was well intentioned, although, I concede, highly inappropriate and misguided.’
It was time to make a hasty retreat before he was backed into a corner of his own making and forced into rescinding his gift before she had had time to mull over the many benefits of it. Given a little time, and the obvious easing of her financial burdens, she might be convinced to keep it.
‘I really meant no offence, or to cause you worry of any kind. Although I can see that my ham-fisted, overbearing and overzealous attempt at helping you has done exactly that, and for that I am sorry. This has most definitely not been my finest hour. But know that I am on your side whether you want me to be or not.’ From his pocket he produced a calling card which he gently pressed into her hand, making it impossible for her to refuse it. For some reason, his fingers longed to linger so he quickly snatched them away.
‘What I should have done all those months ago, rather than put a watch on you, was simply this. Should you need anything...anything at all...money, help...a ham-fisted but well-meaning friend...all you need do is ask. Whatever it is, whenever it is, send word to this address and I will move heaven and earth to see it done.’ Before she could respond he bowed. ‘Good day to you, Lady Penhurst. Thank you for allowing me the chance to explain and to see for myself the error of my ways. You have been most gracious.’ Then, with the swiftest and politest of nods to the room in general, he promptly turned and marched swiftly out the door.
Three days of silence lulled him into a false sense of security, so Hadleigh wasn’t expecting his clerk to inform him she had turned up at his chambers unannounced, wishing to speak to him. While the clerk went to fetch her, he braced himself for another difficult conversation and was not disappointed. She arrived ramrod straight and proud, only her eyes giving him any indication she was nowhere near as confident as she wanted to portray. They were wide and restless, darting every which way before finally settling on him stood politely behind his paper-strewn desk.
‘Please forgive the intrusion, Lord Hadleigh, but I needed to speak with you.’
The gaunt, pale woman from the courtroom was gone and clearly her appetite had improved in the intervening months, as the same dull spencer which had once hung from her frame was now filled with gloriously feminine curves. She might be petite in stature, but there was no disguising she was all woman. Something he had no right noticing considering the circumstances.
‘It is no intrusion at all.’ He gestured to the chair opposite and she sat daintily on the edge, gripping her reticule for all she was worth. Her errant hands, once again, saying much more of the truth than he was likely to get out of her pretty mouth. ‘What did you wish to speak to me about, Lady Penhurst?’
Her dark brows drew together in an expression of what he thought might be distaste as her fingers toyed with the ribbon handle of her bag. ‘I am not Lady Penhurst any longer and, if you don’t mind, I would prefer not to be addressed as such. I go by Mrs Henley now, which was my mother’s maiden name.’ Her troubled blue eyes flicked to his briefly as she shrugged an apology. He found himself drowning in their intense, stormy depths. ‘There is less chance of my being recognised with a run-of-the-mill name and I would prefer not to use my real married name any more...for obvious reasons.’ And there it was again, that flash of distaste, although whether it was at the thought of her husband or her situation, he had no idea.
‘Of course...very wise.’ He settled back in his chair, hoping his posture would help her to relax, calmly waiting for her to proceed. It didn’t. Only the smallest fraction of her bottom was on the chair, her knuckles quite white as she continued to nervously fiddle and twist the ribbons further.
After a few seconds ticked by awkwardly, she sat up straighter. ‘The thing is, I went to visit my landlord, Mr Cohen, this morning...and was informed you have made no attempt to contact him since our last meeting...to retrieve your money.’
‘Mrs Henley, might I speak plainly?’ She nodded, eyes widening once
