“Of course, you do. You don’t value skills. A man is not measured by his ability. He is measured first and foremost by his parents.”
He looked at her hard and his jaw tightened. “You do not know what I value, Miss Rees.”
That was true enough, but her anger was spilling out. Perhaps it was because he listened. Or more likely, it was because she knew he would never marry her simply because she was a bastard. She’d spent a year longing for him only to realize that she had missed her chance with him. Why? Because of her ill-fated parentage. It infuriated her, and now that she was alone with him, she couldn’t guard her tongue. She wanted him. He was an admirable man, and he was beyond her grasp. That made her furious.
“Do you know that I have a gift for organization? No matter the task, no matter the disaster, I can have it sorted out into a logical system.”
He looked at her for a moment and nodded. “Would it surprise you to know that England’s army could not function without a legion of hardy women who help set up the camps, who run the laundries and other services, who make sure our men are cared for in every way possible?”
She had not known that. “I am impressed.”
“They are impressive women.”
“No, my lord. I am impressed that you would admit such a thing.” In her experience, men never acknowledged a woman’s efforts unless pressed.
His expression darkened. “You know so little of me.”
Which was entirely his fault. If he had been in London this year, she would have moved heaven and earth to know him better. But that thought was unworthy of her. His father had been ill. He’d had no choice but to care for his parent.
“I beg your pardon,” she finally said, as she tried to grab hold of her temper. It didn’t work because she kept speaking. “But I still believe you are part of a system that values birth over ability. How can you say that a skilled workman is worth less than a wastrel of a lord who’s only purpose in life is to chase skirts and drink away his days?”
“I would never say such a thing.” He spoke so vehemently that she wanted to believe him.
“And yet you will only socialize with those of equal birth. You spend your days among the moneyed elite, and your evenings with their daughters.”
“I have spent my evenings with my mother,” he groused, “and my days with the cowherds.” He turned her back to their walk, stepping carefully through the debris on the London street. “I submit to you, Miss Rees, that you are equally biased.”
“I am not! I cannot be!”
“On the contrary, you can. You have looked for a husband only among the elite. You have tried to marry into the exact problem you claim to abhor.”
“I merely wish to marry respectably. That is no crime.”
“Of course not. But were you to truly honor the skills of a man above his birth, then why have you not searched among the workmen of London? There are many worthy gentlemen there.”
He had her there. When she’d been younger, she had flirted with the footmen, at least a little. She had also tested her feminine wiles upon a man who sold fabric and another who baked the most amazing tarts. “Lady Rees once caught me spending time with a tradesman. Several times the gentleman walked with me to the market, and she spied us returning together.”
He turned to look at her. “Just returning together?” he pressed.
She colored. “She caught us kissing.”
“Hmmm.” The sound was half growl, half question.
“She locked me in my bedroom on bread and water for a week. She only let me out because she needed me to set the meals for the family.”
“Why?” he seemed genuinely perplexed. “Was the man a blackguard?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then what was her reasoning?”
That was a question that had plagued her for much of her life. Why had Lady Rees brought her—her husband’s bastard—into the home to be raised as if she were a true daughter? “She said I was a blueblood, and I would act that way.” She huffed out a breath. “But I’m only half-blue, and no amount of polish will change that simple fact of my birth.”
“It was your mother then,” he said, his voice low. “How very curious.”
“It was Lady Rees,” she corrected. “My mother was an actress and Lord Rees’ mistress.” She had not meant to sound so bitter, but Lord Kittrel made her emotions roil. Her feelings pressed her in his presence, with desire and fury being the hardest to control. She knew it was normal among the elite that a man should have a mistress, but no accommodation was made for the children of such a union. What future did she have as a bastard woman? And why had her father doomed her to this half-life?
“I am sorry that their mistakes have fallen upon you,” he said, his voice kind. “That is an inadequate statement, I know, but I cannot do more.”