She did not disagree, but she also knew that such a resolution would be expensive. He must have read the thought from her expression because he sighed.
“I am tilting at windmills.”
“You have friends you wish to help. That is not wrong.”
“I know the cost to the families on my estate. How many more are there that I don’t know?”
“Thousands, I imagine.”
He turned to her and she saw the passion on his face. He wanted to heal friends and country alike, and she admired it.
“Don’t you have a childhood friend who has been hurt by the war?” he asked. “Someone lost, someone broken?”
“And some stronger for their time at war.”
He nodded, admitting her point. Meanwhile Lilah thought not of the men, but the women left behind. Margarite’s father, for example, was a soldier who died on the battlefield. While Lilah had been able to play upon her father’s tender emotions and become adopted into his home, Margarite had no father to turn to.
“I spent my childhood in London,” she said. “I have a friend—a woman now—who I would dearly like to help.”
“Does she have food?”
She nodded. “She has a trade.” An unusual one to be sure, but rope dancing likely paid her bills for now. “But she is a woman without a powerful family to protect her. She is vulnerable to so many ills.”
“And what would you do to help her?” he asked.
She sighed. “I am an unmarried woman. I saved my pin money for months to buy walking boots that fit my feet and were not cast offs from my relations. What can I do to help her?”
He patted her hand where it rested on his arm. “I am sure you are a great comfort to her.”
How little he understood. Until tonight she hadn’t seen Margarite since leaving the theater at the age of nine. “An unwed woman is powerless.” In truth, a married one was powerless as well, except through her husband.
“Do you seek power?”
She shook her head. “Only a good husband.” And legitimate children. No child of hers would ever suffer the label she carried.
“I am sure you will find one soon.” His voice was non-committal, his expression polite. It told her without words that she had not ensnared him even though his gaze continued to linger on her face. She interested him, but not enough, and now she had run out of time. They arrived at the equestrian display. The opportunity for private talk was dwindling, especially as a few of the guests noticed him and headed their way.
She had to do something to enchant him, but what? She had no idea what conversation he liked and, truth be told, she was still rattled by her experience with the drunken dandies. Her thoughts were slow and not turned toward romance. Her only hope was with a cold recitation of her facts. For all that he was an idealist, surely he’d appreciate someone who could handle the practicalities.
“My lord, before your friends join us, I have something to say.”
He arched his brows as he turned his full attention onto her. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized the full force of his attention. As much power as was in his body was there in his gaze a hundredfold. Dark eyes, furrowed brow, and a complete focus on her. It was enough to make her freeze for a second in surprise.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She swallowed and forced herself to give her best. “My lord,” she said, trying not to rush her words. “I am a faithful woman. I have run a household since I was ten. I can manage a staff, organize a ball, and watch the funds to prevent overspending. I would be an asset to any man who would have me.”
His brows rose in surprise. “I’m sure you would,” he began, but she kept speaking rather than hear his denial.
“I don’t need pretty phrases or expensive gifts. I need a man who will stand by me. You can be that man, my lord. I would be a faithful wife and an asset to your home.”
“Well,” he said with a gentleness that gave her reason to hope. “That’s putting it on the line.”
It was and she lifted her chin hoping that he was a man of logic.
“I don’t even know your name,” he said.
“Lilah.”