Marquess in Leading Strings
The Marchioness ofHereford’s annual charity fundraiser for the Children’s Hospital sparkled with all the precision of a military campaign disguised as a social gathering. Every detail had been arranged to extract maximum donations while maintaining the illusion of intimate exclusivity.
Amelia adjusted her notebook, grateful that her work allowed her to remain on the periphery of the glittering crowd. Her leg was aching after a long day at the printing press, though she’d rather suffer than let it show. She had just settled into a quiet corner to observe when a feminine voice carried across the room.
“Charles, darling, you must let me fix your hair. How do you already look so charmingly disheveled? Perhaps your valet’s vision needs to be examined?”
“Mother, please,” the Marquess of Hereford said with barely leashed patience as his mother attempted to tame his dark hair. “I assure you I’m perfectly capable of grooming myself.”
Amelia couldn’t help but laugh at the marchioness’ shameless pride in her son who was apparently still in his leading strings. The sound escaped before she could contain it, a brief musical note that drew the attention of both mother and son.
The marchioness turned sharply amid patting her son’s cheeks. “I see you find the discussion of my son’s virtues amusing, Miss Thornton. Perhaps if you spent more time cultivating feminine gracesrather than opinions, you might understand their worth.”
“My apologies, your ladyship. I was merely admiring the unconditional love mothers are able to bestow on their children.”
Somewhat pacified, Lady Hereford’s eyes roamed over Amelia’s form while her son observed the exchange with interest. “Why are you lurking around here? I was expecting your brother. The invitation was addressed to theMetropolitan Review’sproprietor.”
“I am the proprietor, my lady.” Amelia kept her tone pleasant. “Mr. Thornton, my brother, gifted me full ownership last year.”
The marchioness’ face performed a fascinating series of expressions, finally settling on barely concealed horror. “A lady journalist? But surely such work isn’t… that is to say, a woman?”
An unfamiliar voice interrupted smoothly, “Miss Thornton’s background makes her uniquely qualified to report on London’s commercial interests.” Viscount Norwich joined their group. “I particularly appreciated your recent series on educational reforms, Miss Thornton. Your analysis of the peerage education was very thorough.”
The sincerity in his tone made Amelia look at him more closely. They’d greeted each other politely when their paths crossed at Hyde Park but had not spoken. He met her gaze warmly.
“You’re familiar with Miss Thornton’s work, Lord Norwich?” The marchioness’ tone suggested this was hardly a recommendation.
“Indeed. I take pride in informing my peers that theReviewought to be required reading among London’s business community.” He smiled at Hereford. “What say you, Hereford. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Miss Thornton’s writings are occasionally worth noting,” Hereford drawled, barely glancing in her direction. “Though one must wade through considerable melodrama to find the substance.”
Amelia tried not to clench her jaw too visibly. “Perhaps because my observations, like scarecrows, are only noticed when the crows are already feasting on the crops,” Amelia replied, her polite smile notquite reaching her eyes.
Norwich’s eyes sparkled before addressing Amelia. “Miss Thornton, your piece on medical care in poorer districts struck a particularly personal chord. My late wife…” He stopped, pain briefly crossing his features. “Well, access to proper medical care can make all the difference, can’t it?”
“Lord Norwich has been quite generous to the hospital,” the marchioness said to Hereford, clearly trying to steer the conversation toward safer waters. “He’s introduced many donors to the establishment. Invaluable connections.”
Hereford’s lips twitched. “More valuable than actual donations, Mother? How fortunate that you’d prefer a rooster over an egg-laying hen.”
The marchioness waved this away. “We all help the less fortunate in our own way, dearest. You taking time out of your precious day to be here, for instance. True nobility has different priorities.”
Amelia caught Hereford’s slight wince at his mother’s gushing praise. It was almost endearing how uncomfortable he looked being cast as the philanthropic hero when he’d likely stumbled in here by accident.
“Speaking of philanthropy,” Norwich said, “I’d be very interested in hearing more about your observations regarding hospital conditions, Miss Thornton. Perhaps we could discuss it over tea sometime? Purely professional interest, of course.”
Something sharp flashed in Hereford’s eyes. “Miss Thornton’s next article focuses on factory owners who value profits over worker safety. You must have quite the perspective on that topic, Norwich.”
Amelia tensed while Norwich’s face went slightly pink.How did the marquess know about her next article?
As if to read her mind, Hereford’s baritone voice added, “The Duchess of Lancaster mentioned it the other day.”
Amelia bristled at his eyes, which seemed to dance with mockeryeven when he was saying something perfectly appropriate. “I’m conducting a rather extensive investigation into several accidents that occurred at prominent factories over the past few years. The results should illuminate the factory owners’ priorities.”
She watched Hereford carefully as she spoke, noting how his eyes sharpened even as his mouth curved in a grin.
“Speaking of priorities, I believe the Widow Rutland could benefit from my social obligations.” He offered his mother a rakish wink. “Don’t wait up, darling Mama.”
The marchioness watched her son saunter away with obvious pride. “Such a delightful boy. Though I don’t know where he gets his wild streak from.”