Page 106 of Never a Duke
Ned did this frequently—asked Rosalind to pause and consider her true wishes and needs. She returned the favor, and they were slowly acquiring a habit of greater self-examination. Lord Stephen was more in evidence at the bank, Ned spent more time on his new project—turning the bank’s approach to the badgers into a plan for a school that took in the children of prisoners and transportees.
“Autumn in Derbyshire is beautiful,” Rosalind said. “Could we bring along a few of the children?”
Ned shifted from his wing chair to take the place beside Rosalind on the sofa. “I would rather have you all to myself, to be honest. We never had a wedding journey, and I believe Francine and the staff would manage without us well enough for a few weeks.”
Rosalind had made the choice to remain in London while the whole scandal of George’s arrest and trial were ongoing. Her Grace of Walden had been a stanch ally, as had the ladies who shared Rosalind’s concern for ill-treated animals.
Part of Rosalind’s motivation had been to ensure that Francine, Calliope, and the other ladies were all settled back into a decent life, inasmuch as that was possible. Francine had taken an interest in Ned’s project, and had turned out to have a way with upset children.
Several of the other women had taken on various roles, and Hope House now provided a home for two dozen children in addition to the eight teachers and staff who looked after them. Two of the older children assisted in Bob’s new shop several days a week, two were badgers, two assisted in the Walden stables.
The small-investor businesses had proved to be a fertile source of posts for the remaining older children, though duties were always light and secondary to basic education.
“Do you ever think of leaving the bank to make the school a full-time venture?” Rosalind asked, snuggling up to her husband.
“Yes.”
Ned’s answer should not have surprised her—he was a ruminating sort of fellow—but the alacrity of his response did.
“And?”
“And now is not the time,” Ned said. “Maybe after Papa arrives from Port Jackson, maybe in a few years. We are still in the learning-as-we-go phase, which never quite ends, and the school needs patrons if it’s to thrive. My personal fortune is sufficient to get the venture off on sound footing, but we want to establish an institution that will thrive well beyond our stewardship of it.”
“Would the bank become a patron?”
“Possibly.”
“What about Rothhaven? He’s a bright fellow and apparently quite the wizard with investments.”
“I hadn’t thought of him.”
People tended not to think of Rothhaven. He was the quietest, most unassuming peer Rosalind had had the pleasure of losing a hand of cards to. He was also devoted to his duchess, fond of children and animals, and shrewd without trumpeting his insights for all to admire.
Rosalind adored him and suspected he would gladly take a place among the school’s sponsors.
“He’d advise an endowment,” Ned said. “A fund that produces income, one that can grow gradually as the school’s alumni go forth into the world and prosper, perhaps adding a little to the fund themselves in the years to come.”
“I like that plan, Ned Wentworth. I like that vision.”
“I like you,” Ned said, squeezing her in a one-armed hug. “I was prepared to adore you, to desire you madly, and to give you my heart for all time, but Rosalind…”
Oh, how she treasured this courage of his, this honesty. “Ned?”
“You are my friend,” he said, kissing her fingers. “You have become my best, most intimate friend, and that is…I know now why Walden would die for his duchess. Why he has put aside arrogance and old hurts, along with all the mistakes that can make a man small. You do the same for me, you make me brave enough to grow past what holds me back.”
“The courage is your own, Ned, and I would still be bracing myself for Woodruff’s next insult were it not for you. I would not have a school to manage, two duchesses among my friends, and two dozen birthday parties to plan.”
The children were quite keen on birthday parties, as was—oddly enough—the staff.
“Do you know that today is a very special day?” Ned said, nuzzling Rosalind’s temple.
“Today is Thursday.”
“Not just any Thursday. Today is my birthday, Rosalind.”
“This is your second birthday this week, sir. At this rate you will soon be older than Methuselah.”
“I know why he lived so long,” Ned said, rising and offering Rosalind his hand.
