Page 25 of Refining the Debutante
“Very good, sir.” The man accepted the job, and Ethan paid him.
Ethan stepped out of the thatcher’s shop and hesitated as a carriage passed in front of him. When the carriage moved, he saw Miranda exit the apothecary shop across the street.
“Ho, Miss Bartley!” Ethan called from across the street. Some of her hair had pulled free from its bun, causing it to cover one eye as she took one glance at him, pulled her thin, dirt-streaked cloak tighter, and hurried to get away. Something wasn’t right.
He jogged over to her. “Miss Bartley, are you well?”
She heaved a sigh and halted her escape, slowly turning to face him.
He motioned to the brown vial she held in her hand. She appeared to have been up half the night. A gust of wind parted her cloak, revealing a dirty, wrinkled dress.
“I am well enough.” She stole a quick glance at him. “A few of the servants at Gray House have a fever, and I was sent for medicine.”
“Your companion from the other day?”
Miranda nodded. “She was my lady’s maid and traveled with me to Gray House out of the kindness of her heart. I never should have insisted she come.”
Ethan masked his surprise over Miranda being friends with a maid. “You must be anxious to return to her. Might I walk you there?” She was far too beautiful, even in her harried state, to walk alone. She might be accosted by someone of low morals. She eyed him warily, and he did not blame her for hesitating after how they had parted in London. He wished he could forget the way he had treated her, even if he was still resolute in his decision that they were not meant to be together. “Please, I cannot let you walk alone. Especially not this close to the docks.”
Her shoulders drooped, and she acquiesced. “Very well, but you will have to keep up.”
He fell into step with her swift pace, and they weaved their way through town in silence. The wind pushed her dress around her feet, and without her bonnet, he had a clear view of her profile. Her distress urged him to speak up. “My parents are in Bath for my father’s health,” he supplied. He wished he could ease her concerns, but maybe talking of his family would at least provide a distraction. “My brother, Richard, was with them for a time but has just returned to school. Jane and Hannah are residing at our estate in Sussex. My great-aunt has been with them, and they have been shopping to prepare my youngest sister for her debut.”
They passed around a man bartering for goods at a booth.
“I am sorry to hear your father is unwell,” Miranda said. So she had been listening.
“Yes, his gout continually troubles him. I do hope Bath will be good for him—if nothing else, a change of scenery might help.”
He was afraid she would not speak to him again and was surprised when she asked, “How did you find yourself in Folkestone?”
“I am staying with the Earl of Radnor while I look after some business.” Ethan sidestepped a puddle that Miranda plowed through in her haste.
“Business?” Miranda was the one surprised now. “The only thriving business here is fishing. I thought you detested handling fish. Jane loves to tease you about it.”
Ethan chuckled. Miranda remembered that? He had yet to have such rapport with Miss Withers, but it would come with time. “I actually didn’t mind catching the fish, but my friend Harry took them off the line for me. I think I ought to try it again sometime. I daresay I would not be as squeamish as I was as a boy.” He glanced at Miranda, who gave him a knowing look. “I did not distract you from your question, did I? Very well, I will admit why I am here. I am a benefactor for the Harvey Grammar School, a free school for poor boys.”
“Oh?” Miranda lifted a curious brow. “I did not realize. Have you come to make sure they are spending your money well?”
“Not at all.” Why did he feel embarrassed about his admission? Before, he had only helped here and there, but after he had ended things with Miranda, he had put his mind to doing more than ever. “I have come to bring them a student. I met a young chap while in London and have arranged to have him educated here. I also volunteered to see to the school’s immediate needs. I was just securing a thatcher to repair the roof of their garden shed when I happened upon you.”
Miranda paused abruptly and stared at him with an expression unlike Ethan had ever seen on her face before, as if she were seeing the real him for the first time. “How very gallant of you.”
Heat touched the back of his neck. He reached up and covered the redness with his hand, only to find that his cravat and collar hid it from view. “Anyone in my situation would do the same.”
“You are wrong. Most would do nothing. You are truly kind.” She started walking again, intent on the path in front of her.
“Thank you.” Her sincere words brought him a great deal of pleasure. And it served a dual purpose, as Miranda no longer seemed on the brink of despair. Perhaps sharing his motivations for helping at the school would continue to distract her until they reached Gray House. “My father’s steward’s son was my best friend growing up. When I had to go away to Eton, my father instructed me to set my sights higher. I was to make friends with boys who could elevate my status once I became an adult and later a baron. I grew obsessed with the idea of making my childhood friend good enough in the eyes of my father.”
“You were a true friend, then,” Miranda said.
“I wanted to be, but in truth, we have drifted apart because of distance and time.” Ethan shrugged. “It opened my eyes to a world of people who would and could never be my equal. The natural segregation between classes of people, simply because of their birth, has never sat well with me. When I heard of Harvey’s school, I latched on to the idea. I have sponsored only a few boys’ educations, but it has been a worthwhile endeavor.”
At the edge of town, a man called out to him, asking if he wanted to buy bread.
“When was the last time you ate?” He stopped walking, and Miranda reluctantly did as well. Her gaze stayed longingly on the path ahead.
“Have you eaten anything since your meal with me?” She was in too much of a rush to answer him, but he persisted. “You cannot help your friend if you are not well yourself. This will take only a moment.” Ethan bought a slice of buttered bread for her and one for himself.
