Page 79 of Harpy of the Ton
“Because it’d destroy her—and I’m not doin’ your dirty work. You have to tell her before it’s too late.”
It’s already too late for me.
Lawrence couldn’t imagine not having her in his life. The children had never been cleaner. Jonathan, while still timid, seemed happier. William, though still full of mischief, at least did what he was told—most of the time. As for Roberta—for the first time in months she gave more than monosyllabic answers when he asked her a question. And though Bella had taken to putting all sorts of nonsensical ideas into her head, such as why women should have the same opportunities in life as men, he had to admit that his daughter—in fact, all his children—were a joy to be around.
As forher…
Lady Arabella Ponsford had a vile temper. But Bella Baxter…
Bella had a temper, but rather than coming from a meanness of the soul, it came from a desire for justice—justice for her, justice for women, and justice for his children. Many said that the fiercest creature in the world was a female protecting her young. The children might not be Bella’s, but she protected them with a ferocity that warmed his heart.
Which only made his deception worse. Bella Baxter was the better person—but she didn’t exist. She was an imposter—as if Lady Arabella Ponsford had been killed and replaced by another.
And he’d been the one to kill her.
He set his ale aside.Fuck—it must be strong. An excess of liquor always did elicit uncomfortable truths.
Or had his conscience finally awoken?
Either way, he’d made an almighty mistake.
“Bella’s happy here,” he said.
“A lame excuse,” Ned replied. “How can she be happy with her lot when she didn’t choose it? She’s uttered no vows of obedience, no pledge to serve you.”
“Neither does any servant, Ned. Do you think them that had to obey Lady Arabella’s orders were willing? No—they had no other choice.”
“Butshehas a choice,” Ned said. “Like it or not, she’s different to the likes of us. You can argue about the fairness of that till your cock drops off, but it’s not for us to change the world, or to run about in mobs cutting off the heads of folk that have more than us out of resentment.”
“That’s a big leap from a man wanting justice to a revolutionary.”
“Not from where I’m sitting.”
“So, I should send her back to that worthless lecher who’ll treat her as nothing more than a possession?”
“How does that differ to the wayyou’retreating her?” Ned asked. “She’s a possession—living in a cottage rather than a mansion. Or perhaps you consider yourself the better man because youknowwhat you’re doing to her is wrong.”
“I do know it’s wrong, Ned,” Lawrence said. “I’ve struggled to reconcile myself with my conscience these past weeks.”
“Which makes you worse than the duke,” Ned said coldly. “He’s been brought up to expect to have ownership over others. He’s like the fox—an animal that kills livestock because it knows no better. Butyou”—he jabbed his finger at Lawrence’s chest—“you’re like a murderer—you know it’s wrong, yet still you do it.”
Lawrence leaped from his seat, curled his hand into a fist, and rammed it into Ned’s chest.
“I’m not a murderer!” he cried. “She’s safer with me than she ever could be with that man. I won’t send her back to him—he’ll never care for her, much less love her! Whereas I…”
He trailed off.
Bloody hell—where hadthatcome from?
Ned sat back, rubbing his chest.
“Fuck, that hurt. I don’t know why you won’t take part in the bouts at the Oak. You’d make a packet.”
“I’m a gardener, not a knucklehead.”
“And you’re a fool who’s waded into water too deep for him.”
“What do you mean?”
