her because she had no pedigree either. Of course, she was educated. That much was clear. She’d learned manners, decorum. And she was cultured even, with a fine accent and posture to match. But his marriage would elevate his status, the last piece that eluded him. And Penny Walters contributed nothing to that cause.
But thoughts of Clarissa crept in too. Despite her stature, she seemed a woman who could take care of herself. And yet, Penny had intimated that Clarissa had needed saving. Why?
Clarissa was as fierce as a woman came. He was certain of that. She wielded that poker like a sword.
Finally, as dawn crept into his room, he managed to fall asleep. But soon enough a rooster crowed from some rooftop in the distance and his eyes popped open again. He had a great deal to accomplish today.
After rising, he washed and dressed, leaving instructions for his note to be delivered to Daring as he had his horse saddled and ate a light meal. He needed to collect funds for Penny. That was first.
But he also needed to procure a gown for her, because while he’d insisted she didn’t need to come, Daring didn’t strike him as a man who compromised, and he was certain she’d be attending dinner with him.
Which meant a trip to the dressmaker. His eye was excellent and he was certain he could estimate her size well enough. He held out his hands and closed his eyes. Her waist looked to be about so and her hips…he snapped his gaze open again.
He’d deliver the gown and the money today, despite the appointment for the following day. Then he could inform her of the invitation and…see her again. Sooner rather than later.
As he made his way out to the stable, he stopped at the groundskeeper’s shed.
The man was already at work and Logan knocked on the wall, the door already ajar.
“Me lord.” The man turned around, surprise making his step falter. “What are ye doin’ here?”
Logan smiled at that. “I need a few tools and perhaps some advice. There’s a fence that needs repair and—”
“Fence?” The man’s shoulder snapped back. “Not here?”
“No,” Logan had to hide a smile. Fergus was excellent at keeping up the property. “A…friend.”
One of Fergus’ shaggy eyebrows shot up. “Friend? She must be pretty.”
“It’s not like that,” Logan answered quickly. He didn’t need to explain to his groundskeeper that a business deal hinged upon his relationship with Penny.
Though the fence was less about the deal and more about…his jaw clenched. A pretty lady.
Well, that wasn’t true. It was about a lady who needed help. And who helped others. And whose fence was in desperate need of repair. And he shouldn’t want to spend time with her but…well…he did. He reasoned that he’d also be figuring out what Daring was up to, but it was likely his time would be better spent hunting for a bride.
“Of course it isn’t.” Fergus gave a toothy grin. “It never is.” Then he began pulling tools down from the pegs on the wall. “You’ll need these. And I’ll show you how it’s done. You wouldn’t want your ugly gentleman thinking this is your first fence repair.”
Logan gave the other man a long stare. To think he’d be repairing some man’s fence was just ridiculous. “I’ll have you know it’s for an orphanage.”
Fergus straightened then, his gaze narrowing. “Why didn’t you say so? What else needs to be done?”
Penny sat in the front room with Natty on her lap as they carefully counted stacks of coins.
The girl was alarmingly good at the endeavor for being only five or six years old.
“If there are ten in this stack and five in that, how many do you have in total?” She softly stroked the girls head as Natty focused on the chips in front of her.
“Hmm.” Her little mouth pursed into a very serious line, her tiny fingers moving as she worked it out. Distantly, Penny heard the door open, but her concentration was fixed on Natty.
Her soft brown curls blew softly, tickling Penny’s nose.
The distinct pad of Clarissa’s bare feet caught her ear and the deeper clack of…boots.
She raised her head.
“Fifteen,” Natty sang out, pointing down at the coins. “Is that right, Miss Penny?”
“That’s right, my brilliantly beautiful girl.” She stroked the child’s hair even as Clarissa came into view, the Earl of Goldthwaite just behind her.
Her breath caught, and she clenched a fist at her side. She shouldn’t feel anything for this man. He was a lord,