Earl of Gold (Lords of Scandal #7) - Tammy Andresen Page 0,6

every handsome line of his face.

The Earl of Goldthwaite.

He was nothing like who she’d been expecting. His features were gorgeous with a square jaw, blond hair, and piercing golden eyes. But he had all the warmth of marble.

His broad shoulders flexed as he pushed off the door jamb. “Three thousand pounds and a plaque?” He scratched his chin. “Very well. You’ve got a deal.”

A rush of pleasure coursed through her. While the donation was not what she’d hoped, that sum would sustain them for two or even three years. Maybe more if she stretched. They needed a new home, of course. And she wouldn’t be able to buy one with this sum. But they’d eat and they’d have clothes. The house would just have to wait.

It wasn’t just the space. More and more fine streets of London were moving the lower classes out and pressing them together into the East End. The neighborhood was changing, growing rougher.

Penny flexed her hands. That was a problem for another day. At least they’d eat and be warm. There was plenty of time to find other benefactors that would allow her to purchase a larger facility.

The very idea made her exhausted. It was so hard to navigate this world on her own but a single thought of the four girls depending on her and she straightened her shoulders. They didn’t deserve to stand in perfectly straight lines with whip marks on the back of their legs as correction.

That was what she offered. A real life for them and a real home. Like she’d had as a young child. It had been ripped from her of course, and part of her yearned to have that life back, but at least she had her memories of a loving family and a real home. And she’d give that to these girls no matter how hard it was.

She stretched out her hand once more. Would he refuse to shake it again? Her breath caught as he tentatively reached out. He’d already removed his gloves and his skin slid against the fabric covering hers, which sent an unexpected shiver racing down her back. His hand was strong, but his fingers were elegant, and they made her stomach flutter in the strangest way.

“Thank you, my lord.” Heat filled her cheeks and she looked to the side at an overstuffed chair rather than at him.

“I’ll have to collect the funds. Shall we meet here the day after tomorrow, say ten in the morning?”

She gave a curt nod, disappointment making her breath stall. She didn’t relish another day wasted in waiting. “Perhaps you could leave the funds with Mr. Winter just in case you’re not here.”

He chuckled then, low and deep. “So you weren’t happy about waiting after all.”

She blinked, her gaze snapping back to his, which might have been a mistake, his eyes seemed to see straight into her. She had the feeling of being exposed and she visibly shifted this time. “Would you be?” she asked by way of response. She’d been furious. But she’d learned a long time ago that persistence was her best ally. The few donations she’d managed to obtain from other members of the peerage or from successful merchants had come from calm persistence and incessant smiling, and so she’d quelled her anger and settled in to wait. The first few hours had been rather nice.

The walk had been long, and her life was rather busy, so resting here on his exceptionally comfortable furniture had been a welcome change. But as the hours had stretched, she knew Clarissa was bound to be worried. And she dreaded the return walk home. The East End of London was no place for a woman to travel alone at night.

She’d liked to have vented her frustration the way he had. But that never got her anywhere. So she’d held it in.

“No. I wouldn’t have been happy at all,” he said. “Which is why I would have left and made another appointment on a different day.”

Ah. No wonder he seemed so irritated. He didn’t like that she’d waited. He’d obviously never gone hungry. If he had, he might have understood her urgency. “We had an appointment.” She pointed a finger at him, her brows going up. She didn’t like arguing as a general rule, but she also needed this man’s respect. He’d agreed to a one-time donation, but if he valued her, she might be able to get another. “I assumed you’d be here in a reasonable amount of time.”

“Didn’t it