Earl of Gold (Lords of Scandal #7) - Tammy Andresen Page 0,8

into their lives.

Logan didn’t need to escort Miss Penny Walters home. He could have sent her in his carriage and started on the mountain of work that never seemed to end.

But she was a pretty mystery that he wished to unravel.

He shouldn’t.

He should forget all about her and continue on with his orderly life. What did it matter why Daring put her in his path? He’d already cleared her as an obstacle to his goal.

And he rarely dallied with women. They wanted things. Expensive things like necklaces and dresses and, apparently, donations for orphans, and then they wished for even pricier items like his heart. He never gave that away. Ever.

The only person he’d ever loved had left him stranded and ruined without even a whisper of goodbye.

He’d marry, of course. Logan had worked damned hard to raise his title back up into good standing. He’d marry a debutante from an impeccable family. Use his wealth as the leverage that would gain him the perfect match and once and for all restore his family’s name.

Earl of Gold was the insult he heard with his own ears. They’d called his father that too but only because the man had spent every single shilling that wasn’t entailed. He’d run them into the poorhouse so that no lord or lady would associate with his family. His father had even attempted to marry a second time to save his financial future. But he’d gotten himself killed in a duel over a gambling debt before he’d been successful.

Hadn’t done a single thing right, the former Earl of Goldthwaite. Logan straightened in his seat. Just thinking about his father’s failures made him clench with shame.

But he knew what else the ton whispered about him. The insults he couldn’t hear. Heartless, consumed with the need for money. As single-minded as his father.

Penny brushed her skirts as she stared determinedly out the window of the carriage. She’d neither looked at him or spoken since they’d entered the dim interior, which did little to quell his curiosity.

“So tell me, Miss Walters. How many orphans do you currently house?”

She flexed her hands in her lap. A subtle gesture. What did it mean? Did his question make her nervous? “Four.”

“That’s it?” He raised a brow, crossing his ankles as he stretched out. “With your tenacity, I thought it would be more.”

She looked at him then, a cool smile touching her lips. “With a larger donation, more orphans could be possible.”

His eyes widened just a bit. She was good. Reminded him of himself. “Touché.” He cleared his throat. “So lack of funds is holding you back.”

She gave a curt nod. “And space. Which, of course, takes more money.”

“Is this your life’s work? I only ask because you still go by Miss Walters. Normally a school mistress or housekeeper would have changed to Missus even if she wasn’t married, to indicate her position.”

She shrugged. He liked the shape of her shoulders, delicate yet held in perfectly straight lines. He saw the way her face flinched at the question, her shoulders hunching just a bit. “I fell into this life quite by accident. Clarissa, my first orphan, came to me when I least expected it. I only knew that I couldn’t leave a girl with her spirit where she was. But the more time that passes, the more I realize that children, like myself, need someone to look out for them.”

“Like yourself?” His ankles came undone and he sat straighter. Had she been an orphan too? The realization almost made him miss the fact that she hadn’t actually answered the question. Why was she still Miss Walters?

She twisted her hands again. “My parents died when I was twelve.”

His stomach dropped. How terrible. “Of?” he knew he was prying but curiosity had won out. Daring had sent a beautiful woman right to Logan’s door. Had Daring known she was this pretty? Had he done it on purpose to test Logan in some way? The man was forcing Logan to help this stunning creature and find business partners. Two tasks he’d avoided like the plague up until now. It was almost as though the duke had a hidden agenda.

Damn the man. He was worse than a meddling woman.

And Logan had found that understanding what motivated people always meant that he himself was more successful.

“A disease of the lung. My father was a doctor,” she said, her voice catching.

He flexed his fingers, noting that her father had also given himself in the service of others. And while