“She would defend his abuse?”
“It is not as bad as you are thinking,” Aimée said, leading him around the side of the house, out of Howard’s sight. “It is only that she does not wish to think poorly of her son.”
“You give them too much credit.”
“They are my family.”
“They do not deserve your loyalty.”
His concern was seductive, more seductive even than his austerely handsome face or the warmth of his hand or the strength of his arm. She had never had a champion before. Or a confidant. There was no one at Moulton who understood, no one she could talk to.
“It was better when I first came here,” she said. “Howard was away at school then. Even now, he spends most of his time in Town.”
“He is Sir Walter’s heir. He must visit.”
“Not as often as his parents would wish. There is little here to hold his attention.”
Another assessing, sideways look. “Except you.”
She shrugged, uncomfortable with his admiration. If that’s what it was. “I can keep out of the way. Until he leaves again.”
“Or you could leave,” Lucien suggested.
Ah. He did not truly understand. He was a man, after all.
“And go where?” she asked. “I have no money, no family, no other acquaintance in England.”
“You have skills. You speak French. You play the piano—even if you will not play in company,” he added with a glint of humor. “You could seek employment.”
“As a governess.”
He nodded.
“I have no references.”
“You have experience.”
“Not enough to impress an employer.” She winced. “Particularly after today. You heard the Netherbys.”
“The Netherbys are fools.”
His support warmed her. But she said, “Susan was upset. Any mother would be.”
“Any other mother would not blame you for her own neglect. I know a woman in London who could find you a position if you wish it.”
Aimée snorted inelegantly. She could not let his interest blind her to reality. “I have heard of such women. They meet the stagecoaches, looking for poor dumb girls from the country. Me, I am not so stupid.”
“Not stupid at all. But Miss Grinton is completely legitimate, I assure you.”
“Maybe.” He meant well, she told herself. “Even if your Miss Grinton could help me—and I do not believe it is as easy as you think to find a position without references—I would only be exchanging one situation for another. I might find it harder to escape the attentions of an employer.”
She led him to a small side entrance. “You do not know what it is like to be without resources or defenses. At least here I have a family.” She turned her head to look up at him. “If I left, I would have nothing.”
Lucien regarded her upturned face in the shadow of the doorway. Conviction lent passion to her voice, passion and the faintest hint of accent, like the scent of wine or sun-warmed grapes. Her eyes were as blue as the vault of Heaven.
Her words stabbed him. You do not know what it is like to be without resources or defenses.
Lucien opened the door for her to get her out of the cold. To give himself time to think.