at her. Blushing, she looked back at his sister. “There, I do listen to you on some things.”
Frances sipped her tea. “I’d be delighted to help.”
“We hope to include a school for young ladies as well.” Nicola leaned forward eagerly, excited to share her plans. “The school will instruct young ladies in all manner of household duties, as well as some refinement. But I want to stress the importance of making these girls adaptable to all situations...” She paused as Nathaniel left the window.
“Mr Belfroy’s wealth must be beyond anyone’s imagining for him to fund such ventures.”
Nicola lifted her chin. “No, you are quite wrong, Mr West. We are hoping to become a charity. With donations and patrons, we shall be in the position to help more people than just governesses.”
“What changed your mind, Nicola?” Frances placed her teacup on the tray. “Once you would have rejected such a notion.”
“I was never against helping those less fortunate, Frances, but governesses also need to be cared for. We cannot forget them. However, with Mr Belfroy’s generosity in providing the house and having extra land to build on, we can do more. An orphanage will be beneficial to both causes, the children can be taught by the governesses awaiting situations.”
Nathaniel took a sip from his teacup. “Tell me, Miss Douglas, are the governesses under your care allowed to…shall we say…dally with the opposite sex?”
“Nat!” Frances snapped.
Nicola raised an eyebrow, giving him one of her cold looks. She knew he was referring to seeing her last night with Mr Warner. “We are not in a prison, sir. The women stay here at their own will and have such freedom as they desire.”
“Perhaps they misuse such freedom? And what of the Home’s reputation? Women of easy virtue wouldn’t attract the money needed from wealthy patrons. The scandals will—”
“We have no women of easy virtue here, sir.”
“I believe you have a woman staying here who is in the delicate state of being with child and is not married.”
“Her trust was abused and she was ill-treated by a man who promised her marriage. Her situation was—”
“And she isn’t the first, is she? What does that tell you?”
Nicola tightened her grip on her saucer, wishing she could fling the object into West’s gloating face. Why did he alter his manners so much? One minute he was adoring, and the next finding fault and rude. “I—”
Frances leaned forward. “You don’t have to explain, Nicola.” She gave her brother an icy stare. “Why do you, Nat of all people, make such an issue of this? You know what happens, how it happens. Nicola and Mr Belfroy are providing a place for these women, something I am unable to do despite my best efforts. Why do you attack her for it?”
“I am merely stating the fact that donations and patrons will depend on your reputation here. Is this a house for fallen women or for unemployed governesses?” Nathaniel placed his teacup down on a nearby table, his gaze never leaving Nicola.
“I can assure you, Mr West, our reputation here will be above reproach. No patron will regret being involved.”
“Then perhaps I should become one?” He gave her a secret smile. “Will I be your first or has another beaten me to it?”
Her heart seemed to somersault in her chest at his meaning. “Any donation will be gratefully received, Mr West, and you are most welcome to be one of our patrons, but no, you won’t be the first.” Let him make of that what he will, she was beyond caring.
Nathaniel’s hands clenched by his side, his eyes narrowed with barely concealed hostility. “I think it is time we left, Frances. I have appointments.”
“Yes, very well.” Frances rose, looking from Nicola to her brother and back. “I will see you again soon, Nicola?”
“Certainly, Frances. You are welcome to call any time.” Nicola rose and turned her back on Nathaniel. Hateful man.
Chapter Twelve
Nicola stared out over the water at the boats gently riding at anchor. On this warm afternoon at the beginning of November the Domain was busy with families picnicking on the grass and listening to the brass band playing. Couples strolled, children played, dogs barked. She sauntered with Mr Warner, while Meg and the captain lagged behind, eating fruit tarts bought from a stall on the edge of the parkland. For the last few weeks the four of them had developed the habit to walk each Saturday afternoon in the Domain.
“What game is that, Miss Douglas, is it cricket?” Warner