“Never again, I tell you.” Her father’s voice was full of irritation.
“I will see to it personally, my lord,” Greyson replied with solemnity.
Papa looked up as she entered the room. The butler bowed and took his leave. Both were obviously displeased with her. Greyson would never show it, but there was a certain additional stiffness in his bearing that she had learned over the years meant he was cross. Papa scowled. She had a feeling she knew the topic of their little conference.
“You arranged the menu for tonight’s gathering, didn’t you, Helena?”
She smiled. “Yes. If you recall, Mama asked for my assistance because she and Penelope had to go out today.”
“Then it was you who arranged for the serving of oysters?”
“Guilty.”
Papa gave a sigh that reeked of disappointment. “You’ll have us living in a Dickens novel.”
“Oh, Papa, you exaggerate. They were served chilled and on the half shell, not pickled or in a beef pie.” He despised being reminded of how there were others less fortunate than they, especially in his own home.
“Any oyster is a bit too close to the rookery for me.” He shifted beneath his coat somehow, his throat bobbing as he took a sip of his champagne as if to clean the taste of the word from his palate.
“Times are changing. Many hostesses serve oysters now. They are delicious.”
Ordering the shellfish had been meant to irritate him, because she took any opportunity to remind him that there were others in the world outside of their class. If the presence of an oyster would make him take a moment to consider the many poor in London who had lived on oysters and gruel for decades, then she would serve them when she could. He was a renowned speaker in the House of Lords. A man in his position needed to understand the lives that he held in his power.
“Not in my home again, Helena.”
“Fine. I didn’t come to talk about the appropriateness of oysters on a dinner table.” She hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. Now that she planned to confront him, she almost didn’t want to hear him say her suspicion was true. “I wanted to ask you about something Lady Blaylock said.”
“Yes?” He gave her a pointed look from behind the spectacles perched on the end of his nose.
She licked her lips. Why was this so difficult? She clenched her hands in the folds of her skirt to hide how her palms were sweating. “Donations for the London Home for Young Women have not been promising of late. Have you, perchance, said something to your associates?”
“Only the truth, as you are well aware. It is unseemly for you to associate with such people.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he raised a hand. “I am not forbidding you from such a folly. God knows that it would do no good. I am merely stating a fact. Haven’t you noticed how many have been willing to support your orphanage but not your home for those women?”
“Well, yes, that’s why I’ve come to talk with you.” Most of the orphanage’s board members had politely refused to collaborate on the new project, even though they had seen the need for it with their own eyes. The few who had joined with her on the endeavor had been largely unsuccessful in sourcing donations from their close friends and family. Not many were willing to be associated with unmarried women having children, not even the men who fathered those children. If not for Leigh’s—Christian’s, Violet always corrected her when she referred to him more formally—recent generosity, they would not be in the process of searching for a suitable building.
He nodded. “And I’ve been informed of your trips into St. Giles.”
“Papa—”
“That slum is home to all manner of vice and ill character. I do not want you going back there.”
“Who told you about that?”
“I know everything that goes on in Parliament. Do you assume that I don’t know what goes on with my own children?”
“Sometimes it is necessary. Most of the women are from St. Giles, and we are called upon from time to time to go there. I never go alone.”
“I should hope not, but it doesn’t change the fact that your behavior with this endeavor is quite too much. If I have shared my concern with close associates, then it is nothing more than what any other father would do when presented with concerns of safety for his daughter.”
The only problem was that his influence extended far beyond that of most fathers. His associates wouldn’t want to cross him, not when he had the power to refuse favors. She didn’t like it, but she had her answer. The donations were dwindling because of him. It was no less than she had suspected, but the knowledge still chaffed. “But I am safe, Papa, and I am not being harmfully influenced by these women. What can I do to convince you of that?”
He sighed. “You could do with a husband, Helena.”
“We have had this discussion before, and I have made my feelings on this matter very clear.” Marriage had been at the forefront of her parents’ thoughts from the day she turned fifteen until the day she was married at nineteen. After her husband’s premature death, they had waited a year before subtly bringing up the subject again, though the subtlety had disintegrated in the four years she’d been out of mourning. “I will marry someday.” She wouldn’t. “But my hands are full with the orphanage and now with the London Home for Young Women.” He cleared his throat in obvious displeasure. The silk of her gown seemed to cling to her chest. Tucking a fingertip discreetly into the neckline, she gave the fabric a tug. “I hardly have time to consider a courtship, much less all that would come after.”
“That place”—he said the word with meaning—“is precisely why we must consider a marriage.”
“There is nothing to consider.” Her attempt at keeping her voice light was failing. Even she could hear the thread of steel that had made its way into her words.
Papa’s face did not change, but something about his demeanor hardened. “A husband would be accountable for you and, if he’s sensible, not allow you to go at all. I cannot be responsible for this behavior.”
A hot flush rushed to her face. “Of course not. I can be responsible for myself. In fact, my dower has seen to that.”
“I am not discussing money with you, of which I believe you are very much aware. I am discussing your safety and the responsibility of a husband to provide that for a wife.”
“I have seen to that myself. We have security, Papa, and I have traveled with them the few times I’ve had to venture into an unsafe area. I am not foolish.”
“No, you are not. Of all my daughters, you are least likely to give in to hysterics.”
Helena ground her molars. She had two younger sisters, and not one of them had ever given in to a case of hysterics. “Then you understand that whether I have a husband or not—”