Free A Lady of High Regard by Tracie Peterson Page B

debt collector. Oh, for certain the law would not advocate rape, but taking a person to indenture is not that uncommon. I’m afraid the legal courts would look the other way, even if there were reasons to call it into question. My guess is the same might happen with the charges of rape. The pure and simple truth is no one cares about the poor.”
    “I care,” Garrett said, slamming his hands onto Rodney’s desk. “I care, and I won’t see it continue because of ignorance. It doesn’t make it right, just because I don’t know about it. I won’t have the Wilson name sullied by such practices.”
    “Calm down, Garrett. I’m not the enemy here. I completely concur with you. I do not advocate the things you’ve spoken of here today. I am merely stating the sad truth of the matter. Do you realize how many poor and homeless go missing every day? The numbers are quite high. Many die of sickness and exposure, and little is done. I have on occasion seen the indigent dying on the streets, with no one to even see them taken to a hospital or other means of care. When epidemics strike, it is always the poor who suffer the greatest loss—yet their numbers are often inaccurately counted. You cannot count what you will not acknowledge even exists.”
    “But these are wives and children of wage-earning men. Certainly working a ship is still an honorable way of making a living. The situation presents itself because the men are long gone from home. These women need a protector—a champion— and I mean to be that man if no one else will rally to the cause.”
    Rodney sat back and folded his hands at his waist. “You cannot change the world, Garrett.”
    “Maybe not, but perhaps I can change Philadelphia.”
    “Garrett, the world is indifferent to those of little means. People care not what happens to the poor because they have nothing to offer the world but their poverty and pain—two things that most everyone would just as soon forget exist.”
    “Just as they wish they could forget that the poor exist.”
    “Exactly. I wish I could offer you better counsel on this issue, but the truth is as it always has been: The poor will always be with us.”
    Those words haunted Garrett as he rode his black gelding through town. He had said that very thing to Mia. How hollow and empty the statement was as it resounded through his troubled heart and head. No wonder Mia had resented his attitude—he resented it himself. He’d only said those things because the very thought of Mia being injured or placing herself in danger was more than he could bear. He would never forgive himself if harm came to her. Especially if he might have prevented it.
    He left his horse with a groomsman and walked to the backyard garden, where Agnes and Bliss were happily playing with their dolls. When they spied Garrett, they ran to greet their big brother.
    “Did you bring us a present?” Bliss asked as she threw herself through the air and into Garrett’s arms. He lifted her high in the air before tickling her. She giggled and squealed in delight.
    Agnes watched in frustration, but Garrett wasn’t about to leave her out. “Miss Agnes, why don’t you reach into my coat pocket and see if I don’t have a surprise for you.”
    “I want to look in your pocket,” Bliss complained as her sister searched.
    “You are my captive. You attacked me, and I am holding you hostage,” Garrett said, laughing as he kept Bliss high in the air. His arms ached from the way she squirmed and tried to break free, but he held her fast.
    Bliss giggled. “You are too strong.”
    “Peppermint sticks!” Agnes exclaimed in delight.
    “One for you,” Garrett told her, then gently lowering Bliss, he set her upon the ground and added, “and one for you.”
    Agnes gave him a curtsy before handing a stick of candy to her sister. “Thank you.”
    “You don’t have to curtsy when you get candy,” Bliss declared. She grinned up at her brother. “I liked being up so high. I