Free No Place for a Lady by Jade Lee

true power. To take in a child and sponsor her as his own would have been disastrous. Everyone would have known she was his bastard. The scandal could have destroyed his career.
    Penworthy sighed again, the sound coming from deep within. "I sent her to a school under a fictional name and family. I knew the headmistress there would turn a lenient eye on Fantine's less polished attributes."
    "And?"
    Penworthy looked dolefully down into his empty glass. "She hated it. Think on it. She had lived on her own for two years. Probably making life-and-death choices every day. To expect her to quietly settle into the life of a pampered miss was too much."
    "She ran away?"
    "And right back to the rookeries."
    Marcus shook his head. He understood the transition would have been difficult. But if she could have managed it, she could have had a decent marriage, a safe home, children, everything a woman wanted. Instead, she chose a dangerous existence, rife with poverty and crime.
    "Do not judge her too harshly," said Penworthy softly. "Even you who were born to your position chafe at the constant restrictions. You cannot expect her to leap into a life more claustrophobic than your own."
    Marcus sighed, acknowledging the truth. Still... "You must offer it again."
    "I did. I have. Every way I can think of. But no lock holds her. No school could keep her. Always she returned to the world she knew and nothing I did swayed her." He paused, and again Penworthy seemed to carry the world upon his shoulders. "I give her what money she will take. I pay her generously for information. I do whatever she asks. I have even offered to acknowledge her as my own, but she is very proud. Like her mother. And, she distrusts the peerage. Even me."
    Marcus did not doubt it. "Anyone raised in a greenroom would see the worst the aristocracy has to offer." Vice and debauchery ran rampant in the backstage world of an actress. "Still—" he began, only to be interrupted by his mentor.
    "That is why I forced you to work with her. You must help me. There is no one else I trust more than you."
    Marcus looked up to see Penworthy's brilliant eyes pinned on him, begging him for assistance. "Anything," he answered without thought.
    "I cannot die with her on my conscience."
    Penworthy's words echoed in the still library, chilling Marcus's bones even as his thoughts whirled. He wanted to deny his friend's illness, but they both knew the truth. Penworthy might not see another Christmas. But how did one help someone who did not seem to want or need help? Especially a woman as recalcitrant, spirited, and beautiful as Fantine?
    In the end, he was saved from commenting. Before he could begin to frame his thoughts, the door burst open and once again candle wax splattered across the papers on Penworthy's desk.
    "I knew I would find you gentlemen in here, steeped in brandy no doubt," called Fantine in her cultured voice.
    Marcus turned, mentally steeling himself to see her in some new outrageous attire. He was not disappointed.
    She wore a demure gray gown, so high in the collar it nearly covered her mouth. It was almost colorless, and its very blandness made the sparkle in her bronze eyes, the dark bow of her lips, and the rosy flush to her cheeks all the more vivid. Why, even the shapeless gown seemed to take on her curves at the most tantalizing moments, making her the visual fulfillment of any schoolboy's most lurid fantasies.
    But that was not the worst. No, the absolute most horrible shock was that she entered the room on the arm of one of the most powerful gentlemen in the world: William Wilberforce.
    Marcus was hard pressed to restrain his groan.
    "Good afternoon, William," said Penworthy as he gained his feet. "Do come in."
    Marcus was quick to follow, vacating his chair for the lame Wilberforce. The man nodded congenially, his dusky white hair whisper thin as he pushed his crippled form forward. Fantine remained by his side, no doubt ready to assist if the elderly man should