of land.
“It’s a building,” he stated.
Lady Regan glanced over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes. She pulled on the edge of her veil, covering her face, and tilted her chin up. Even through the black material, he could see her lush lips part in a smile.
“It is more than a building. It is a hospital.” Picking up her skirts, she skipped over a stray piece of timber. “Or, it will be soon.”
He followed the small figure of Lady Regan, her gently rounded hips swaying beneath the fine fabric of her frock.
Biting his lower lip, he forced himself to look away from the lush sight and up at the nearing monstrosity.
A hospital? Not ruddy likely. What doctors would come into Whitechapel? Only young men who wished to make a name for themselves and would use the poor as experiments for their new ideas. He’d seen it done. No one cared what happened to the damned.
Lady Regan strode over the ground stepping over bits of stone and equipment. She waved her umbrella at the building. “It will be modern and functional. And it will cost the people who need it most nothing for service.”
Jack snorted.
She stopped and turned around. Her blue eyes snapped beneath her swaying black veil. “What?”
Jack ignored the red wisps of hair floating free of her bonnet and falling about her pale skin. He didn’t want a ruddy argument. If he had to, he would humor her. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, it matters to me. Out with it.”
“I meant nothing, my lady.” Jack stared at her, fixing a blank gaze. A look that usually convinced nobles that he was incapable of their intellect.
She tapped her umbrella against her leg. “Do not trifle with me. You disapprove of something. I wish to know your opinions.”
Pausing, she cocked her head to the side, her veil swinging. “And Captain Hazard, I would not allow for the owner of a company such as yours to be run by someone with less intelligence than myself. Do not think that I am fooled by that look .”
Jack bit the inside of his cheek and suppressed a smile. Regan Chance was a cunning little thing despite her puritanical ways.
“If you insist,” he replied.
Pointing to the upper story of the hospital, he said, “This might help their physical ailments. But will it help their lot in life? Rich men throw money at the poor to salve their collective conscience, while in truth, they want the lower class to remain beneath their shining boots.”
Jack glanced away, focusing on the scaffolding behind her. He and Devlin had grown up in a charitable home for orphans. It, too, had been owned by a Chance. It had been a glorified workhouse. . . That then sold them to the military once they’d grown too big to do intricate work. Drawing in a calming breath, Jack lowered his gaze to Lady Regan’s veiled face. “Most are not interested in changing the station of the poor. They fear a Republic.”
Lowering his hand, he waited for her to rise in indignation.
Slowly, Regan stepped towards him, her skirts brushing his boots. She looked up into his eyes and lifted her veil from her face. A smile curved her lips. “What a marvelous speech, sir. You should run for politics.”
It was clear. She found him fascinating like some foreign animal in a zoo. God, she was such a beautiful woman. Not to mention the fact she was an interesting woman who turned her black cotton, the color of mourning, into the color of sin. As he looked on her cheeky grin and slightly parted lips, the muscles of his groin tightened. Heat rushed from his brain straight to his cock, and he adjusted the folds of his long coat to hide the hardness in his trousers. A hardness he didn’t want her to see. At least not yet.
Her eyes glowed with a wicked cleverness. “And I agree that the rich wish to keep the poor low.” She turned and strode off towards the steps of the hospital, adding over her shoulder, “That is why I am also building two schools.”
Jack blinked. The bleeding woman agreed? Agreed that the
“It’s a building,” he stated.
Lady Regan glanced over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes. She pulled on the edge of her veil, covering her face, and tilted her chin up. Even through the black material, he could see her lush lips part in a smile.
“It is more than a building. It is a hospital.” Picking up her skirts, she skipped over a stray piece of timber. “Or, it will be soon.”
He followed the small figure of Lady Regan, her gently rounded hips swaying beneath the fine fabric of her frock.
Biting his lower lip, he forced himself to look away from the lush sight and up at the nearing monstrosity.
A hospital? Not ruddy likely. What doctors would come into Whitechapel? Only young men who wished to make a name for themselves and would use the poor as experiments for their new ideas. He’d seen it done. No one cared what happened to the damned.
Lady Regan strode over the ground stepping over bits of stone and equipment. She waved her umbrella at the building. “It will be modern and functional. And it will cost the people who need it most nothing for service.”
Jack snorted.
She stopped and turned around. Her blue eyes snapped beneath her swaying black veil. “What?”
Jack ignored the red wisps of hair floating free of her bonnet and falling about her pale skin. He didn’t want a ruddy argument. If he had to, he would humor her. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, it matters to me. Out with it.”
“I meant nothing, my lady.” Jack stared at her, fixing a blank gaze. A look that usually convinced nobles that he was incapable of their intellect.
She tapped her umbrella against her leg. “Do not trifle with me. You disapprove of something. I wish to know your opinions.”
Pausing, she cocked her head to the side, her veil swinging. “And Captain Hazard, I would not allow for the owner of a company such as yours to be run by someone with less intelligence than myself. Do not think that I am fooled by that look .”
Jack bit the inside of his cheek and suppressed a smile. Regan Chance was a cunning little thing despite her puritanical ways.
“If you insist,” he replied.
Pointing to the upper story of the hospital, he said, “This might help their physical ailments. But will it help their lot in life? Rich men throw money at the poor to salve their collective conscience, while in truth, they want the lower class to remain beneath their shining boots.”
Jack glanced away, focusing on the scaffolding behind her. He and Devlin had grown up in a charitable home for orphans. It, too, had been owned by a Chance. It had been a glorified workhouse. . . That then sold them to the military once they’d grown too big to do intricate work. Drawing in a calming breath, Jack lowered his gaze to Lady Regan’s veiled face. “Most are not interested in changing the station of the poor. They fear a Republic.”
Lowering his hand, he waited for her to rise in indignation.
Slowly, Regan stepped towards him, her skirts brushing his boots. She looked up into his eyes and lifted her veil from her face. A smile curved her lips. “What a marvelous speech, sir. You should run for politics.”
It was clear. She found him fascinating like some foreign animal in a zoo. God, she was such a beautiful woman. Not to mention the fact she was an interesting woman who turned her black cotton, the color of mourning, into the color of sin. As he looked on her cheeky grin and slightly parted lips, the muscles of his groin tightened. Heat rushed from his brain straight to his cock, and he adjusted the folds of his long coat to hide the hardness in his trousers. A hardness he didn’t want her to see. At least not yet.
Her eyes glowed with a wicked cleverness. “And I agree that the rich wish to keep the poor low.” She turned and strode off towards the steps of the hospital, adding over her shoulder, “That is why I am also building two schools.”
Jack blinked. The bleeding woman agreed? Agreed that the
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