Kenneth sighed, a sense of responsibility weighing on him. He should have followed up with Lord Carlisle, but instead, he’d allowed his entanglement with Joanna to divert his attention. And these last few days, he hadn’t worried about any of this but instead focused on himself and his fears. Meanwhile, the children had suffered. How could this have happened? Certainly, not all the donors had suddenly decided to stop supporting the orphanage.
Or had they because he’d snatched Joanna away from Lord Worcester?
Had Lord Worcester started a campaign for revenge? All this time, Kenneth had focused on Joanna’s father, but what if this was all because of someone else?
He rubbed his chin. “Mrs. Hardy, may I see the ledger? I’d like to see who donates and how much so I might speak to them directly.”
“Certainly,” Mrs. Hardy said and slid the heavy ledger toward him.
Perhaps if he got all the names of the various donors and saw how much they actually gave, he might see a pattern. And hadn’t Lord Carlisle said that there were issues with pledges being made and not deposited?
Something was going on here, and Kenneth had to find out exactly what and who was at fault. He went through the ledger for the better part of an hour and realized one thing—Lord Carlisle’s claim that pledges were not being followed up on was not true. A total of fifteen noblemen and members of the gentry donated monthly. Many of their donations were directed, as Mrs. Hardy had said, and paid for specific items.
Other donations—most of them smaller—went to a general fund which was used to cover budget shortfalls. A larger fund was meant to pay for the construction of the new schoolhouse, although he had not seen many donations listed for it.
Mrs. Hardy kept an excellent record of what was donated, when, and by whom, and the donations had indeed stopped coming in over the past few weeks.
“Mrs. Hardy, do you have the records for the schoolhouse fund? There is not much listened here.”
Mrs. Hardy shook her head. “I do not. Lord Carlisle takes that to the bank right away, although a man came last month to inspect the site.”
Kenneth nodded and then flipped the page. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide, and he sat upright. Among the names of the generous donors, one stood out. A name he had not previously seen and which inspired a myriad of feelings within him—Lord Barring, the heir to the very marquessate where the tragic fire had claimed his brother’s life.
Mrs. Hardy watched him closely. “Is there something amiss, Your Grace?”
Kenneth hesitated for a moment, torn between his duty to the orphanage and the ghosts of his past. “Lord Barring… he’s a new donor, isn’t he?”
Mrs. Hardy nodded, her expression grave. “Indeed, he is. Lord Hasberg used to pay for the groceries we needed. He had accounts at the butchers, the greengrocers, and so forth. He’d pay whatever was bought on credit, but he passed away three months ago. Lord Barring stepped in, and for two months, he paid generously. Then, nothing was paid.”
Kenneth took a deep breath, the smell of chicken broth filling the air. “He pays the vendors directly? Like Lord Hasberg used to?”
“I do not think so,” Mrs. Hardy replied. “Lately, Lord Carlisle thought it best that all donations are managed by him, with the rest of the smaller donations going into the schoolhouse fund. I thought our prior system was better, but he disagreed. Your Grace, what will you do?” Hope and fear tinged her words.
Kenneth closed his eyes. He knew what he had to do. He had to speak to these men and find out what had happened. And Lord Barring would be the first one he had to call on—a thought that made him want to crawl back into his bed. But he knew he could not. He had to help the children.
“I’ll speak to Lord Barring directly. Perhaps he can shed light on this matter. I’ll speak to the others, too. In the meantime, I will pay the outstanding bills and ensure the orphanage has what it needs. Send for the physician for the ill children and tell him that I will pay him directly.”
“I cannot thank you enough, Your Grace. What the papers said is true. You are truly a prince.” She patted his hand, and he forced a smile, although it didn’t reach his eyes.
This was, in part, his fault. He’d known there were problems, but he’d let it go for selfish reasons, and now the children were paying the price.
CHAPTER 22
Joanna sat on a low stool and watched as the children divvied up sweets among themselves. She smiled, knowing that Kenneth had brought them. The goodness of his heart and the solidity of his character were evident, even if he insisted on thinking badly about himself.
She glanced at the kitchen door once more, where Peter had told her Kenneth had headed some time ago. Then, her gaze wandered around the great hall, where some of the children were congregated. Usually, the atmosphere was warm and joyful, but today hardly any children played. It was too cold and dreary, and if Peter was right, hunger had surely played a part.
Well, she would see to that shortly. She’d most certainly not?—
“Your Grace!” Peter bellowed and leaped to his feet.
Joanna turned around, but the moment her eyes met Kenneth’s, her stomach sank. He looked furious. His eyes were narrowed,a deep line had appeared on his forehead, and his hands were curled into fists. Whatever he’d uncovered about the sudden dreadful condition of the orphanage had clearly upset up.
She made her way to him and dropped her voice. “Kenneth, I can’t believe the orphanage is in such a terrible state. The poor children, I feel awful for them. It is outrageous. What is the matter with these men?”
Kenneth’s eyes betrayed his simmering anger as he surveyed the dire conditions. “It’s my fault, Joanna,” he admitted, his voice heavy. “I’ve been neglecting the orphanage, caught up in our fake courtship and everything that transpired since. I knew there were problems here, but I let it slip to the back of my mind.”
Joanna bit her lip. His words felt as if he were chiding her, although she understood that they were tinged with shock at finding the orphanage without enough firewood, food, or medicine. Still, she could not deny that his words rang true.