Betina Krahn Read Online Free Page B

the floor between their feet.
    Hardwell’s response was to stick his head out the window and shout: “Go away—d’you hear?”
    “If she will only”—the fellow panted, clapping one hand over his jiggling bowler and rescuing his spectacles with the other—“
listen
to my proposal …”
    “Miss Wingate is not acceptin’ any more blessed proposals!” Hardwell struggled briefly to raise the stubborn window glass, then abandoned it to thump the roof of the coach with his fist, signaling their driver to go faster. The petitioner matched the coach’s quickening pace for only a few more strides.
    “Miss Wingate!” His strained voice began to fade. “You’re my last hope!”
    Diamond turned to look through the oval rear window at the fellow’s spent and doubled figure disappearing into the dust. When he was no longer visible, she sank back into her seat and smoothed her skirts again, finding her roused feelings harder to settle.
    The plaintive edge in the man’s voice—in all those disappointed voices—permeated her thoughts until it seemed to echo through every chamber of her heart. “… 
my last hope
 …” The sight of his heroic effort refused to fade from her mind. He was one of many, so many, who were desperate for help. And she always seemed to be their last hope.
    Why was it that she was never anybody’s
first
hope or
best
hope?
    She knew the answer, had known it for a long time. It seemed to be her destiny in life to be a safety net for others, especially those on society’s leading and trailing edges. Why else would she have been saddled with such a huge fortune, unearned and undesired?
    She looked up to find her former guardian watching her troubled expression through narrowed eyes.
    “I could have at least listened to him,” she said.
    “Motorized steps.” Humphrey snorted. “Of all the silly—you just got finished givin’ away thousands of dollars to fools like him.”
    “Invested,” she corrected. “And I could have invested thousands more.”
    Hardwell stared intently at her, then threw up his hands and gave a huff of exasperation. “You can’t fix the whole world, you know.”
    “I’m not trying to fix the whole world.” She lifted her chin. “I’m only trying to make the world a little better … doing what I know to be right … what I was
raised
to do.”
    Hardwell reddened and grumbled wordlessly before sinking back against the seat and crossing his arms. She had him there and they both knew it.
    Hardwell Humphrey and his wife, Hannah, had to take much of the blame for Diamond’s excesses of generosity. They had been appointed her guardians upon her father’s untimely death, eleven years ago, and—having had no children of their own—did their best to raise Diamond in accordance with what they believed to be a proper Christian upbringing. To see that she wasn’t spoiled and made selfish by the luxury around her, they exposed her to the needy of the world and instructed her in the grave responsibility that accompanied her wealth.
    Their efforts were richly rewarded. From her earliest days with them, she showed a remarkable aptitude for compassion and philanthropy. She eagerly gave money, food, and clothing to whoever asked and understood, at an exceptionally young age, the idea that helping people to make their own way in the world was infinitely more desirable than just giving them handouts. By her sixteenthbirthday she had already helped to start several new businesses and charities through personal donations and unsecured loans.
    But as she neared the fateful age of eighteen, her generosity had developed a worrisome notoriety and Hardwell and Hannah began to suspect that they might have overdone the “take-off-thy-cloak-and-give-it-to-them” aspects of her training. Hoping to remedy their miscalculation and prepare her for the life she would lead in Baltimore’s highest society, they approached the wife of one of Baltimore’s leading financiers for help.