Miss Bronson shook her head, her brunette curls swaying as her brown eyes widened. “This is my first time, and I’m quite certain my mother wouldn’t approve, but my father is actually the one who suggested I attend. He’s forward-thinking.”

“How lovely! What a blessing. Does that put him at odds with your mother, however?”

Miss Bronson grinned. “Only if she finds out.”

Joan giggled. “I see. Then I suppose it’s best if she does not.”

“Indeed.” The young woman grasped her skirt nervously. “I overheard a little of the conversation between you and Mrs. Bookman. If I may be so bold, would you mind if I accompanied you? I’d love to help in any way I can.”

“Of course, I’m sure they can use all the help they can get. I was planning on sending a missive to the contact Sandra gave me this afternoon. I can send a message to you when I find out what’s needed. Or would that not be good since you’re trying to keep this from your mother?”

Miss Bronson twisted her lips. “That could be a problem. However, since it is the Foundling Hospital, I can say I’m volunteering, not how I came about volunteering. Perhaps that will solve the problem.”

“Brilliant.” Joan said her goodbyes to the rest of the ladies and proceeded to her carriage. But as she started on her way home, her chest grew tight and her mind uneasy as she considered her voiced opinions at the meeting and how they correlated with her earlier conversation with the Duke of Westmore.

The rain started to fall in gentle drips that slid down the glass of the carriage, adding to her melancholy mood. The next social event was on Friday, and thus several days away, and unless the duke paid a social visit, she would be carrying this troublesome burden of irritation along with her for the next few days. Assuming he’d even noticed, or cared, that she had been put out with his words.

Frustration clenched her belly as she realized how this was another constraint on women in society. If she were given the same social latitude as a man, she could direct her carriage to his residence, seek an audience with him, and have a civil conversation.

But because she was an unmarried woman, she had to wait on his leisure or inclination to remedy the rift.

Again, assuming he noticed or cared.

She wanted him to care.

She tipped her head to the side as she considered that truth. She wanted the Duke of Westmore to care, to think highly of her opinions and thoughts, to…favor them. It was a sobering realization, and in her current frame of mind, she further considered if this was also a societal constraint on women.

Or if this was something more.

Like falling in love.

And if so, that put her at a far greater disadvantage.