Ascending the stairs to the art studio took longer than anticipated. Every inch of the wall was covered in framed canvases. The variety of styles, signatures, and skill levels indicated these works were likely created by Marjorie and Adrian’s students. All were intriguing in their own way, with raw talent emerging from the brushstrokes.
Up in the main hall, however, there was no oil paint being spread onto linen canvases.
Viv’s jaw fell open. Marjorie and Adrian strolled between rows of nine- and ten-year-old pupils, studiously making illegal copies of the key to some poor sap’s home. Good God. The Wynchesters mightget away with such brazen antics, but the average child most certainly could not! There was no minimum age for gaol—or worse.
“Forgeries?” she spat in disgust. “I cannot believe you’re teaching children to break the law. I should have known scoundrels like you lot would encourage the most impressionable youth to rob their neighbors.”
The entire room stared at her as though she had sprouted a beak and feathers.
Marjorie spoke first. “Er…Isit forgery if they’re copying their own keys for personal use?”
The back of Viv’s neck heated. “They’re duplicating their own keys?”
Twenty little faces nodded, wide-eyed.
“Have you never in your life misplaced an important item?” Adrian asked.
“Um,” said Viv.
“Many of these girls live in families that cannot afford the expense of a locksmith, or the time it would take to find a suitable professional and wait their turn for something so simple,” Marjorie explained. “Not only are using molds and filing down blanks practical life skills, these girls are helping out their parents, who often must juggle a single house key amongst multiple family members.”
Several students nodded.
Viv and Quentin had run into the same problem when she’d first moved in. She’d used the entirety of her first month’s pin money to make herself a spare copy of the house key, only for him to continually lose his own amongst the abandoned projects he left piled in every room. She would have killed for multiple spare copies.
“Back to work, girls,” said Adrian. “You’re doing splendidly.”
“Marvelous job, all,” Viv said weakly. She wondered if anyone would notice if she melted down the stairs.
Before she could attempt a strategic retreat, however, Marjoriecut her off at the pass. “I can show you forgeries, if you want to see forgeries.”
“No,” Viv mumbled. “That’s all right.”
“Extremely illegal forgeries,” Marjorie said dryly. “If you’ll wait here for a moment, I’ll rob the Prince Regent myself. Oh, wait, that was our last student trip. We have copies of his crown. Mine is the real one; His Majesty’s is the forgery.”
“I shouldn’t have accused you of corrupting minors,” Viv said. “Particularly in front of the minors. At least not without evidence.”
“Well, that’s gracious of you. I hope you come to like us a little bit better before you marry my brother.”
Viv choked on her own spit. “Before I what?”
“You care for Jacob, Jacob cares for you.” Marjorie shrugged. “Doesn’t seem confusing to me.”
“Listen,” said Viv, then wondered if it was the wrong thing to say. Marjorie was hard of hearing. Viv hadn’t meant to add insult to insult. “I’m not going to marry your brother. I don’t even like your brother.”
“Hmm,” said Marjorie.
“He doesn’t like me either,” Viv insisted, raising her voice. “Go and ask him.”
“Hmm,” Marjorie said again.
“I don’t like any Wynchesters,” Viv said desperately. “That’s why I walked in here insulting you without a second thought. I hold your entire family’s breathtaking hypocrisy in utter contempt, and I fear for every child your good-hearted obliviousness corrupts.”
The room was staring at her again.
Marjorie and Adrian exchanged a brief flurry of hand gestures. Probably plotting how best to murder Viv and where to hide the body.
“No offense,” Viv added quickly.
