Page 17 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

Jonathan scowled at her. “Enough of your cleverness. If you like, you and I could go promenading. We could have ices at Gunter’s afterwards.”

To her surprise, she felt a spark of hope. She cleared her throat, eyeing her plate. It would be nice to spend time with her brother without arguing. Hadn’t they once been close?

Don’t be a fool, she scolded herself. There will be an argument, and in any case, he’ll just try and throw you in Mr. Pembroke’s way or something like that.

“Perhaps another time,” she said, offering a smile.

Jonathan sniffed, turning his attention back to his newspaper. “Very well. Don’t be late home. I won’t hold dinner for you.”

You never do, she thought, but didn’t say as much.

An hour later saw her walking up to the wrought-iron gates of the orphanage. The cobbled road in front of the building was in need of repair. She had to tread carefully so as not to twist an ankle on the missing cobbles. She could have taken the carriage, of course, and sometimes she did to take the children on rides. However, it was generally more pleasant to walk.

The gatekeeper nodded genially to her, pulling open the gates to let her inside. “Good morning, My Lady.”

“Good morning, Fred. Where are the children?”

“Playing in the courtyard, I believe. They’ll be happy to see you; there’s been bad news.” He leaned forward, dropping his voice. “You know our little tradition for the birthdays?”

Thalia’s heart sank. The board of trustees for St. Sarah’s was remarkably strict. Of course, all orphanages and workhouses were similarly monitored. Nobody wanted to spend money on the needy. It was apparently far easier to consider the poor as inherently lazy or perhaps all drunks and gamblers. It was harder to blame the orphaned children for their situation, so they were simply written off as nuisances.

Any luxuries or treats were firmly opposed. At the moment, a small Christmas dinner was all that could be managed, and the matrons and teachers tried to make sure that each child had a piece of fruit, a new handkerchief, and possibly a small present for their birthday.

“Let me guess,” she mumbled. “It’s been forbidden.”

Fred nodded grimly. “An unnecessary luxury, they said. Sister Abigail tried to argue against it, but she was overruled.”

Thalia’s shoulders sank. With over a hundred children in the orphanage and more coming every day, there was no way she could buy presents for each child’s birthday, not with the allowance Jonathan gave her.

But in a month, I could. Presuming I stay unmarried.

She swallowed, looking away. “Well, that’s bad news.”

“To be sure. But Cook says she’ll try and make something special for the children when it’s their day, which is better than nothing.”

“She’s a good woman.” Thalia nodded. “Well, thank you for telling me, Fred. Do the children know?”

“Aye, they’ve been told. Hardly any of them complained, bless their hearts. And some of them have plenty to complain about.”

A cool breeze ruffled her hair, making her shiver and pull her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

“I hope that one day we can take better care of them than this,” she murmured.

Fred inclined his head. “So do I, My Lady. So do I.”

Thalia slipped past him, stepping into the crumbling old building.

She had chosen to patronize St. Sarah’s for one simple reason—they took good care of the children. The place was run by a young nun, Sister Abigail, who adored children and kept the place shipshape. However, there were still difficult decisions to be made.

For example, last year, the Christmas celebration was cut down to almost nothing so that new schoolbooks could be afforded. Thalia had appealed to her brother in the hope of borrowing money for a Christmas feast. The answer, of course, had been no.

But when I have my own money⁠—

She interrupted that train of thought. It would do her no good to focus on the future just yet. Her present was what caused the trouble.

And I still haven’t decided on whether I’ll go to the Duke’s house tonight.

No, what am I saying? Of course, I have decided! I am not going!