Page 19 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

“Oh, much better. Here,” Thalia said when they pulled back. “Take another piece. Go on, just don’t tell the others.”

Sophia and Nicholas gladly took a second peppermint, clearly thrilled that their hugs had worked so nicely. They scuttled back off towards the tree, leaving Alex behind.

He glanced up at Thalia, and she knew then and there that there’d be no fooling him.

“Why are you anxious?” he asked quietly. “You can tell me if you like. I’m almost a man. I’m quite grown, you see, so I’m sure I can help.”

Thalia bit back a smile. “Why, how kind of you. But some burdens are too big for a ten-year-old boy to bear, even one who is almost eleven. I have something important to do tonight, something that I have not quite made up my mind about. However, it might help somebody and myself. But I have to be brave about it.”

Alex nodded wisely. “Most of the time, good things happen when you’re brave. Like when I walked here alone. I was brave, and now I can live here with my friends.”

Thalia tilted her head. “Yes,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Rather like that. One day, you shall have to tell me how you knew the way here at only six years old. It has been four years, yet I’ve never heard your tale.”

Alex reddened, ducking his head. He shrugged, and Thalia chuckled, bending down to kiss the top of his head.

“You are very sweet, Alex. You have cheered me up, all of you.”

This seemed to please him.

She let him take a second peppermint, and then he scuttled off to take up his place at the base of the tree, reopening his book.

Thalia turned and walked back towards the building. A woman stood by the door now, watching her. Tall and painfully thin, with a large, hooked nose and a tendril of jet-black hair escaping from beneath her nun’s habit, Sister Abigail was a familiar sight in the halls of St. Sarah’s.

“Lady Thalia,” she greeted with a nod. “I assume you’ve heard the news about our birthday celebrations. Or rather, the birthday celebrations we won’t be having from now on.”

Thalia winced. “I have. What cruelty. Surely a piece of fruit and a new handkerchief on a child’s birthday cannot be such a sin.”

“It is not. But the trustees do not believe that the children’s day of birth is a thing to celebrate. They want them kept low, uneducated, humble, unambitious, and so on. St. Sarah’s is sending out clever and determined young men and women, and that is not considered a good thing.”

“Ridiculous. I wish I could contribute more, but my brother keeps tight reins on my purse.”

Sister Abigail faced her. “It is not your money I need now, Lady Thalia. I need your help. I suspect that the trustees will further restrict us. I hear complaints on all sides. We feed the children too well and too frequently. Their books are too good; they play too often. I could go on and on. We’ll face more arbitrary rules if I’m not mistaken. I might even be removed from my post if I refuse to follow them.”

“Good heavens.”

“Yes, so I thought. We’ll be meeting tonight, myself and some other sisters, to discuss how to face this new threat. I should like you to join us.”

Thalia bit her lower lip. “I… I can’t. Not tonight. I have something rather important to do.”

Sister Abigail’s eyebrows flickered. Thalia could almost hear her saying, More important than caring for destitute orphans?

Instead of saying it, she turned away, nodding. “Very well. But I do hope you’ll help us, Lady Thalia. I worry for the future of St. Sarah’s. I worry very much, indeed.”

CHAPTER 6

The clock read ten minutes past midnight. The last chimes of the hour seemed to linger in the air.

Christian heaved a ragged sigh, downing the last of his whiskey. It was a good single malt, decently expensive, and he had drunk at least three glasses without tasting a drop. What a waste.

The alcohol tugged at his gut when he stood up. There was no dizziness—he would need to drink another three glasses at least for that—but he was vaguely aware that he had drunk too much.

Foolish. What if she came after all?

Well, she was not coming. Lady Thalia, despite her bold words and fierce stare, was not quite fearless enough to venture out into the night sans chaperone and straight into the carriage of a very suspect gentleman.

And I am a very suspect gentleman, Christian thought, biting back a smile.

He had turned down what might have been a very pleasant evening with Mrs. Murman, just as he had turned down other potentially pleasant evenings with her.