Allaric did not immediately explain why he had asked Marin to remain.
That irritated her.
She had spent too many years depending upon wealthy people to enjoy mysteries created by them.
After the last carriage rolled away from Ravenshade House, the blue receiving room became strangely peaceful.
A servant entered.
“Tea, Your Grace?”
Allaric looked at Marin.
“Have you eaten?”
The question embarrassed her more than anything he had asked publicly.
“Yes.”
Her stomach betrayed her with a quiet sound.
Allaric’s eyes dropped briefly toward it.
Marin closed hers.
“Apparently,” she said, “my stomach has chosen rebellion.”
A corner of his mouth moved.
He turned toward the servant.
“Lunch.”
“For two?”
“For four.”
Marin frowned.
“Four?”
“You will see.”
Twenty minutes later, she discovered that the duke’s question had never been hypothetical.
Allaric led her through the servants’ corridor, down a back staircase, across the courtyard, and toward a small estate office near the kitchens.
A boy sat inside.
Nine years old, perhaps ten.
Too thin.
Brown hair badly cut.
One cheek bruised.
He held himself with the rigid suspicion of a child accustomed to adults approaching only when trouble followed.
Beside him sat a younger girl of perhaps six.
She was eating soup with both hands wrapped around the bowl.
Marin stopped.
Allaric watched her face.
“The boy’s name is Thomas Reed.”
Marin looked at him.
“The child from your question.”
“Yes.”
“You actually caught him stealing bread.”
“Yesterday.”
“And you spent this morning interviewing thirty women about him?”
“I did.”
Marin stared at the duke.
“That is possibly the strangest method of choosing a wife I have ever heard.”
“I suspected you might say so.”
Thomas watched them.
Marin crouched so she would not tower over him.
“Hello, Thomas.”
He said nothing.
The little girl continued eating.
Marin nodded toward her.
“Your sister?”
Thomas’s jaw tightened.
“Annie.”
“She likes the soup.”
“She ain’t eaten proper in two days.”
Allaric’s face hardened.
Marin looked at him.
“You knew?”
“Not until this morning.”
Thomas suddenly spoke.
“I never meant to steal money.”
“No one said you did,” Marin replied.
“I only took bread.”
“I know.”
“And cheese.”
Marin nodded seriously.
“We should not forget the cheese.”
Thomas looked surprised.
“And two apples.”
Allaric crossed his arms.
“This confession grows more expensive by the minute.”
Thomas’s eyes widened.
Then he saw the faint humor in the duke’s face.
For the first time, the boy almost smiled.
Marin sat on the chair opposite him.
“Where is your father?”
Thomas looked down.
“Gone.”
“Gone where?”
“I dunno.”
“When did he leave?”
“Winter.”
It was now late summer.
Marin felt a cold pressure in her chest.
“Who has cared for you since then?”
“My aunt sometimes.”
“And the rest of the time?”
Thomas shrugged.
“Me.”
Annie scraped her spoon along the bottom of the bowl.
Allaric’s expression had become dangerous.
“Thomas’s father worked at one of my tenant farms,” he explained. “When the man disappeared, the local steward recorded the cottage as abandoned.”
Marin turned sharply.
“With two children inside?”
“The report claimed they had gone with him.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Mr. Pritchard said if we told anybody, they’d send us to the workhouse.”
Allaric went still.
“Who is Mr. Pritchard?”
“The assistant steward at Westmere.”
Marin looked at the duke.
He was no longer merely cold.
He was furious.
“Why would he say that?”
Thomas swallowed.
“Father owed him money.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Mr. Pritchard take anything from your cottage?”
Thomas nodded.
“Blankets. Mum’s silver brush. Father’s tools.”
Marin’s eyes met Allaric’s.
There it was.
The answer beneath the answer.
The theft of bread was not the beginning of a problem.
It was evidence of one.
Marin turned back to Thomas.
“What happened yesterday?”
“Annie was hungry.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Thomas looked confused.
Marin softened her voice.
“What happened from the moment you woke up?”
He explained.
There had been no food.
He had tried asking at a farmhouse.
The farmer’s wife had turned him away because she had been told the children were trouble.
He tried working at the stable but was told he was too young.
He found mushrooms, but Annie became ill after eating one months earlier, so he was afraid to risk them.
Finally, he walked four miles to the Ravenshade kitchens.
He waited outside until a delivery cart arrived.
Then he slipped in.
He took bread.
Cheese.
Two apples.
A cook caught him.
The steward wanted him taken before the magistrate.
Allaric happened to return from riding and heard the argument.
“And you decided to interview possible duchesses,” Marin said later as they walked through the courtyard.
“I was already expected to receive them.”
“So you changed the interview.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Allaric looked toward the stable yard.
“My mother believed the next Duchess of Ravenshade should understand charity.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“She defined charity as having her name engraved on hospitals.”
Marin said nothing.
“My father defined justice as punishment.”
“That sounds less reasonable.”
“My father believed fear produced obedience.”
“And did it?”
“It produced excellent liars.”
They walked a few more steps.
Marin began to understand why his question had mattered so much.
“You were not asking what those women would do to Thomas.”
“No.”
“You were asking what kind of power they believed a duchess should possess.”
His eyes moved to hers.
“Yes.”
“And you disliked every answer.”
“Until yours.”
Marin stopped.
“Your Grace, I hope you are not about to do something absurd.”
“How would you define absurd?”
“Anything involving my answer and matrimony.”
He looked almost amused.
“You think highly of yourself.”
“I think practically of men with titles.”
That earned the smallest laugh.
It transformed his face.
For a brief second, the feared Duke of Ravenshade looked simply like a man who had forgotten that laughter was possible.
Then the expression disappeared.
“Walk with me.”
They crossed into the gardens.
Ravenshade House stood behind them, vast and dark against the afternoon sky.
Marin noticed the contrast between the magnificent terraces and the conversation they had just had about two starving children.
“Thomas and Annie will remain here for now,” Allaric said. “I have sent men to Westmere to investigate.”
“Good.”
“You approve?”
“It is your estate.”
“That was not my question.”
Marin looked at him.
“Yes. I approve.”
“Thank you.”
“You did not require my approval.”
“No. But I wanted it.”
That was more unsettling than arrogance would have been.
They reached an old stone bench beneath a cedar tree.
Allaric did not sit.
“I require someone to review conditions on my tenant properties.”
Marin blinked.
“You have stewards.”
“I have just discovered one steward accepted a false report that allowed two children to starve unnoticed.”
“Then dismiss him.”
“I may.”
“After investigation.”
“Yes.”
She studied him.
“You want me to investigate?”
“I want you to help.”
“I am a companion.”
“You are a woman who asked the question none of thirty educated ladies thought to ask.”
“That hardly qualifies me to administer estates.”
“No. Surviving hardship while remaining observant does.”
Marin looked away.
“You know very little about my hardship.”
“I know your father died in debt.”
Her head turned sharply.
Allaric continued.
“I know the Ellery property was sold. I know creditors took most of the furniture. I know your mother died three years later. I know you worked as a governess in Devon and left after the master’s eldest son attempted to enter your bedroom twice.”
Marin’s face lost color.
“How do you know that?”
“I made inquiries.”
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
“You had me investigated while I was eating lunch?”
“I own fast horses.”
“That is not charming.”
“I was not attempting charm.”
“I noticed.”
He accepted the insult calmly.
Marin folded her arms.
“What else?”
“You worked for Mrs. Harrow, who died and left you twenty pounds. You gave twelve of it to her maid because the maid had an infant and nowhere to go.”
Marin’s voice tightened.
“That was private.”
“Yes.”
“How dare you?”
For the first time, Allaric seemed uncertain.
“I wanted to understand whether your answer this morning was performance.”
“And?”
“It was not.”
“That does not excuse invading my life.”
“No.”
The simple admission startled her.
“I apologize.”
Marin stared.
Men like him rarely apologized.
Dukes almost never did.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then do not do it again.”
“Without your permission.”
She almost smiled.
“Better.”
Allaric sat on the stone bench.
After a moment, Marin joined him.
“What exactly would you want me to do?”
“Visit tenant villages. Speak with families.”
“They may not speak honestly if they know I represent you.”
“Then they need not know initially.”
“That sounds suspiciously like spying.”
“Observation.”
“Spying in sensible shoes.”
This time he laughed openly.
Marin found herself smiling despite herself.
Then the front bell of Ravenshade House rang.
A servant soon appeared in the garden.
“Your Grace.”
Allaric stood.
“What is it?”
The servant looked uncomfortable.
“Lord Whitmore has arrived.”
Marin’s stomach sank.
Arabella’s father.
Allaric’s expression hardened again.
“Alone?”
“No, Your Grace. Lady Arabella is with him.”
Marin rose.
“I should leave.”
“No.”
“This concerns your families.”
“It concerns you.”
“All the more reason.”
Allaric looked at her.
“You did nothing wrong.”
“In rooms like yours, that has rarely prevented punishment.”
Something in his expression shifted.
Before he could answer, voices came from the terrace.
Lord Whitmore appeared.
He was large, silver-haired, and furious.
Arabella followed him, no longer crying.
She looked determined.
The dowager countess was with them.
Her face held triumph.
Lord Whitmore stopped ten feet away.
“Ravenshade.”
“Allaric replied, “Whitmore.”
“You humiliated my daughter in front of half the county.”
“Your daughter answered a question.”
“She was mocked.”
“She was corrected.”
Arabella’s face reddened.
Lord Whitmore pointed toward Marin.
“And then you elevated this woman above her.”
Marin stiffened.
Allaric stepped slightly between them.
“I invited Miss Ellery to speak.”
“She is employed by my sister.”
The dowager countess spoke coldly.
“Not anymore.”
Marin turned.
The countess smiled.
“You embarrassed Lady Arabella. You embarrassed me. You have no position in my household.”
For one moment, Marin could not breathe.
She had eighteen shillings in her purse.
No home.
No immediate prospects.
Allaric looked at the countess.
“You dismiss her because she answered me truthfully?”
“I dismiss her because she forgot her place.”
Marin’s pride fought her fear.
She lifted her chin.
“Then I thank you for the employment you provided.”
The countess looked disappointed that Marin did not beg.
Arabella smiled.
“Where will you go?”
Marin said nothing.
She did not know.
Allaric did.
“Here.”
Everyone turned.
Marin stared at him.
Allaric’s voice remained calm.
“Miss Ellery has accepted a position in my household.”
“I have?” Marin whispered.
He looked at her.
“You are about to.”
Despite everything, she nearly laughed.
Lord Whitmore stepped closer.
“Be careful, Ravenshade. Society may tolerate eccentricity from a duke, but not indefinitely.”
Allaric’s eyes cooled.
“I have never considered society’s tolerance a particularly valuable possession.”
Arabella looked at Marin.
“This is not over.”
Marin believed her.
And as the Whitmores walked away, she understood that answering the duke’s question had not simply secured her employment.
It had placed her directly in the path of one of England’s most powerful families.