Page 10 of The Forger and the Duke
“I am Miss Illingworth,” Amaranthe answered, “and I am glad you like my art. These are copies I made from medieval books, mostly poems of romance.”
Why she introduced the topic of romance, she couldn’t say. The children dutifully regarded their surroundings over their bowls of soup. Their guardian watched Amaranthe.
“You are Illingworth’s sister,” he deduced.
“How kind of you to notice.” She had no idea how to address him. He’d made no introduction to her.
“You look a great deal like him,” Ned said.
“So we are often told, thank you.”
“He won’t let me take lessons with Ned.” Camilla frowned.
“How rotten of him,” Amaranthe replied. “Does your governess at least teach you on topics you find of interest?”
“I don’t have a governess. I have—well, had a nurse.”
Grey blinked at her in surprise. “Millie, what happened to your nurse?”
“Gone for days, Grey.” Camilla stared back at him with wide eyes. “She got word her da was ill and had to go do for him. She said she’d come back, but…” The girl’s eyes fell, and she crammed a slice of cake into her mouth as consolation.
“Who is looking after you, Lady Camilla?” Amaranthe asked softly.
She gulped. “Huey and Ned.”
Grey put down his tea. He appeared at complete loss for words. Any aggravation Amaranthe felt over his thick-headedness evaporated at the look of horror upon his face.
“Where are all the servants?”
The children looked at one another, and a long silence ensued.
“How long have you been without proper meals?” Amaranthe asked.
Camilla bit her lip and appealed to her brothers. The young duke stared into his dish of tea. Ned struggled not to cry.
The little girl straightened her shoulders. “Cook left two weeks ago.”
“Ralph’s run round to the cookshop for us,” Ned said, “but now there’s no more coin and…” He trailed off.
“There are a great many things missing from the front of the house,” Grey said, but his tone lacked accusation. Instead his voice sounded carefully bland. Amaranthe wanted to slap him. How dare he care about ducal furnishings when the children were clearly in desperate straits?
Young Hunsdon shook his head. “That wasn’t Ralph who stole Papa’s things. I don’t think it was any of the others either. Nurse said they wouldn’t risk charges, even if they weren’t getting proper wages.”
Grey no longer looked cavalier. He looked like someone had planted him a facer and laid him out cold. “Popplewell,” he said, the way one would utter a curse.
“Who is Popplewell?” Amaranthe asked. Was her brother employed in a house frequented by criminals?
“The land steward for the various estates,” Grey said grimly. “He appears to have absented himself from the country, along with—never mind. Where has Sybil been all this time?”
“We haven’t seen her ladyship in weeks, sir,” Ned answered. “Left with a great fuss and bustle, you couldn’t conscience the amount of luggage, but it’s been a treat to move about the house without giving her the headache, I must say.”
Amaranthe sagged in her chair. “Your mother is gone, the servants abandoned their posts, the house has been robbed—and my brother has noticed nothing of your distress in all this time?”
The young duke lifted his chin, and Amaranthe gleaned that whatever this boy had been raised to be, it was not soft.
“We did not think it the thing to trouble our tutor with our sorry circumstances. And the duchess isnotour mother.”
Amaranthe tried to grasp the situation. These three children had been hiding in their home for days, only a footman for protection, knowing nothing of the world or how to shift for themselves. Derwa, though no older than Camilla, would have lasted for weeks in the same situation, but Derwa knew how to cook, clean, shop, and do laundry. The old duke’s children had been raised to know nothing but social etiquette and pride of place.
