Page 31 of Duke of Eccess (Seven Dukes of Sin #4)
And Temperance herself? The feel of gliding, the wet sprinkles of ice when James did his turns, the joyful squeals of people around her…
She allowed herself to forget the constant need to watch out, to be careful.
The children’s laughter, the crisp winter air, the simple pleasure of movement across the ice…
it felt like stepping back into a life she’d thought lost forever.
“Miss Fields, your skating is quite accomplished,” James called out as he glided past in a graceful backwards arc.
“Papa taught me on the pond at our…” She almost said country estate but remembered just in time that governesses didn’t have country estates. “Near our house.”
Such personal details were dangerous, but the words had nearly slipped out in her contentment.
“He must have been an excellent teacher,” Margaret said as she turned smoothly.
“He was. This was one of the simple ways to take small joys.”
The memory brought unexpected tears to her eyes. Papa would have loved seeing her here with these children, would have been delighted by their skill and bright faces. She felt his presence with her and smiled into the sky, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.
When they were preparing to leave, Temperance spotted a stall selling gingerbread biscuits. “Let’s have a treat,” she announced, leading them off the ice.
As they sat on a wooden bench and unfastened their skates near a warming fire, unease prickled at Temperance’s neck. She glanced around the crowd. Why did she feel as if someone was watching her?
So far she couldn’t see anything suspicious, so after the children removed their skates, she bought the biscuits and handed them out.
“These are delicious,” Margaret said through a mouthful.
“The man said they’re freshly baked,” Temperance replied, her eyes still scanning the crowd, chewing her own gingerbread.
That was when her blood turned to ice water in her veins.
A short, stocky figure standing near the mulled wine stall caught her eye. Something about him looked familiar and made her stomach clench with dread.
Then he turned. His face was round, friendly, the kind of face that belonged on a local baker.
But he had the eyes of a hunter.
Mr. Finch.
Temperance’s gingerbread fell onto the snow. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to run but her legs felt like lead, rooted to the ground.
He made a mock bow.
“Lady Agatha Hale,” he called out.
Blood drained from Temperance’s face. “Children, we must go. Now.”
“What’s wrong?” Sophie asked, still holding her half-eaten gingerbread.
“Did that man mean you?” James said. “Who is he?”
“He is mistaken.” With shaking hands, Temperance hurriedly helped Sophie to her feet. “We need to return to the carriage.”
“But if he’s mistaken,” said Margaret, “why do we need to run?”
Oh, why do they have to be so brilliant? Temperance’s mind raced quickly for an explanation. “Because even though he’s mistaken, men who approach strangers so boldly and shout so wildly aren’t safe to be around. I must protect you, and something about that man isn’t right.”
They hurried between the stalls, and as Temperance turned, she saw Mr. Finch pushing through the crowd behind them—and along the path, two more men moved to flank them.
James looked over his shoulder. “Is he following us?”
“I’m afraid so—make haste!”
The boy turned around and began running, but Mr. Finch and the other two men were following them, weaving right and left between people.
Heavens, twelve more days. She needed just twelve more days to reach her birthday and secure her freedom—but their pursuers closed in, ten feet away, then five?—
James made a sharp right turn, pulling them towards a space between two stalls. “This way!”
Temperance pushed the girls forward then followed them, squeezing through the narrow gap and emerging behind the row of stalls into the open parkland. Here snow lay thick and pristine across the meadow, and their feet sank with each step, making progress slow and exhausting.
Sophie panted, “I can’t…move…anymore.”
“Come here, dearest.” Temperance picked her up.
The girl was thin, but still heavy enough to slow her down—yet desperation had her pushing forward.
Her breath came out in puffs, a needle piercing her side. “Just a bit farther. We can reach the main path ahead of them.”
By the time they emerged onto the main snow- and ice-covered gravel path, Sophie felt like a dead weight in Temperance’s arms and her legs shook with exhaustion. The carriage would be just ahead, but she was exhausted, with no idea how she would reach it.
With the next step Temperance’s foot slipped and Sophie’s weight shifted in her arms. In a flash of white sky and crimson panic, they both went down hard. Air was crushed from Temperance’s lungs as her tailbone hit the ice, sending shockwaves of pain up her spine.
But it was Sophie’s sharp cry that truly terrified her. The girl lay sprawled beside her, her small face contorted in pain. “My ankle,” she whimpered.
Temperance scrambled to her knees, scanning desperately for their pursuers. Miraculously Mr. Finch and his men were nowhere in sight. They must have continued on the main path as James led them through the stalls.
“Let me see.” Temperance lifted the girl’s skirt slightly, though the thick stocking made it impossible to assess the injury.
James and Margaret crouched beside them. “Is it broken?” her brother asked anxiously.
“I don’t think so, but we need to get her home immediately.” Temperance gathered Sophie carefully in her arms, wincing at the girl’s soft cry of pain.
Home. When had she started thinking of Dulcis Court as home?
With Sophie injured, the decision was made for her.
She couldn’t run away from this family again, not with a child in pain because of her, not when these children had come to matter so much.
She would have to face whatever dangers awaited her under Octavius’s roof, risk discovery with every passing hour…
And stay.
James wrenched open their carriage door. As Temperance settled Sophie against the cushions and saw the trust in all three children’s eyes, she knew she’d made the only choice she could live with.