Page 51 of Duke of Eccess (Seven Dukes of Sin #4)

Temperance cut a parsnip with an old, rusty knife, the knock of metal against the scarred chopping board sinking into the echoey sounds around her: the quiet voices of women, squeals of babies, and yells of children who chased after each other around tables, cots, and coal braziers.

Despite the braziers, it was cold in the almshouse, and many of the women huddled together in patched shawls, men’s greatcoats, and threadbare pelisses.

Acrid coal smoke stung her eyes, but it couldn’t mask the ever-present smell of boiled turnips and unwashed wool.

Somehow yesterday Temperance had managed to make it to Whitechapel.

Luckily she’d had a few coins in her pocket to cover the hackney she’d hired three streets away from Dulcis Court.

Since she’d run out without her pelisse, Grace Lockhart had found her a man’s greatcoat that must have been donated by someone wealthy.

She could still smell the slight tang of male sweat and musk of a piece of clothing that had served someone for years.

Seeing Grace again should have been comforting.

Her black hair escaping from her worn cap, she supervised the coal delivery with her efficient kindness.

But instead, loneliness squeezed Temperance’s heart.

Grace had a purpose here—these women who depended on her.

Temperance had nothing: no real home, no family, no place where she truly belonged.

She managed another slice of the parsnip though it came out crooked, too thin at the top, too thick at the bottom.

Temperance wanted to help somehow, even though she didn’t really know how to peel, cut, or cook. There were many women here who were old, frail, or sick. There were mothers with newborn children and pregnant women. All of them needed food more than she did.

“Miss Fields?” came a familiar voice.

Temperance looked up and was surprised to see the Duchess of Pryde, dressed in a fox-fur-trimmed pelisse of indigo wool, a striking combination of colors that brought out the gorgeous copper coloring of her intricately arranged hair under her indigo bonnet.

Large green eyes looked at her with surprise and genuine friendliness.

“Your Grace,” Temperance exclaimed as she jumped up and curtsied.

“Oh, I suppose it’s incorrect to call you Miss Fields now, isn’t it?” The Duchess of Pryde gave her a bright smile. “You’re Lady Agatha. Lady Agatha Hale, is that right?”

Temperance nodded, stomach twisting. “You witnessed the whole humiliating truth.”

The Duchess of Pryde nodded to a few footmen, who proceeded to roll forward handcarts of coal as Grace Lockhart showed them where the coal bins were.

“Today is Christmas Eve,” said the Duchess of Pryde conversationally. “I wanted to make sure the women are set up for the winter.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

A moment of silence hung between them, with Temperance counting her heartbeats, not knowing how to ask the duchess not to give her location away to anyone.

“Goodness, you must be so distressed and frightened,” said the Duchess of Pryde before Temperance could say anything.

“Just to reassure you, I didn’t believe for a moment that you were mad.

If you are, then it’s not any more so than me or Chastity or Patience.

As scientists, we have been your greatest admirers since we saw the first article in the papers.

We were trying to guess from the limited information and gossip just how you managed to run all those electrical experiments…

and what exactly gave Lady Auster the electric shock that must have scared her to death. ”

Hearing that made the crack in Temperance’s heart begin to heal. “You were my…admirers?” she asked with a laugh she couldn’t stop and tears blurring her eyes.

“Oh, of course! Pray tell, how can I help?”

Here again was someone who was offering help, but Temperance had lost her newly found family because she had not been honest with them. They would never forgive her now.

She wondered for a brief moment if she did belong in the asylum.

Normal, healthy people were like the Duchess of Pryde and her two friends, who Temperance could not help but feel a momentary pang of envy towards.

They didn’t run from help, didn’t struggle with paranoid questions, but relied on people.

Normal people loved openly and remained with their families.

They didn’t seek freedom and independence so fiercely; they weren’t ready to lie, run, and hide—no matter what.

No matter who they hurt.

Temperance suddenly felt the weight of a mountain on her shoulders.

What else could she possibly do in this fight?

She was backed into a corner, cold, miserable, and so, so alone.

Was it time to give up? Stop resisting the unstoppable force of her stepmother and Lord Langston, let them take her to the asylum…

or marry Bartholomew. Whichever they decided.

Because as much as Temperance wanted to trust the Duchess of Pryde, she just couldn’t take that leap of faith. She didn’t want to drag anyone else into the scandal sheets with her.

No, she’d rather be on her own and manage everything by herself.

All she needed to do was to show up tomorrow at Mr. Barton’s office and claim her inheritance.

She supposed it would be silly to assume that Lady Auster and Bartholomew wouldn’t wait for her at the office to try to stop her one last time.

Until she signed her promise that she was indeed one and twenty, she couldn’t claim her inheritance.

They still could stop her. And then what would she do?

But what could the Duchess of Pryde do? Temperance probably needed an army to make sure she reached Mr. Barton’s safely, but the duchess didn’t have an army, and it would be outrageous to ask her for one.

Temperance sat back down at the table and picked up the rusty knife. “I’m afraid there’s nothing you can help me with.”

The Duchess of Pryde took a small step forward. A child ran past her, squealing, chased by another one. “Are you certain? You could spend the night with us at Pryde House and let me and my husband assist you tomorrow.”

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you, Your Grace.”

The Duchess of Pryde sat in another chair at the table, removed her gloves, and picked up a parsnip to peel. “Please, call me Modesty.”

Temperance smiled. Modesty was really like no one else. “In that case, please call me Temperance.”

“Not Agatha?”

“It is the name Papa called me, and I much prefer it to Agatha.”

Modesty smiled and nodded as Temperance resumed her awkward chopping. “I’ve only been a duchess for a few months,” she said with a smile. “If any of the ladies of the ton saw me now, they’d be horrified. And yet this is what I did for years back at my father’s house in Shepherdsbrook.”

Temperance’s knife cut another awkward slice. “I didn’t know that.”

“Indeed. I’m just the daughter of a vicar. I’ve been helping Grace for years.”

She liked this woman more and more. In another life, she hoped they could be friends. Temperance had grown up lonely; her only friend had been Papa, and having a friend like Modesty would have made all the difference.

For a moment there was silence between them as they simply worked. Then Modesty asked, “What are you going to do tomorrow?”

Temperance licked her dry, cold lips as she positioned her knife on the parsnip. “I am going to get into a hackney and go to my solicitor’s office to finally claim my independence.”

She felt Modesty’s sharp gaze on her. “Alone?”

The word hit her in the chest. “Alone.”

Modesty laid her knife on the table and leaned forward. “Why won’t you let me help?”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell the truth to Octavius?”

Temperance let out a shaky breath and met Modesty’s compassionate green gaze.

“In the beginning, I had to lie. He was a stranger, and all I needed was a place to hide for a month. But then as we got closer…” The admission felt freeing, like she was finally opening the dressing over a rotting wound that had needed treatment a long time ago.

“I was afraid he wouldn’t forgive me, that my scandal would ruin him, his hopes, his name—the children.

That the happiness I felt would forever be over.

I almost told him several times, but it’s hard to admit to someone you love that you’ve been lying to them about such a profound thing as who you are. ”

Modesty nodded and smiled sadly. “You love him?”

Ah. Temperance’s gaze blurred with tears. “I do.”

How could she be confessing such deep things to a woman she barely knew? And yet she felt deep in her gut that Modesty was special.

“I understand you very well,” said her new friend quietly.

“You have been in a terrible position for weeks. However, I must say that had you told him from the beginning, he’d have been fighting for you.

He’d never let you be in peril, nor would the rest of the dukes.

Not a few weeks ago, I was kidnapped along with Augustus, and they all came to my rescue, risking their lives for me. ”

Temperance could believe that such things happened, but only in theory, and only for someone else. For someone like Modesty.

Not for her.

Her mind spun as she realized what she’d really heard. “Kidnapped?”

Modesty nodded.

“Heavens, I am so sorry. You must have been terrified.”

“It seems you and I have both been through quite some predicaments.”

Temperance almost smiled. “Indeed. I’ve been betrayed enough to know that even those people you think you can rely on can still let you down. I’d considered Lady Auster as my mother for years, but once my father died and left me his money, she showed her true colors.”

Modesty leaned back in her chair. “I quite understand. Well, if you must do everything by yourself, that is your choice, of course. But I hope you know that from time to time we all need to rely on each other. Look at this.” She gestured around herself.

“How many women learn to count on each other at the almshouse and help each other make their lives better? Not everyone is like your stepmother, Temperance.”

“I’m sure that is true,” she said with a wry smile, “but I just can’t bring myself to do it. All I can see now is how letting people close to me only leads to pain.”

Besides, she was so heartbroken at having lost all of those she cared for. She missed Margaret, James, and Sophie terribly, and missed Octavius more than her body could bear.

Modesty said her goodbyes with a sad smile and asked her to please let her know if she changed her mind or needed any help. As she walked away, Temperance returned to cutting parsnips and thinking about how one could be surrounded by so many people and yet feel entirely alone.

This could be her last evening before she was committed to an asylum, and no one escaped such a place once inside.

It was a place to lock women away: those who spoke up, those who didn’t behave as society demanded, those who really did need help and kindness and support.

Tomorrow on her birthday, either she would be one of them or she would be free.

“Help me, Papa,” Temperance sent up a silent prayer. “I know what I need to do, but I’m so scared…”

She felt his presence with her, his support. There was a tug at her heart and a sense of peace spread over her.

An idea struck her like lightning. She could trick her stepmother with the very thing she feared most: science!

All she needed was a nail, a glass preserves jar, and a cork jar stopper…