The Last Duke (Thornton 1)

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “No. They like bugs.”

“Oh.” Daphne’s brows drew together as she pondered that dilemma. “Well, Timmy, I didn’t bring any bugs with me, so it’s just as well Henry’s at home. You’ll have to take care of his feeding yourself. However, I did bring some pie. And, since Henry’s not here and wouldn’t enjoy my dessert if he were, would you like some?”

That got the reaction she sought.

A brilliant smile illuminated Timmy’s face. “I sure would!”

“Ye ’ave mince pie in there?” another boy piped up.

“I sure do.” Daphne grinned. “What’s your name?”

“William.”

“William…William.” Daphne tapped her chin thoughtfully. “As I recall, the vicar told me you carried the most firewood of anyone in the class last winter.”

The frail boy of eight sat up proudly. “I can carry a pile taller ’en me from th’ woods to th’ school without restin’ once.”

“That’s extraordinary! And all the more reason you need to keep up your strength.” Daphne went to the basket and lifted its cover. “I have enough pie for everyone. There are also healthy portions of mutton, which I want each of you to take home to your families.”

As she began to unpack the food Daphne felt a small hand tug at her skirts. Looking down, she saw a tiny, blue-eyed girl gazing up at her.

“I’m Prudence,” the tot offered. “What else did ye bring?”

Scrutinizing the child’s frayed dress, Daphne reached into the basket and extracted a gingham frock. “I’ve brought this lovely new dress. Would you like it, Prudence? I think it would fit you perfectly.”

The blue eyes grew huge. “Ye’re givin’ it t’ me?” she whispered.

“It’s yours.”

Reverently, Prudence touched the edge of the hem. “It’s so pretty.”

“So are you.” On impulse, Daphne knelt, hugging the child to her. “And pretty girls need pretty dresses. But you’ve got to promise me one thing. Promise me you’ll wear the dress for my next visit so I can see how lovely it looks on you.”

An awed nod against Daphne’s shoulder.

“Very well. Then take it home.”

“That’s all I ’ave to give ye? Just a promise?” Prudence drew back, eyeing Daphne with the blind hope of a child and the ingrained doubt of deprivation.

“That’s all you have to give me,” Daphne assured her tenderly. She watched Prudence snatch the dress, clutching it as if it were a priceless treasure.

Daphne had seen that poignant possessiveness before.

A never-forgotten memory sprang to her mind of the dark-eyed girl in the House of Perpetual Hope gripping her tattered doll with the same hollow desperation as Prudence now gripped the dress.

Tears clogged Daphne’s throat.

“Prudence,” she blurted out. “Do you have a doll?”

The child winced, but she raised her chin bravely. “I ’ad Martha, but she’s not mine anymore. Mama gave ?

??er to Jane, so she’d stop cryin’.”

“Jane?”

“My little sister. She’s only two. And Mama can’t get the baby to sleep if Jane cries all the time. So she gave Martha to ’er. Now Jane don’t cry so much.”

“That was very kind of you, giving so precious a friend away.”