How to Marry a Duke (A Cinderella Society 2)

Charlie smiled again, that true bright smile. “My brother did tell me to look closer.”

Before Meg could ask her to elaborate on that mysterious statement, one of the farmers approached them. “Good day, ladies.” He took off his cap. His hair went every which way, wild with curls. “Are ye lost?”

“Good day,” Meg replied. “We’ve come from the abbey. This is the duke’s sister, Lady Charlo—Lady Charlie,” Meg introduced her.

“She’s a viscount’s daughter,” Charlie blurted out, pointing at Meg. “Miss Swift.”

Meg bit back a smile. The farmer was surprised, as were the other villagers, drawing closer. Meg was instantly more at home with mud underfoot, the smell of leaf fires, the shouts of men nearby wrestling with heavy work. A dog trotted past.

“Welcome, your ladyship.” The man bowed. There was a flurry of curtsies and curious glances behind him. “I’m Angus Blue.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Blue. Are those your beehives we saw down the lane?”

“Me wife’s,” he said proudly. “Best in the shire.”

“Does she sell her honey in the town?”

“That she does.”

“I’ll be sure to stop and buy some before I leave for home. My godfather has a sweet tooth.” He had no such thing, but no one needed to know that.

“A kindness that is, Miss.”

“Does Mr. Clarke know you’re here?” A woman asked sharply. Her gray hair was wrapped in a braid like a crown, just as Meg wore hers. Her gray shawl was expertly made but mended. Her eyes, the same gray, were sharp as thistles.

“Never mind, Agrimony,” Angus said, widening his eyes in warning at the old lady. She did not look particularly warned.

In fact, she waved him off like he was one of his wife’s bees. “Bah. Off with you, Angus.”

As he wandered away muttering, the children crept closer, all wide eyes and expectant grins. Meg had a feeling that Agrimony’s temper was part of the daily entertainment. She’d know all there was to know, though. And Meg had a few questions to ask. Charlie remained quiet and uncomfortable, trying not to be noticed or to take up too much space.

Meg, always one to have sweets in her pockets, pulled out a handful of lemon candies. “Oh dear, I seem to have too many lemon drops. It would be a shame if they should go to waste.” Two of the braver children barreled closer. “Might you help me?”

Meg nearly lost two fingers and a toe in the ensuing rush. As the children occupied themselves with sugary sweets, Meg looked at Agrimony. “Clever, you are,” the old lady allowed.

“May I ask you something?”

“I expect so. Seeing as my grandson has a gob full of candy.” She eyed Charlie. “First, I’ve a question.”

“Yes?”

“What’s with this one? She looks peaky.”

Charlie did look peaky. Also not terribly thrilled to be singled out. “I’m used to working in the mill,” Charlie finally said. There was a twinkle in her eye. “I’m not used to all this fresh air.”

Agrimony narrowed one eye. There was a pause where even the birds seemed to hold their breath. Then she barked out a laugh. “That’s all right, then. Bit of sun will sort you out.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ma’am!” Agrimony howled. “Like that, I do.”

“Why should the steward need to know we are here?” Meg asked since it seemed Agrimony was as amenable to conversation as she would get.

She spat in the weeds but there was a twinkle to her. “Caught that, did ye?” She scowled. “Thinks we complain, he does. But before the old duke got sick, when my grandson there was still just a baby, we lived in good sturdy houses. The fields drained properly.”

“And now?”

She shrugged bad-temperedly. “Walls crack, windows won’t shut anymore because of the damp. And roofs leak, don’t they? But no one fixes them anymore.” She pointed across the path to a small cottage with a garden full of fading marigolds. A very, very pregnant woman leaned against the wattle fence, thick with raspberry cane. “Her man died recently and with the harvest, no one’s had the time to climb up and fix her roof. Clark don’t care and Mary’s too pregnant to do it herself. None of the littl’uns can reach the spot.”