Page 28 of Stolen By the Cruel Duke
“Excuse me, Your Grace,” he snarled, “but if your husband means to invest, you should be thankin’ us that we have found such clever means to cut costs. Do you know how much it costs to keep this mine goin’? It’s a fortune, and every chance we get to save money and make more for our shareholders, we take it.”
Iris felt a sick feeling rise in her stomach, and she had just opened her mouth to give the foreman a piece of her mind when Phineas put a hand on her elbow. Jerkily, she turned to stare at him. Very subtly, he shook his headno. Iris shut her mouth and turned away from the foreman as best she could, making her way, crouched down, over to one of the children close by.
“Forgive Her Grace,” she heard Phineas say. “She has a soft heart.”
“I think it very unwise to allow a lady down into the mines,” the foreman grunted. “Especially a duchess.”
She didn’t hear Phineas’s response. The child near her had just looked up, and the pain in his eyes was enough to erase every other thought from her head.
“Are you all right?” she asked, reaching out a hand instinctively.
The child flinched and leaned away from her.
“I won’t hurt you,” she soothed, lowering her voice to a soft whisper. “My name is Iris. What’s yours?”
The child looked up at her with big, uncertain eyes, and she smiled.
“Thomas,” he mumbled and then looked back down at the ground.
“It’s nice to meet you, Thomas,” Iris said firmly. “I was wondering if you could tell me how old you are.”
“I’m ten, Milady,” he replied, his eyes still downcast.
He must have heard her accent and realized she was from the peerage. Iris’s heart ached. Even down here in the dark and misery of the mines, this little boy had to treat her as if she were his superior. Worse still, she knew there were some people—people like her father—who would be offended that he hadn’t used the correct honorific. It was then that Iris felt a stirring of hatred in her chest for her father and all those who exploited the vulnerability of others, especially children.
“And how old were you when you started working here?” she asked.
“Eight, Milady.”
“Eight?!” Iris felt her blood boil, but she tried to keep her voice calm and steady. “And are you treated well here?”
At last, Thomas looked back up. But instead of looking at her, he glanced over her shoulder to where the foreman was still speaking to Phineas. His expression was fearful.
“Yes, Milady,” he mumbled.
Iris leaned a little closer so that their foreheads were almost touching. “You can tell me the truth,” she whispered. “My husband is very powerful, and if you say you are treated poorly, he can make things better for you.”
Thomas swallowed and shook his head. “I ain’t treated bad, Milady. Mr. Greaves is good to us.”
Feeling that the boy would not speak ill of the foreman while he was so close, Iris changed tactics. “And the dust down here, does it not bother you?”
“I get sick a lot,” Thomas admitted, his voice lowering slightly. “And Ma says it’s from the coal dust. I cough up blood sometimes.”
“That’s terrible!” Iris gasped. “Have you seen a doctor?”
“We can’t afford a doctor, Milady,” Thomas mumbled, looking back down at his toes.
“Even with the extra wages you make working here?”
“Ma takes me to the local healer,” he said. “Soon I’ll be old enough to go to London and work in a factory. Ma says that will be better for my lungs.”
Iris gaped at him. “But you’d have to leave your family.”
“The factories give us room and board,” Thomas said, shrugging. “I just want to help my family. Pa can’t work anymore ever since his injury on the farm…”
Just then, he began to cough. It was a hacking cough, so powerful that it shook his whole body. He raised a hand to cover his mouth, and Iris saw the tears that had sprung to his eyes. It took everything in her not to reach out and take him in her arms.
“I should get back to work,” he wheezed, once he finished coughing.
