Page 29 of Stolen By the Cruel Duke
“Thank you for speaking with me,” Iris said reluctantly. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Milady.” Thomas bobbed his head, grabbed the end of his wheelbarrow, and turned away from her. Soon, he had disappeared around a bend in the tunnel.
Iris watched him go with a knot in her stomach. She had never felt so much anger in her life, except perhaps when her father had promised Violet to Lord Redfield. The injustice of it was infuriating.
This was what her father did, over and over again—he exploited children. First her, with his threats of marriage to vile older men, then Violet, by promising her to Lord Redfield as a means of punishing Iris, and throughout it all, these little boys, who should have been out enjoying their childhoods, not working in dark, dangerous mines.
Iris was quiet for the rest of the tour. Phineas remained calm and cool, talking to the foreman politely, asking questions and making comments about the possible pros and cons of investing. He didn’t so much as glance at her, even though she was sure he had seen the dark, angry expression on her face.
Doesn’t he care that we are surrounded by so much human misery?
Didn’t he care that she was on the verge of tears? Didn’t he care about anything other than his revenge?
By the time they emerged from the mines half an hour later, Iris was incensed at the world and all the powerful men who controlled it, including her husband. Her rage fueled her purpose. Never in her life had she been so determined to take down her father—and shut down his mining operations once and for all.
Chapter Eleven
“You’ve been very quiet today,” Phineas noted that evening, as he watched his wife picking at her food. “I know it was difficult to see what we saw today.”
Iris looked up at him, a surprised expression on her sharp, beautiful face.
“Do you?” she asked, her tone accusatory. “I got the impression that you weren’t affected at all by what we saw today.”
Phineas raised an eyebrow. Her words stung, although he wouldn’t let on that they hurt. “I was acting,” he reminded her. “I didn’t want to raise the foreman’s suspicions by getting upset by what we saw.”
“It didn’t seem like acting to me,” she snapped.
Reaching for her wine, she took an unsteady sip. When she set the glass back down on the table, her eyes were filled with tears.
Phineas took a long sip of his wine before responding. It was a surprisingly good wine for an inn of this size in the south of Wales.
They were in the dining room of the inn, where the innkeeper had insisted they sit at the largest table and enjoy the most lavish meal the cook could prepare—Venison, Phineas noted with pleasure. The innkeeper had been beside himself when he’d realized that a duke and duchess would be staying at his inn. He’d given them the finest bedroom and ensured them that they would want for nothing. The experience might have been relaxing, even romantic, if it weren’t for the specter of the mines hanging over them.
Iris’s sadness was not unexpected. Her care for others was part of what Phineas admired so much about her. She always put other people first. Watching her today speaking to the young boy in the tunnel had moved him more than he cared to admit. Not only had it touched him deeply that she’d been so concerned for the boy, but he couldn’t help but think what she might look like talking to their own son… Not just talking to him, but protecting him from the cruelty of the world, advocating for him just as she’d clearly wanted to advocate for the boy in the mine.
In truth, the image had affected Phineas so powerfully that it had taken a great deal of strength not to ask for a moment alone so that he could collect himself.
But of course, he hadn’t. If he had, Mr. Greaves might have been suspicious and kicked them out of the mines.
“It was very difficult for me not to say anything,” he said. “I was disgusted by what I saw in those mines. The exploitation and abuse not only of children but of all the workers… It sickens me. This is not what my father had in mind when he thought about converting the land into mines.”
“Do you mean it?” Iris croaked, her eyes still wet.
“Of course I mean it,” he said, a flare of annoyance coloring his voice.
Who does she think I am?
“There were moments during that tour when I wanted to break character and tell Mr. Greaves exactly how long I’d make sure he went to prison for what he was doing to those children. Him and your father, of course.”
Iris was gazing at him with a strange expression on her face. It was almost like admiration, and it emboldened him further.
“In fact, I might have, if it hadn’t been for you.”
“Me?” She looked taken aback. “What did I do?”
“You spoke to that little boy. If you hadn’t, I wasn’t sure I could bear it. But once I saw you speaking to him, I knew that I had to keep Mr. Greaves distracted so you could get the real story. It gave me purpose.”
Iris was quiet for a moment. “I’m very impressed,” she said finally. “You are a good man, Phineas.”
