Page 30 of Stolen By the Cruel Duke
Phineas almost choked on his food. No one had ever said this to him before, and to his horror, he realized he was blushing. Iris seemed to notice because she changed the subject quickly.
“I always knew my father was evil,” she rushed to say, “but I never really knew the extent of it until today.”
“Unfortunately, he isn’t that different from most other landowners,” Phineas said, eager to seize the new topic. “Many gentlemen I know would use their land and positions of power in exactly the same way. And the truth is, coal mining is difficult and dangerous work. It has revolutionized the country and keeps our fires lit and our houses warm, but the cost to human life and dignity is severe.”
Iris set down her fork and knife, her expression troubled. “Then what can we do? Close down the mine?”
“That’s one option.” Phineas frowned. “But then the miners would lose their jobs. Many of them, in fact, would be against the closure of the mines.”
“Even if it improved their quality of life?”
“Their quality of life would hardly go up if they had no income,” Phineas pointed out.
Iris fidgeted in her seat, clearly trying to wrap her mind around all this. “But the way things are… they can’t go on.”
“No, they can’t,” Phineas agreed. “The way your father runs his mines is particularly egregious. The miners should be receiving three times what he is paying them, and child labor should be banned.”
“But won’t the parents object to losing that income?”
“Not if the adults are paid what they’re worth.”
“Hmm…”
Iris stroked the rim of her wine glass, lost in thought. It struck Phineas suddenly that the last time he’d watched her thinking, he’d thought she looked eerily similar to her father. But he no longer thought this. Whenever he looked at his wife now, he saw only her. The resemblance to her father was gone.
He wondered if he had imagined it, or if he simply was starting to associate her thoughtful expression with her loveliness and intelligence and not her father’s villainy.
“We could probably report to the authorities the unsafe working conditions of the mines,” Iris suggested after a moment. “Get inspectors out here from the government. Even alert child labor charities in London. They could picket the mine, make running it so unprofitable and cumbersome that he gives it up—or at least sells it to someone better.”
He leaned forward so that no one around them could hear him. They weren’t alone in the dining room, although the other diners were giving them a wide berth. Most, he suspected, had never seen a duke and duchess before.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Phineas said, impressed by her astute thinking.
Iris smiled and picked up her fork again. All night, she’d been picking at her meal, unable to eat. Now, she finally began to eat in earnest, and Phineas was glad to see some color return to her cheeks. She looked so beautiful when her pale cheeks were stained red from happiness, embarrassment, or…
Phineas swallowed. He couldn’t let himself think about how else he’d like to see his wife blush scarlet.
“You really thought I didn’t care about the miners?” he asked, trying to force himself not to let his mind wander in a dangerous direction.
She blushed, and his thoughts immediately became unwholesome again.
“I didn’t know what to think,” she admitted. “There are not many wealthy dukes who would spare a thought for poor, miserable miners. And especially dukes with…”
“With my reputation?” he finished, trying not to sound resentful.
She looked up sharply, clearly afraid she had offended him, and he gave her his most ironic state. She laughed.
“You are not exactly known for your kindness and generosity,” she pointed out. “Although in the days since our wedding, I have never seen you act in any way that would justify the cruel rumors about you.”
Her gaze was soft, and Phineas felt the back of his neck tingle. “You know I have ruined people,” he muttered, his voice a low rumble. “You once accused me of bankrupting innocent men.”
“Yes… but if they were anything like my father, then I know now that they deserved it.”
“They did. But It’s important you know this about me, Iris. I am not a saint.”
She stuck her chin out defiantly. “I know that. But I don’t want you to be a saint. I just want you to be open with me.”
“I am open,” he said, a little taken aback. “Open enough.”
