Page 77 of The Swindler’s Daughter

My heart flew into my throat. Was he…agreeing with us?

His jaw was set as he continued with conviction. “They would not have had to go to such extremes if I had been a better ruler.”

The duchess stepped forward and wrapped her hands around the duke’s arm, suddenly all soft and solicitous. “You are a fine ruler,” she insisted.

He shook his head. “No,” he said as his shoulders sank just a little. “No, I’m not. I haven’t been for a long time. Not since Damian died. I let that loss change me.” He took a harsh breath, shaking his head. “And it’s inexcusable.”

“You’ll make it right,” the duchess crooned. “Edmund will help us make it right.”

The duke nodded. “Yes, he will.”

I felt like a spy or an eavesdropper, like I was listening in on a conversation not meant for me. It was strange indeed to watch the interaction of the duke’s family. Did they not realize that they were having this very private conversation in front of us?

Not only that, but it felt like we were getting off topic. We’d just confessed to several crimes, which included having the highest authority of the village locked up in the sitting room. I would expect the duke and duchess to deal with us swiftly and with prejudice, but they seemed too distracted by their own bitterness and familial conflict.

So strange.

“And what is to be done with them?” It was one of the guards who finally asked the question that brought the situation back to the topic at hand. The duke’s attention returned to us and I tensed, terrified but desperate to know so that I could stop wondering what the punishment would be.

The duke’s gaze was thoughtful while his duchess’s eyes were cold.

No one said a word, and we just waited and waited. Until…

“Nothing,” the duke said.

My heart stopped. Surely I hadn’t heard that right.

“Nothing?” the duchess asked, confused.

“Nothing?” the guard repeated.

The duke nodded, and I could barely breathe for the shock of it.

“They’re thieves!” the duchess reminded him.

The duke looked at our little group, his penetrating gaze landing on each one of us, then said to my profound shock, “They should be commended.”

Commended??

No one spoke, but my respect for the Duke of Winberg ballooned and overflowed in that moment. Here was a man who had not let his power turn to greed or cruelty. Here was a man in power I might be able to respect.

“What kind of leader would I be if I punished those who saw injustice and not only recognized it but did something about it?” he asked, his voice strong so that all could hear. “I cannot be everywhere. I have to hope and trust that those who have risen to positions of authority will honor their power and do right by me.” He turned to his wife. “You saw the letter from Father Tucker. Everything they have said agrees with his report.” He turned back to us. “Magistrate Reeve abused his power, and as I said, there will be punishment for that. The system broke down. You didn’t have to take his responsibility. This wasn’t your fight. Yet you did what the men appointed to those positions would not do. You put the welfare of my people first. Despite the danger it posed to you, you did what needed to be done.”

My eyes flooded and my breath heaved in relief.

“Perhaps some will think it unjust, but I am pardoning every one of you. Because it would be the height of injustice to punish those who delivered so many of my subjects from great harm.”

18

The duke made his proclamation of pardon and then turned his back on us and walked away. Perhaps that was the way of things when you ruled a nation, but it felt incongruous. He’d made a grand speech, praising us for what we’d done, pardoning our every crime. And then he’d simply turned his back, given orders to his guards for how to deal with the magistrate and his men, and then he’d left.

He and his wife and his son and his guards—the entire entourage. They all just walked away. The only person who paused to look back at us was a young woman—a lady’s maid, if I had to guess. Her golden hair tucked neatly under her cap winked in the candlelight as she stared at us, her head tilted, her eyes curious.

“Melody?” a voice called out.

She turned in the direction of the woman who had called her and quickly followed after the duke’s entourage.

The five of us didn’t move. We seemed to be collectively holding our breath, waiting for the duke to declare his pardon as a grand joke and order his guards to put us in irons.