Wicked Intentions 1
from a wide forehead, and sharp brown eyes. “Good morning to you, Mary Whitsun.”
    Mary bobbed a curtsy. “Good morning, Mrs. Hollingbrook.”
    Silence entered the narrow hall and hung up her shawl. “Is my sister about?”
    “Ma’am is in the kitchen,” Mary said.
    Silence smiled. “I’ll find her, then.”
    Mary nodded solemnly and marched up the stairs to whatever work she’d been interrupted at.
    Silence hoisted the flat-bottomed basket she’d brought and walked back to the kitchens. “Good morning!” she called as she entered.
    Temperance turned from a huge pot boiling over the fire. “Good morning, sister! What a nice surprise. I didn’t know you were to call today.”
    “I wasn’t.” Silence felt her cheeks heat guiltily. She hadn’t been to the home in over a week. “But I boughtsome dried currants at market this morning and thought I’d bring some over.”
    “Oh, how thoughtful! Mary Whitsun will like that,” Temperance said. “She has a fondness for currant buns.”
    “Mmm.” Silence set the basket on the old kitchen table. “She seems to have grown another inch since I last saw her.”
    “She has indeed.” Temperance wiped at the sweat on her temples with her apron. “And she’s quite lovely, though I don’t tell her so to her face. I don’t want her to become vain.”
    Silence smiled as she uncovered the basket. “You sound proud.”
    “Do I?” Temperance asked absently. She’d turned back to the steaming pot.
    “Yes.” Silence hesitated a moment before continuing apologetically. “She’s of age to apprentice out, isn’t she?”
    “Yes. Almost past the age, in fact.” Temperance sighed. “But she’s of such use about the home. I haven’t begun looking for a position for her yet.”
    Silence took the items from her basket without comment. Temperance knew better than she that becoming too fond of the foundling children could only lead to hurt.
    “You’ve got more than currants there,” Temperance said, coming to the table.
    “I brought some stockings I made as well.” Silence shyly presented her workmanship—three pairs of tiny stockings. True, none of them were quite the same size as the other, but at least they matched in shape. More or less. “I was making a pair for William and some wool remained.”
    “Oh, my.” Temperance set her hands on her hips andarched her back, stretching. “I’d quite forgotten that Captain Hollingbrook was to return soon.”
    Silence felt the ripple of quiet joy spread through her at just the mention of her husband’s name. William had been away at sea for months, captaining the Finch , a merchant ship returning from the West Indies.
    She ducked her head as she replied to her sister. “He’s due any day now. I hoped that when he returns, you and Winter would come and sup with us in celebration.”
    When Temperance didn’t respond immediately, Silence looked up. Her sister was frowning down at a pile of turnips on the table.
    “What is it?” Silence asked.
    “What?” Temperance glanced up quickly, her face smoothing. “Oh, nothing, dear. You know Winter and I would be pleased to dine with you and Captain Hollingbrook. It’s just that we’re so busy with the home right now….” Her words trailed away as she looked about the big kitchen.
    “Perhaps, then, it is time to hire more help. Nell works hard, but she’s only one woman.”
    Temperance laughed, but the sound was hard and short. “If we had a patron to supply the home with money, we would. As it is, we were just able to finally pay this month’s rent and last’s today. If we’re late again, Mr. Wedge may well evict us.”
    “What?” Silence sank into a kitchen chair. “I have nearly a pound left from my grocery money. Would that help?”
    Temperance smiled. “No, dear. That would only help us for a little while, and I don’t want to take Captain Hollingbrook’s money. I know how you and he scrimp and save.”
    Silence colored a little. William was a

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