Page 8 of The Swindler’s Daughter

“You look frazzled,” she observed.

“Oh. I’m fine. Just got distracted in the village and worried I’d be late getting back.” That was mostly true, I told myself to justify the lie.

“Well then, you can start making the crust for this meat-and-vegetable pie.”

A task. That was precisely what I needed, and I was grateful for the chance to practice. Pie crusts were something Emeline had taught me how to make over the past year, but I still struggled with having them turn out well every time.

I gathered ingredients and worked to the sound of Emeline’s humming in the background. My knot of worry and stress slowly eased.

She checked my progress a couple times, silently looking over my shoulder.

“Do you not trust me with this task?” I teased.

“Of course I do, but this is the family’s last week here before they’re gone for months, and I’m determined to feed them well.”

“You’re always determined to feed them well, and you always do.”

A high-pitched wail echoed through the house for just a moment. Emeline let out a sigh. “It’s going to be very quiet around here without the girls causing trouble.”

She was right. I would miss the sound of little voices and little feet. I’d even gotten used to the baby’s cries.

***

The usual sound of Falstone’s morning training session filled the air as I pulled water from the well. The clashing of wooden practice swords and the patient words of instruction were part of Sutton Manor’s cadence.

“Let’s go again,” I heard Tyson demand of Oliver.

Gretchen and Ansel ran by, their swords forgotten since Gretchen had challenged Ansel to a footrace.

As the heavy laden bucket was nearing the top of the well, I felt someone’s eyes on me. When I looked up, it didn’t take long to realize it was Johnny giving me one furtive look after another.

I pressed my lips in agitation and heaved the bucket higher, grabbing onto it and pouring its contents into the basin I’d brought out. When I looked up again, Johnny was staring. I narrowed my eyes, glaring fiercely. I still couldn’t believe he would be so brazen that he’d turn to thieving. He worked in the house of the duke’s family; surely they paid him a good wage!

As I set the full basin on the ground, Johnny stepped away from the little group of trainees and closer to me, waving as if he wanted me to cross the distance between us.

I didn’t. I planted a hand on my hip and stood right there by the well, waiting.

He seemed to realize I wasn’t going to move and crossed to me instead, his expression far more hopeful and far less guilty than it should be—and that irked me. “Do you, uh,” he started when he was close enough, “have something for me?” He spoke out of the corner of his mouth.

“No.” My voice was flat and angry.

His eyes turned worried as he looked at me. “I really do need it back, Miri.”

“Need what back, exactly?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest as I narrowed my eyes at him.

“The bundle I gave you,” he said quietly. “We need it back.”

“The bundle? Don’t you mean the pouch of money you stole?”

He had the audacity to heave a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Miri. The pouch. Rowan and I need it back. Do you have it with you or not?”

“Do you really think that I would be stupid enough to keep a jangling purse of coins in my pocket? I’m not an idiot.”

“Right. Where is it, then?”

“In the woods,” I said, nodding toward the trees.

“Where in the woods?” he snipped at me.