The Conundrum of a Clerk

by Sande, Linda Rae

  Daisy nodded. “Week after next. Mrs. Streater arranged for someone from the British Cast Plate Glass Company to follow the roofers.” She pulled that estimate from the stack in the folder and showed it to him.

  Alarms bells started going off in Teddy’s head. The British Cast Plate Glass Company made plate glass panes for the homes of the very wealthy.

  His mother had saved an enormous amount of money prior to her death.

  Money he had thought she had in her account because she was a miser.

  What if his mother hadn’t been a miser at all, but a responsible business owner who merely saved what she needed to pay for the repairs to Warwick’s? To pay for the replacement of old crown glass windows in favor of new glass panes? To pay for new roofs and who knew what else?

  There were those who talked of the finishing school being a bit on the shabby side, what with the broken windows and sagging roofs, chipped paint and banged up front doors. Only the landscaping looked in good shape, so that those who passed in their carriages and town coaches would probably miss the worst of Warwick’s less noticeable troubles.

  “Your mother wasn’t a miser, was she?” Daisy asked in a whisper, noting how Teddy seemed deep in thought, his expression one of contrition.

  He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Apparently not,” he agreed, managing to keep his voice from displaying too much despair.

  “You mentioned you had inherited a sum from her. I don’t mean to pry, Mr. Streater, but is it enough to cover all these costs?” Daisy pointed at the column of numbers. At the bottom, she had added the total in her own hand.

  Nine-thousand, nine-hundred, and eighty-two pounds.

  “I finally confirmed just who these vendors at the bottom are.” She pointed to the pasteboard folder. “Gas lighting, carpet, locks—”

  “Locks?”

  “Door locks, yes. Apparently they don’t always do their job,” Daisy explained. “There’s also the refinishing of the ballroom floor. Given the colorman will be coming after the windows are complete, and Miss Betterman mentioned the ballroom floor was to be refinished, once classes are done for the summer season, I have to believe your mother has already arranged for these other repairs to be done as well,” Daisy said with a sigh.

  His heart hammering in his chest, Teddy thought of the new furniture that had been delivered to his bedchamber that morning. Thought of the tailor and the additional suits of clothing he had ordered. The boots. The shoes and cologne. But most of all, he thought of the glossy black Tillbury that would be built to his specifications over the course of the next few months. “It was,” he hedged. He glanced over at her.

  Daisy lowered her eyes back down to the ledger and nearly fell into her chair. “Does this mean you have to let me go?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  Teddy shook his head, rather stunned by the question. “No. Not at all. I can pay for all of it,” he promised, thinking that he worked at a bank. Surely he could arrange some sort of loan if necessary. “Besides, we’ll have tuition money coming in.”

  Daisy brightened. “With the repairs, Warwick’s will be more appealing. Perhaps more cits will be encouraged to enroll their daughters,” she offered, remembering that Ariel Grandby had four younger sisters. The middle class and wealthy traders in London were always in search of ways to elevate their stations in life. Arranging for their daughters to attend an elite finishing school could only help their cause.

  Then she remembered her dowry.

  Her inheritance.

  So far, she had only withdrawn the interest from the account her father had set up in her name. He always intended for her future husband to claim the funds.

  But what if she used some of it to help with the repairs?

  “Mr. Streater,” she murmured, noting how sad and broken the man appeared just then. His right arm—or rather his wooden one—wasn’t even evident, either, as he stood with his left side aimed in her direction. “Would you consider a partnership of sorts?” she asked as she looked up from the ledger.

  Teddy regarded her with furrowed brows. “Partnership?” he repeated, his eyes widening as he grasped her meaning. “With whom?” he asked then, suddenly suspicious.

  Daisy thinned her lips. “Me,” she finally said. “I have... I have some funds my father left me. For a dowry. But since I haven’t married, and I’m well past my majority, I can use the money for whatever I wish.”

  His eyes widening, Teddy stared at her. “Is that how you can afford such beautiful furnishings in your apartment?” he asked.

  It was Daisy’s turn to blink. “I... I didn’t actually buy those,” she admitted, a bit sheepishly. “I... I helped myself to those furnishings. Some were from my bedchamber in Kent and the rest were from here in London,” she explained. “But father said they were mine to do with as I wished, so... I took them when I moved out of his house Monday last.”

  Teddy regarded her with an expression of amusement. “It’s a bit of a relief to hear you say that. I was afraid you might have borrowed against your future earnings here at the school and owed a money lender a huge deal of blunt. With interest,” he said with a sigh of relief.

  Her eyes rounding in shock, Daisy was about to admonish him for thinking such a thing. Instead, she said, “I would never!” Remembering he was a clerk at a bank, she supposed he would assume the worst when it came to such displays of wealth.

  Teddy shrugged. “Well, I know that now,” he replied before he sighed. He indicated she should sit, and then he moved to the other side of the desk and took the chair opposite of hers. “What kind of partnership are you proposing?” he asked. The word had him thinking he should simply propose to her. Marrying her would gain him the dowry, but he was sure she would never agree to such an arrangement. He was missing an arm. No gently bred woman would wish to marry an old fogey like him.

  “Certainly not equal, of course,” Daisy replied. “A small percentage of Warwick’s. Do you have any idea of the school’s total worth?” she asked, mentally adding up the possible sale prices of the boarding houses and the two classroom buildings, given their location in Glasshouse Street. As for how much the school was worth—future tuition receipts and the value of the classes offered—she couldn’t begin to determine that particular number.

  Or could she?

  Embarrassed to admit he did not know the worth of the finishing school, Teddy allowed a shrug. “I can sort it, of course. Have an agent work out the particulars as far as the value of the buildings are concerned,” he replied. “Add up the annual tuition receipts and subtract the expenses. Determine the annual profit.”

  But Daisy was already adding all those figures in her head. In the past few days, she had studied every ledger—income and expenses. Having to teach arithmetic had reminded her how to quickly add and subtract. How to multiply and divide. How to determine percentages. “I will invest five-thousand pounds in exchange for fifteen percent of the school,” she stated, deciding to err on the side of caution. That would leave forty-five thousand pounds in her inheritance account. If Mr. Streater made a counter-proposal, she decided she would offer no more than another five-thousand, perhaps for a larger share of the school.

  Teddy blinked. And blinked again. “You have that kind of blunt?” he asked in alarm.

  Daisy almost admitted her father was a duke just then. How else would she have a dowry of fifty-thousand pounds? An investment of five-thousand pounds in the school wouldn’t make much of a dent in her account, but she knew Ariley would be well aware of the expenditure after it was removed. His banker would no doubt send him a letter advising him of the transaction.

  “I do,” Daisy replied carefully. “Since I don’t expect to marry, the funds are mine to do with as I wish,” she reminded him.

  Teddy sighed, and then shook his head. “I cannot accept,” he replied. At her widened eyes, he added, “What if all the repairs are made and no one enrolls next Season?” he asked rhetorically. “Your investment would be forfeit. Lost.”


  Daisy frowned. “We’ve already discussed how enrollment will increase as a result of the repairs, and besides, the buildings are worth the majority of the value, Mr. Streater,” she replied, as if lecturing a failing math student. “At least eighty-percent. Mayhap closer to ninety-percent once the repairs are complete,” she argued.

  A marriage proposal was on the tip of his tongue just then. Did the woman have any idea just how erotic such talk of percentages and value was to him? How exciting it was to learn she knew of such things? That she could add and subtract? Multiply and divide? Why, she could probably compute fractions! Maybe even to three decimal places!

  His cock was thoroughly engorged and throbbing with the thought.

  But more important, did she have any idea just how positively gorgeous she looked sitting at the huge, mahogany desk? Despite her petite stature, she managed to appear seven feet tall sitting behind it. Perhaps she was perched atop a stack of books, for how else could it be he was gazing at her from below her eye level?

  Unless his chair was considerably lower?

  That was it, of course. His mother had chosen this particular chair for that very purpose! To make any visitor to her office feel small.

  Teddy closed his eyes a moment in an effort to concentrate on her offer. Her rather generous offer. An offer that would allow him to pay for all the repairs and still leave him with enough to cover his recent expenditures on the luxury items that were on order. For the furniture that had just been delivered to his townhouse earlier that morning.

  “I accept your offer,” he said, rather relieved when his voice didn’t come out sounding like a croaking frog.

  A slow smile spread over Daisy’s face. “We should have a solicitor draw up the papers, of course,” she said. “Unless you have one of your own, there is one I know of in Oxford Street,” she hedged.

  “Mr. Barton, perhaps?” he countered. “Next door to ‘Finding Work for the Wounded’?”

  Daisy continued to smile. “Indeed.”

  “I shall see to it first thing Monday morning,” Teddy said, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

  Remembering George’s invitation to share the Bostwick box for Saturday evening’s performance, he asked, “In the meantime, I do hope you are still amenable to attending the theatre tomorrow night? The Bostwicks are counting on it. I expect the tea will be done by four o’clock, which should give us enough time to change and be at the theatre by half-past six,” he reasoned.

  Daring a glance at the invitation she had received Wednesday last from Lady Bostwick, Daisy had a thought the viscountess was playing at matchmaker. Surely she would have known her husband had extended the same invitation to Teddy. “I am delighted, of course,” she replied, thinking she had at least one appropriate gown for the theatre. “As we discussed this past Wednesday, I will bring my gown with me to the tea, and shall change clothes at Bostwick Place,” she explained.

  “As will I,” Teddy said then, wondering why a grin suddenly lit her face and caused a dimple to appear. Then he remembered she had mentioned a gown, and he gave a shake of his head. “I’ll be bringing my formal clothes, of course,” he amended.

  Daisy gazed at him for a long time. “I have looked forward to it these past two days,” she said quietly. She inhaled then, and asked, “What of tomorrow afternoon, though? Do I need to have anything prepared to say to our teachers? Or will you see to their welcome and words about their continued employment? I know at least two are concerned for their futures.”

  Teddy watched her lips as she said the words he knew he should have said. He was the host of the tea scheduled for the following day, after all. “Will you help? I fear I am terrible at such things,” he said in a quiet voice.

  A shiver ran down Daisy’s spine. However was she going to sit next to this man for an entire afternoon and then again for several hours in the evening whilst they attended the theatre? Sit next to him and not reach out to touch the back of his hand? Not turn it over so that she could draw circles with her fingertip in his palm. Grasp his fingers with her own so they might eventually intertwine?

  She could imagine him grasping her hand and holding it well above her head whilst she writhed on his bed, his lips suckling her flattened breast just before he plunged his throbbing manhood into her wet, warm cocoon, her womanhood having been sweetly tortured with his tongue and lips.

  The moment before she imagined an intense wave of pleasure crashing through her body, Daisy realized Teddy was staring at her, his gaze suggesting he might be thinking something similar.

  “I’ll help, of course,” she managed to get out, her breaths far too quick. If she wasn’t careful, she would faint.

  “I’d like that,” Teddy replied. He finally tore his gaze from hers and dared a glance in the direction of the door that led to her bedchamber. He almost—almost—suggested they move their discussion to the elegant room, but reason and sanity returned.

  Miss Albright was the headmistress of his school. She was about to become his partner in the school. The very last thing he should be doing is imagining her playing the role of his mistress.

  “I should take my leave. See if I can’t prepare a few words,” he said, his breaths coming far too quickly. If he wasn’t careful, he would faint. He stood up, his top hat moving to cover the evidence of his erection. “I will see you tomorrow, Miss Albright. Good day.” He managed a bow to Daisy’s curtsy and then took his leave of Omega House.

  Daisy settled back into her chair and allowed a long sigh. At least she hadn’t been alone in her state of arousal, for she knew Mr. Streater had been in a similar state. She had seen the evidence of it whilst he stood next to her at the desk, his manhood pushing out the placket of his breeches. His arousal continued even after he took the chair opposite the desk, although it was hidden from her once he sat down. When he stood up, he held his top hat directly in front of his crotch, a clear indication he was still hard.

  The thought had her breasts tingling once again.

  Which had her wondering if perhaps she needed to do something with regard to their partnership.

  Change the terms, perhaps?

  Chapter 30

  A Visit from a Very Sorry Man

  Later that night

  When the knock came at the door of Alpha House, Charity Crofter was the only teacher in residence. Jane Betterman and Annabelle Anders had left for dinner at one of the other boarding houses, and Mrs. Fitzgerald had just departed in a hackney for her trip to the Drury Lane Theatre for that night’s rehearsal of The Brutus.

  The man who stood on the other side of the door knew all this, of course. He had been watching the house for the past half-hour, waiting for an opportunity to speak with Charity—alone.

  When she opened the door, Charity expected one of the other teachers to claim she had left behind a shawl or pelisse. The last person she expected to see was Nicholas Barnaby, top hat in hand, looking as if he had lost his best friend.

  Perhaps he had.

  Charity’s first inclination was to slam the door shut. And she would have, but her visitor was quick with his words. “I came to apologize,” he said, before adding, “I don’t expect forgiveness, but I do need to explain what happened.”

  Frowning, Charity took a step back. Nicholas angled his head, as if he wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “You look... different,” Charity said, taking another step back. There was a white scar along one side of his face that hadn’t been there when they were betrothed. And he looked as if he had lost some weight. She indicated with a wave that he could come in—she certainly didn’t want him standing out on the stoop where anyone passing by could see him.

  “You look more beautiful than I remember,” he countered, stepping into the vestibule but stopping just inside the door. Charity had made it clear they wouldn’t be moving to the parlor given the way she stood before him. “I’ve missed you terribly, Miss Crofter.”

  Not about to be swayed by his words, Cha
rity angled her head and crossed her arms. “You said you were here to explain,” she replied in a voice that warned she had no patience for him.

  Nicholas dipped his head. “The night before we were to wed, I was pressed into service. The army. Again,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I thought I was all done with soldiering, but they found me, and the next thing I knew, I was on a ship bound for France at daybreak. I was on a battlefield the following day.” He allowed a long sigh.“I was going to write—”

  “Then why didn’t you?” Charity interrupted, her eyes wide. From her expression, Nicholas couldn’t tell if she was angry or sorry for what had happened to him.

  “I was wounded. By a.. by a bayonet,” he stuttered as he indicated the facial scar with a wave of a finger. His hand continued to wave down the front of his body as his face screwed into a wince. He cleared his throat. “I was cut up bad, and, well, I didn’t think you’d want me,” he whispered. “The field doctor... he stitched me up where I’d been stabbed, but he didn’t do nearly as fine a job of it as you would have.”

  Charity stared up at Nicholas, her mouth slowly dropping open in shock. She blinked. “You should have written,” she whispered. “You should have allowed me to decide if I wanted you or not,” she added just before tears filled her eyes.

  “Oh, don’t cry,” Nicholas said as he struggled to fish a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket. “I’m hardly worth it,” he added as pressed the linen to her face.

  Giving her head a shake, Charity covered his hand with one of her own. “No, you’re not, you big dolt,” she agreed, before she sniffled.

  “Anyway, I’ve been keeping watch in the mornings. Across the street. To be sure you make it to your classroom safely,” he went on. “I don’t know what I would do should something happen to you.”

  Charity gasped. “That’s you?” she replied, her shock apparent as her teary eyes widened. “They think you’re plotting to kidnap one of the girls,” she claimed.