by Laura Martin
‘Mrs Henderson,’ Harry said, taking the woman’s proffered hand. ‘It has been too long.’
‘You must tell me,’ Mrs Henderson said, flashing a smile at Lady Fortescue, ‘how you managed to catch such a fine man as Lord Edgerton. I have an unmarried daughter and the best offer we’ve had so far is from the local vicar.’
From many women there would have been at least a hint of envy, but Mrs Henderson was a cheerful, unjudgemental soul who wouldn’t begrudge a young couple’s happiness.
‘I have to confess I have no idea how it happened,’ Lady Fortescue said softly.
At least she wasn’t denying their engagement to anyone who would listen now. It would work out much better if they could pretend to be promised to one another for a month or two and then quietly break off the engagement. Harry was under no illusion that they would be able to avoid a scandal completely, but at least it would be at a moment of their own choosing.
‘I will leave you to continue your walk,’ Mrs Henderson said, ‘without the interruptions of a nosy old lady.’
‘It is always a pleasure, Mrs Henderson.’
‘The entirety of London society will know we have been out walking together by the end of the evening,’ Lady Fortescue said with a shake of her head, following Mrs Henderson’s departure with her solemn grey eyes. ‘I don’t understand why people are so interested in the lives of others.’
‘Boredom and human nature,’ Harry said with a shrug. Gently he guided Lady Fortescue over to a bench situated just in front of a small pond. ‘Let me help you.’
‘How? Why?’
‘You’re not very trusting.’ It was said in jest, but he felt his companion stiffen next to him. ‘Let me help you get to the bottom of who is sending you those packages, who is threatening you,’ he ploughed on quickly.
‘I’m sure you have much better things to be doing with your time.’
‘Give me six weeks. If I haven’t found out who is behind the threats by then, I will admit defeat.’
Six weeks should be plenty of time to find the culprit. Harry had spent five years in the army and, although he had fought in his share of skirmishes, most of the time he had been deployed to gather information, to blend in with the locals and uncover any plots and plans. Those were skills you never lost once acquired and it had been a while since Harry had been given a challenge like this.
‘Why would you?’ Lady Fortescue asked, turning those searching grey eyes on Harry and making him feel as though she were staring past his face and into his mind.
‘No one should have to live in fear. No one should have to endure what you are enduring every single day.’
There was more to it than that, but Harry couldn’t tell Lady Fortescue he’d seen the same desperate expression she’d had on her face when the package had arrived before. That in the weeks after his sister had been humiliated and shamed he’d seen that emptiness, that desperation. He had failed Lydia in her time of need and the results had been almost fatal—he would not let another woman suffer alone.
‘Let me consider the idea,’ she said.
‘Shall I call on you tomorrow?’
‘I have some business to conduct in the morning, but perhaps you would care to dine with us at lunchtime.’
‘Perfect. I will look forward to it.’
Instinctively he raised her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over the knuckles. Although she concealed it well, Harry sensed her discomfort at even this most innocent of contact. Moving away, he wondered just what had happened to Lady Fortescue to make her so averse to human touch.
Chapter Four
‘There’s been a problem, ma’am,’ Billy Godden said as he rapped on the door and strode into the office, his face grim.
‘Tell me, Billy.’
‘Reports of a storm off the coast of Portugal. The Tildenhall Shipping Company have lost three ships, the London Shipping Company two and there are rumours many more have gone down.’
Anna closed her eyes for a few seconds, trying to digest this newest disaster that had befallen the company since she had taken over managing it.
‘Both the Lady Magdalene and the Norfolk were scheduled to be sailing along the coast of Portugal.’ Anna stood and crossed to the shelving unit on the opposite wall, running her fingers along the handwritten labels until she came to the correct one. Quickly she pulled out a large map, unrolled it and laid it on her desk. ‘Where did the storm hit?’
Billy took his time, consulting a small notebook and tracing his fingers over the map before pointing out an area just to the south of the city of Porto.
Trying to keep calm, Anna opened the ledgers that contained the details of the routes and cargos of the two ships.
‘If on schedule, the Norfolk should be out of danger—it is due to round the Cabo de Roca tomorrow.’
‘And the Lady Magdalene?’
Tracing the predicted route with her finger, Anna grimaced.
‘There have been no sightings?’ she asked. ‘No reports of it docking in Lisbon for repairs?’ she asked hopefully.
‘Nothing, ma’am.’
Resisting the urge to sink to the floor in despair, Anna rolled up the map and then focused on the details in the ledger. Twenty-four sailors were aboard the Lady Magdalene—she just hoped they were unharmed.
‘Send out messages to anyone who might have information and see if you can persuade one of your men they might like a trip to Portugal to investigate if there are no sightings within the week. I will deal with the clients.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
Once she was alone Anna allowed her body to sag. The loss of a ship was devastating for any shipping company, but many of the larger outfits could withstand one loss here and there. The Trevels Shipping Company was still in its infancy. After the death of Lord Fortescue, the only thing his children had not contested was her ownership of the small shipping company her second husband had owned and run into the ground. When Anna had revived it she’d barely hoped that they would survive a year, but slowly they were emerging from the piles of debts and starting to make a small and hard-won profit. A disaster like this could cripple them.
Straightening up, Anna closed the ledger. She would not overreact. As yet there was no evidence the Lady Magdalene had sunk. The captain was experienced and knew how to handle a ship in a storm, and the ship itself was one of their newer vessels.
With a glance at the clock that hung above the fireplace Anna grimaced. Already she was late for lunch and now she had to compile a list of the clients whose goods were aboard the Lady Magdalene and decide when to contact them. Quickly she scribbled a note, explaining the delay to her uncle. Uncle Phillip had never tried to control her movements, never quibbled when she was called out to attend to business or missed the odd meal here or there, but he did worry if she didn’t inform him that she would be delayed. The office for the shipping company was situated in the docks, not the most salubrious of areas, and although Anna had become used to most of the more colourful characters, she still ensured she never walked alone outside the office.
‘Lady Fortescue, hard at work as usual, I see.’ A large man burst through the door without knocking.
Anna forced a smile. Roger Maltravers ran the biggest and most profitable shipping company in London and had his office situated on the other side of the docks, the more prosperous side, but that didn’t stop his frequent visits to the offices of the Trevels Shipping Company.
‘I’ve said it a thousand times and I’ll say it again, not proper work for a woman, this shipping business. And certainly not one as lovely as you.’ As he spoke he wandered around the office, fingering charts and ledgers, peering at the maps on the walls.
Anna clenched her teeth together to try to hide her irritation. It wasn’t that she disliked Roger Maltravers, but she didn’t particularly like him either. He was too effusive, too sur
e of himself, and ever since her company had started to have a modicum of success he’d been trying to persuade her to join her company with his.
‘Awful storm off Portugal, I hear,’ he said casually.
‘So I am told,’ Anna said, wondering if he didn’t notice the coolness in her voice or if he just ignored it.
‘Could be devastating if you lost one of your ships.’
‘We have insurance.’
‘Crafty scoundrels, you’ll never see a penny back.’ He paused and Anna knew what was coming next. It was the same every week, had been for the past six months. ‘You wouldn’t have to worry your pretty head about issues like this if you married me. I would look after you.’
Anna stood, smoothing down her skirts.
‘A very kind offer, Mr Maltravers, but I am a widow three times over and have resolved not to marry again.’
‘Dastardly shame.’
‘My mind is made up.’
‘You need a man to look after you.’
‘I have my uncle.’
‘You need a husband.’
Anna felt the irritation bubbling inside, straining for release. She’d had three husbands and not one of them had looked after her, not really. The only person she could truly rely on was herself.
‘It doesn’t sit well with me the idea of a vulnerable young woman alone in the world. There are bad people out there, people ready to take advantage. I only want to protect you, Lady Fortescue.’
‘I have a lot of work to do today, Mr Maltravers, please excuse me.’
She crossed to the door and opened it for him.
‘I shall call on you tomorrow,’ Mr Maltravers said as he left reluctantly, calling over his shoulder, ‘Think about what I’ve said.’
Anna resisted the urge to slam the door behind him, instead closing it softly and resting her forehead on the cool wood. She knew it was beyond unusual for a woman to run a business, let alone a shipping company. She was one woman in a world full of men, but there was absolutely no way she would ever give up her freedom and her independence again.
* * *
Harry frowned as he strolled through the docks, keeping his wits sharp and his pace brisk. The area wasn’t the worst in London, but it wasn’t far off. Surely he must have the address wrong, surely Lady Fortescue’s uncle hadn’t meant to send him here?
He’d arrived for lunch at Mr Tenby’s residence at the agreed time, only to find Lady Fortescue hadn’t returned home. Her uncle wasn’t overly concerned and Harry got the impression this was a regular occurrence.
Rather than dine without his fiancée, Harry had offered to go and find her and escort her home, hence his trip to the docks. When he’d made the offer he had assumed she was out shopping, or perhaps taking tea with a friend, not running a business in one of the most notorious parts of London. Lady Fortescue was becoming more interesting with every snippet of information he picked up about her.
Glancing at the piece of paper with the address, Harry started to ascend a rickety set of wooden stairs, having to pause on the way up to let a large man pass him on his way back to ground level.
Harry knocked on the door and was surprised when it was flung open immediately, with some force.
‘Mr Maltravers, I must insist...’ Lady Fortescue trailed off, her eyes widening in surprise. ‘Lord Edgerton,’ she managed after a few seconds.
‘Lady Fortescue.’ Harry bowed, trying to conceal a smile. He found he rather liked surprising his so-called fiancée.
‘I invited you to lunch,’ she said softly, a hand covering her lips. ‘And then didn’t turn up.’
‘A more sensitive man might be offended,’ Harry said, following her into the office and looking around him with interest.
‘You’re not offended?’
‘Your uncle tells me it happens all the time. Not forgetting guests, but forgetting meals.’
‘I don’t often have guests,’ Lady Fortescue said quietly.
He’d been in such offices before, when organising shipments or booking passage to the Continent, but usually they were run by weathered old men, men who looked like the sea had chewed them up and spat them out. They were not run by gently bred young ladies, even notorious widows.
‘This is your business?’ he asked eventually, studying a detailed map of the English Channel.
‘My late husband...’ Lady Fortescue paused and corrected herself, ‘My second late husband, Captain Trevels, owned this business. It came to me on his death and it was one of the few things I was allowed to keep possession of throughout my last marriage.’
‘It is an unusual business for a woman,’ Harry said bluntly.
Lady Fortescue smiled, not the usual, polite upturning of the corner of her lips, but a proper, full on smile of amusement.
‘You’re very direct, Lord Edgerton.’
‘Perhaps you should call me Harry. We are engaged after all.’
‘We’re pretending to be engaged,’ Lady Fortescue corrected, just in case he forgot. ‘Harry,’ she said his name quietly as if trying it out on her tongue. He saw the faintest of blushes blossom on her cheeks, gone before he could even be sure it was truly there.
He waited for her to offer her given name. He waited so long he began to wonder if she might insist he call her Lady Fortescue for the rest of their acquaintance.
‘My name is Anna.’
‘It is a very unusual business for a woman, Anna,’ Harry repeated.
She shrugged, that small movement that Harry was beginning to associate with his fiancée, and smiled. ‘Most men would say any business is a strange one for a woman.’
‘That’s very true.’ He saw her stiffen a little and leaned in closer. ‘But most men are fools,’ he said quietly. ‘Now, your uncle promised to save us some lunch, if you can spare an hour or two.’
She glanced at the pile of papers on the huge wooden desk and hesitated.
‘You’ll work more efficiently on a full stomach.’
‘A quick lunch,’ Anna conceded.
‘And you can tell me about the world of shipping.’
Chapter Five
As the music in the ballroom swelled above the chatter Anna found herself looking around in anticipation. Against her better judgement she had agreed to attend the Carmichael ball this evening, a ball that Lord Edgerton, Harry, would be making an appearance at, too.
She had been doing a lot of things against her better judgement these past few days: agreeing to this sham engagement just to avoid a little scandal, allowing Harry into her life and confiding in him about the malicious parcels she’d been receiving. After a long time spent being a meek and mild wife, Anna didn’t usually give in to anyone easily now she had her much wished-for freedom and independence, but Harry seemed to be able to get her to agree to anything with his confident persistence.
‘You’re thinking about him,’ Beatrice said breathlessly, sitting down beside her and taking a large gulp from the glass of lemonade Anna had been holding.
‘Who?’
‘Who?’ Beatrice laughed. ‘Your fiancé, who else?’
‘Fiancé in name only,’ Anna said, lowering her voice. She didn’t want her cousin to get carried away in a romantic fantasy.
‘For now. Admit you were thinking about him.’
‘Shouldn’t you find your partner for the next dance?’
‘Hah, I knew it. You were daydreaming about him.’
‘Beatrice Tenby, don’t be so ridiculous. I haven’t daydreamed about anything or anyone in the past five years.’
Handing the glass of lemonade back to her, Beatrice stood.
‘I don’t think you’re half as prim and proper as you make out.’ Beatrice flounced off, swishing her skirts and fluttering her eyelashes at any young man who glanced in her direction.
‘I do hope not,’ a low
voice said in her ear.
Anna stood abruptly, using all her self-control not to exclaim out loud. Lord Edgerton—Harry, she reminded herself—was standing directly behind her. He took her hand, bowing over it before straightening and giving her a wink.
‘It would seem we’re the centre of attention,’ Harry said quietly.
Nonchalantly Anna glanced to the left and right. Everyone around them was deeply engrossed in conversation. Too deeply engrossed. Behind the uninterested façade they were watching every move Harry and Anna made.
‘I trust you are well, Lord Edgerton,’ she said loud enough for the gossips to hear.
‘Very well, Lady Fortescue. Perhaps you will do me the honour of granting me this dance.’
Anna stiffened. She didn’t dance, at least not any more. Her role here was purely that of chaperon to Beatrice. She was expected to sit on the periphery of the ballroom, watch the young women dance and laugh and be merry, and hold the lemonade whenever her cousin retreated to the edges for a rest.
‘I’d wager you are a fabulous dancer.’
Once. Once she’d been as carefree and happy as Beatrice. She’d whirled across ballroom after ballroom, content to let her partner of the moment guide her, happy to trust a man she barely knew completely for those few minutes of the dance.
‘I don’t dance.’
Harry stepped back and regarded her. ‘I don’t believe you,’ he said finally.
‘You don’t believe me?’
‘I don’t believe you. You have more grace than a dancer in the ballet.’
He held out his hand, waiting for her to take it. There was no way she could refuse and a part of her felt a spark of excitement at the thought of dancing again.
Slowly she placed her hand in his and stood, allowing Harry to lead her to the dance floor. The last dance was just finishing, the dancers breathless and flushed from the quick steps to a lively tempo. There was a brief pause before the musicians struck up again, this time with the unmistakable first notes of a waltz.