The Reluctant Duchess

by Winchester, Catherine

  “Holding you is never an imposition,” he assured her. “Now, I’m willing to bet that you haven’t stopped all day correct?”

  “What makes you say that?” she asked.

  “His hands went to her hair, which still hung in loose curls down her back. “You didn’t put your hair up.”

  She smiled. “I keep the pins in my reticule, which I forgot to bring with me this morning.”

  “I thought it had to be something like that. Now,” he took her by the shoulders and led her to her desk chair. “You sit here and don’t move a muscle until I return.”

  “And what if I do?”

  “Then I shall lock you in here, got it?”

  Annabelle nodded, smiling at his protective behaviour and Richard stole a quick kiss before departing.

  Seeing him really had been quite a balm for her frazzled mood and she sat back in her chair and tried not to think of everything that she still had to do in the next few days. She wasn’t exactly successful but then, Richard wasn’t gone for long, reappearing a few moments later with a tray. He sat it on her desk and unloaded a pot of tea, cups, two bowls of stew, bread, cutlery and two slices of cake for dessert.

  “I’ll bet you haven’t eaten all day,” he said.

  “I haven’t felt hungry,” she admitted.

  “Still, you must eat.”

  He tucked into his portion and now that she had calmed down, Annabelle did feel hungry and began to eat her own.

  “So, what still needs doing?” he asked conversationally, knowing that what seemed overwhelming could seem a lot less daunting once discussed rationally.

  “Well,” she sighed. “I suppose first, I must get lots of candles; my supply from home probably won’t last the day and people will stop coming if they have to sit in pitch blackness. I have to see about getting another quote for the windows, of course, then organise for them to be replaced. I must speak to the staff this evening when we are all together and advise them of what’s happening. They can’t go out alone, for the time being at least. I did also wonder how practical it would be to get exterior shutters that I could lock. Barring anything else, it should be business as usual after that.” She didn’t mention pawning her necklace, which would have to be fairly high up on that list.

  “I can spare the time to purchase the candles for you,” Richard offered.

  Annabelle opened her mouth to protest, then remembered that he was her friend and wanted to help her.

  “Thank you, that would be very helpful.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” he smiled back, having noticed how she had rethought her knee-jerk rejection of his offer. “Would you like me to find a glazier to give another estimate on the windows?”

  “Do you know someone?”

  “No, but I have an architect friend who certainly would. He may even be able to get you a discount, given that he must be a frequent customer to some.”

  “I wouldn’t want to put him out, running around town on my behalf.”

  “You won’t be. If there’s any running to be done, I’ll do it.”

  A somewhat reluctant smile formed on her lips. “All right then, thank you.” If something happened to him or to their friendship, she was really going to miss having someone like him around. She had never known anyone who wanted to help her, just for the sake of helping her. She knew that she shouldn’t come to rely on his aid though, or she would be lost if he was gone from her life.

  “So, I don’t suppose you have any insurance on this place?” he asked.

  Annabelle shook her head. That was just one expense too many.

  Richard kept the conversation on the minutiae of the coffee house and only when she had finished eating and had a cup of tea, did he broach the subject of Frederick.

  “Did you tell the police about your brother?” he finally asked and watched as her face paled.

  She shook her head. “I doubt he did it himself, so it will be hard to prove.”

  “I agree, but we should still tell them of our suspicion.”

  Annabelle looked down at the desk. “It’s hard to relive that, Richard.”

  “Then you won’t have to. I’ll speak to them on your behalf, if you would prefer.”

  She didn’t much like anyone discussing it but she would rather he talk to them, than she confess her near rape to a group of strangers.

  “All right then.”

  Richard went to speak but hesitated.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “It’s just… well, I’m confused. This action makes little sense to me and I’m wondering if it could be part of a bigger plan.”

  “It makes no sense to me either,” she confessed. “Frederick is the kind of man to enjoy watching those he hurts; I’ve never known him to employ someone else to do his dirty work. But then, for all his faults I would not have thought him a vandal.”

  “Nor me,” he confessed.

  They lapsed into silence, until Richard realised that dwelling on this would do neither of them any good.

  “I suppose I should get on and see about those errands.”

  “Thank you for coming, Richard, and for helping.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  “And you are certain that your servants don’t mind helping me today?”

  “I am certain. Come on, let me introduce you to them.”

  He waited by the door for her but when he went to open it, she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  Slowly, as though frightened of making any sudden movements, she stretched up and kissed him softly. Her hands went to his hair and she ran her fingers through his unkempt locks as she deepened the kiss. Her insides felt as if they were alive and fluttering with pleasure at his touch. Her skin felt aflame with passion and she was certain that her cheeks must be a deep shade of red by now.

  It was he who pulled away first, seeming as deeply affected as she was.

  “You are a temptress,” he said softly.

  “I rather thought that it was you that was tempting me,” she confessed, a playful smile on her lips.

  “Then perhaps we are both guilty of being too tempting,” he teased.

  “Perhaps… You know, we really should be making a move shortly.”

  “I know.”

  “You will have to let me go for that to happen.”

  “Never!” he pulled her flush against him. “And besides, it is your hands that are curled in my hair, Lady Wyatt.”

  “So it is, but that’s your fault too.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yes. If you cut it to a decent length, I would have nothing to hold on to.”

  “I cannot argue with logic like that,” Richard laughed. “Perhaps just one more kiss to tide me over until I see you again?”

  “You men are never satisfied,” she rolled her eyes as she teased him. “Very well, I suppose I can endure one final kiss.”

  “Endure?” he asked, his eyes taking on a hard quality which rather reminded her of a wolf.

  Without warning, Richard turned her to the side and dipped her backwards, his lips hovering over her neck. He felt her pulse quicken with desire as he kissed her exposed neck, slowly making his way to her jaw bone, then onto her lips. This kiss was hard, passionate and full of the longing he felt and by the way she responded, he thought her equal passion signalled an equal longing.

  When he finally set her upright again, she looked dazed, which was exactly how he felt. He stepped away from her, backing towards the door.

  “If I do not leave now, I may never go.”

  Annabelle looked slightly panicked by the whole incident.

  “Yes, I think that is a very wise idea.”

  He was so aroused that it was almost painful, but he knew that Annabelle wasn’t ready for more. When he did first take her, he didn’t want it to be a rushed flight of passion either, but rather something they both decided that they wanted. It needed to be slow, tender, and definitely not over a desk or on a stone floor in her back office. She deserve
d so much better than that.

  He introduced her to Joan and Lily, the cook and kitchen maid, then left to run his errands. He hoped that Ada Braddock’s husband was still away, because he desperately needed some relief and soon.

  That night Annabelle went home and estimated her budget for the next six months. The household expenses, such as food and fuel, weren’t too bad and she and her staff already did their best to keep costs to a minimum. Taxes were another matter entirely. Between the water rates of (four pounds a year), the house-tax, the two window taxes, the poor’s-rate, the paving-tax (for repairing, cleaning, and lighting the streets) the tithes to the church and payment to the night-soil men, she was paying a small fortune in taxes.

  That wasn’t surprising however, just costly and unavoidable.

  She played around with the figures, seeing how much she could save if she didn’t light a fire in her bedroom, ceased to purchase candles for the home and bought cheaper produce but with this added expense of replacing the windows, she just couldn’t make her figures balance.

  Added to that, this was her quiet time of year. From January to July, when the wealthy came to town for the Season, was her busiest. A smaller Season ran from September to early November but her turnover never matched that of the first half of the year.

  Nothing she tried made much of a difference and she was now resigned to selling her necklace.

  At around noon the following day, Annabelle managed to slip away from the coffee house with the excuse of an errand. She headed straight to the pawn shop on Piccadilly Street, entering via the rear alley as many customers did.

  The pawnbroker, Mr Samuels, had seen her a few times now and she trusted him to give her a fair price. He always seemed a little sad to be buying her jewellery but he was first and foremost a businessman, so he never refused her business. He examined the gem, not to check that it was real, for he too trusted Annabelle but to see its clarity, which could affect the price. Then he weighed the gold chain on a fine set of scales and made her a fair offer.

  If she was careful, that would give her a cushion that could safely see her through two years or more, so Annabelle accepted, took the money, thanked him and left.

  The gem usually sat below the neckline of the front of her gowns, so no one noticed its absence, except for Richard. She lied and told him that she clasp was loose and so she had left it at home, where it would be safe.

  Chapter Eight

  Over the next few weeks, there were a number of strange incidents around the coffee house on Cockspur Street, but none that directly affected Annabelle.

  First the tobacconist, Mr Hargreaves was robbed and much of his stock stolen. Next Mrs Miller, who lived above the haberdashery with her husband, was brutally attacked. She was very seriously injured and no one was sure if she would survive for quite some time. Then Mr Adamson, the baker and Billy’s father, was attacked as he left his bakery one evening and the day’s takings stolen. Thankfully his injuries were not life threatening. The pet shop was vandalised and many animals let loose, some of them almost priceless exotic species. A lot were caught by locals over the next few days, such as the pair of marmosets but many others, like the song birds, were never recovered.

  Street crime also increased drastically, with many people reporting their purses stolen or being attacked in the street.

  Annabelle was just pleased that she hadn’t been affected again. Her windows had been replaced on Sunday, so it was business as usual again and although she couldn’t prove it and Richard denied it, she thought that a bribe might have been instrumental in getting the work done on a Sunday.

  Finally in the second week of September, the water pipes to the coffee house and the house above burst, as well as the pipes to three other houses in the row. It was too early for frost to be the cause so they knew it must have been sabotage.

  The police were involved, of course. They had arrested a few of the perpetrators of various acts but whilst these boys and men claimed that they had been paid to commit the crimes, they didn’t know who had hired them.

  Some did give the name of Old John, a well-known criminal figure in London, although many thought him to be a myth. Half the crimes in London were attributed to Old John but if he did exist, it seemed that no one knew exactly who he was.

  The day the pipes burst was an inconvenience for the coffee house, but the water for the coffee was delivered daily (tap water wasn’t at all pleasant tasting) so it was only washing-up water that they needed and there was a pump not too far away, at Charing Cross, where they could collect water and carry it back to the coffee house. It wasn’t ideal but it was manageable.

  Annabelle was disturbed mid-morning by Mr Braithwaite knocking at the rear door and she invited him inside.

  “You’re managing without the water, I see,” he said, noting the many pails of water around the kitchen.

  “We are. and it’s infinitely preferable to our customers sitting in near darkness.”

  “I’ve arranged for the water company to fix the pipes tomorrow and don’t worry about the cost, I’ll cover it.”

  “I’m happy to pay my share,” she assured him. She wasn’t thrilled about it but at least she had a reserve fund after selling her necklace.

  “No, no, I’m happy to cover it.”

  She could tell that there was something that he didn’t want to tell her.

  “Is something the matter?” she asked.

  “Well, it’s just that with everything that has happened recently, my wife is pressuring me to find somewhere else to live. We’ve spoken about it before actually, getting somewhere bigger so that she can join me in town during the Season. She seems to think that now is as good a time as any.”

  The final piece of the puzzle fell into place.

  “So you’ll be selling the lease then?” she asked, although only to be polite.

  “Yes. I wanted to give you first refusal. I don’t know if you can buy the leasehold but if not, I see no reason for the new owner not to keep you. You have been excellent tenants, which I will be sure to explain to the new owner.”

  ‘Unless the buyer is Frederick,’ she thought.

  Now all the incidents began to make sense; Frederick was trying to intimidate and frighten Mr Braithwaite until he packed up and left, allowing Frederick to buy the leasehold and kick Annabelle out. The incidents against other neighbours were just so that it didn’t seem as if Mr Braithwaite’s house was being singled out. Thanks to a social climbing wife, that must have happened far sooner than Frederick could have anticipated.

  He must have realised that something was wrong. “I still have to find a new home, and a buyer for the lease, so nothing will change too quickly,” he assured her.

  “Of course.” She plastered a big smile on her face. “Thank you for telling me, Mr Braithwaite. I hope you and your wife will be very happy in your new home.”

  “Thank you, Miss Wyatt. I’d better be off now.”

  Annabelle was in something of a daze for the rest of the morning. Thankfully her routine here was so ingrained that she didn’t need to give it much conscious thought. Her banter with the customers was well rehearsed so although she couldn’t have told you what any of her conversations were about, the customers didn’t notice anything amiss.

  As had been his habit of late, Richard showed up at 2pm, after the lunch time rush, to share a late lunch with her in her office.

  As the stew cooled on the desk, he kissed her as he usually did but her response was mechanical today, rather than heartfelt.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling away.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just a little preoccupied, that’s all.”

  “Am I allowed to ask why?”

  She hesitated for a moment, before deciding to trust him. “Mr Braithwaite is selling the lease.”

  “I see.” He stepped away and considered this information. “Because of the recent crimes?”

  “That, and his wife has a desire to become part of London Society, s
o she says that now is a good time for them to get a larger house.”

  “Hmm,” he said as he paced. He would be willing to bet good money that Mrs Braithwaite had a little bird named Frederick whispering in her ear. “What business is Mr Braithwaite in?”

  “Um, shipping, I believe,” she answered, somewhat confused by the question.

  Richard nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that your brother does not buy the leasehold.”

  “How?” she asked, then realisation dawned. “You can’t buy it yourself!”

  “Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do,” he answered, sounding a little snippy. The more he thought about this, the better it sounded. Not only would Annabelle’s business be safe if he purchased the house and shop, they would have the accommodations above, where they could meet each other (when the time came).

  Although she hadn’t said anything to him directly, he knew that her patrons were taking more liberties with her person than they used to. Three patrons had been banned from the shop and one had even received his stew over his head before being barred.

  The articles in the Review and the London Times about her confrontation with Frederick had been balanced, but the Morning Post hadn’t been nearly so kind, raking all sorts of gossip and innuendo up from some of the other guests. A rather unkind caricature had also been drawn, depicting her as a maid and Richard dallying with her whilst his mother was busy playing the piano.

  He knew that seeing such an image for sale and in shop windows hurt her but she refused to discuss it with him.

  Sometimes their passion threatened to overwhelm them but Annabelle always stopped him before he could go too far. He had suggested meetings in hotels but she always refused, afraid of further damage to her reputation, and it was driving him insane.

  He still met with Ada regularly but their time together no longer satisfied him as it used to.

  “Well, pardon me for having an opinion!” Annabelle’s hands went to her hips.

  “I didn’t mean that,” he tried to explain, except he still sounded terse.