Desperately Inn Love with the Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Patricia Haverton

  Once enough time had passed that he was certain Caleb would have cleared the building, Zachariah decided to move back downstairs. With Melody resting, he felt as though someone would have to watch over the front desk. He didn’t want any guests to be sneaking away without paying their bill.

  As he reached the bottom floor, he could hear the maids beginning to move about the halls and stairs. He settled into the desk, though was respectful to not look at any ledgers except the log of current guests. Then, his memory returned to the letter. Zachariah’s eyes locked onto the drawer she had placed it in. Curiosity burned away at his insides, but he forced himself to keep his composure. He did not want to ruin the trust Melody had in him.

  Though, he could speculate on what it was. Perhaps a bill? No, she said it was a personal matter. What personal matter could it be when she had no family?

  Footsteps approaching ripped him away from his thoughts. Gazing up, he saw the man from earlier in the morning and what he assumed to be his wife. Zachariah put on a cheerful expression. “Good day, Mr. Abbott, checking out already?”

  The old man twitched and eyed him. “Yes,” he replied curtly.

  The Duke peered down at the log, seeing the duration of their stay. “Very well. That will be two-nights rate.”

  He watched as the man huffed and grew flustered. It was clear that Mr. Abbott had been prepared to pitch a fit about that morning to Melody, but did not deem it appropriate since it was Zachariah sitting there. “This is quite irregular, for nobility to be running an inn,” the old man grumbled.

  “As irregular as it may be,” he smiled, “here I am. Come now, two-nights rate and you may be on your way.”

  “Well, I—” just as he began to protest, Mr. Abbott deflated. Grumbling to himself, he took out a couple banknotes and handed them over to the Duke.

  “Pleasure. Good day.”

  Mr. Abbott took hold of his wife’s arm and headed out of the inn. He hoped that he hadn’t done anything that Melody would be upset with, but he did what he thought was polite and correct. With the banknotes in hand, he searched about for where she kept them. He opened the drawer and immediately averted his gaze, not wanting to read her letter. His hand felt about the drawer blindly until he felt a small leather pouch.

  Slipping the money inside it, he tucked it back into the drawer. And then there he sat, for more than two hours. Most would have likely found it boring, but Zachariah busied himself with his fantasies and idle curiosities of how Melody filled her days, and how he could assist in her hectic life. He mentally cursed himself for not asking Caleb to fetch some more paper for the inn.

  “What on Earth are you doing?”

  Melody’s hands went to her hips as she descended the stairs to find Zachariah sitting at her desk. He gave her a winsome grin. “Dear lady, I am only ensuring no one saunters off without paying.”

  “How kind of you. Has anyone departed as yet?”

  He nodded, the grin turning to a smirk. “The Abbotts did. Such a lovely couple.”

  Her brow arched. “A couple they are, lovely they are not.” She moved over to the desk to peek at the ledger. She blinked. “They did not request a discount?”

  He leaned back in the chair, folding his hands. “Mr. Abbott found it quite irregular that nobility was to be found involved with the day to day operations of the inn.”

  “Irregular is a good way to put it,” she chuckled. “Thank you.”

  “Are you feeling better now?”

  She breathed in, feeling rather awful for lying to him but did not want him to worry. “I am, thank you.”

  “You must stop thanking me for merely being decent. Wait till I deserve it.”

  Her eyes narrowed at him. “You are a strange fellow, Your Grace.”

  “Some might think strange is charming.”

  “Charming it can be.”

  The winsome expression returned. “Do you find me charming, Miss Balfour?”

  “As a serpent, Your Grace. You’re as charming as the serpent of Eden.”

  A challenging gleam took over his eye. “You are familiar with your scripture.”

  “What Englisher does not know of Eve and the serpent?” she scoffed.

  “Then perhaps you are familiar with the story of Jacob and Rachel… Seven long, grueling years did he wait for Rachel.”

  She leaned in then, “Yes, he did. They were also first cousins.”

  His face softened and lips parted. “Jolly good that I do not have such a predicament.”

  Are we flirting? This must be the case. Why is he looking at me in such a way?

  Even though Melody tried to write it off as only playful banter, she could not deny her quickened heartrate. As she opened her mouth to respond with something equally witty, something struck the back of her ankle and spilled her into Zachariah’s lap. His strong grip kept her from falling to the floor.

  She swore she felt his arms squeeze about her, almost as though he were cradling her. “We really must stop meeting this way,” he purred.

  Chapter 17

  He watched with a humored glance as Melody stood from his lap. They both peered over at the maid, who had accidentally struck her with a laundry cart.

  “I am so sorry, Miss!” the young girl cried out.

  “It is all right, Susan. Go on now.”

  The girl, who couldn’t have been more than twenty, hurried away. “She’s a nervous thing, isn’t she?”

  Melody nodded. “Poor thing.” She glanced over at him, knowing he wanted more information. “Her father is a drunk, a terrifying man. I’ve never wished anyone dead but…” She sucked in a breath. “I will sleep better at night once she is able to move into the inn.”

  He frowned deeply, though his heart was once again warmed by the generosity of Melody. She ran a sanctuary as much as she did an inn. Though, it was also a reminder of how cruel the world was to women. How awful it was that a girl was afraid of her own father.

  A pattering down the stairs revealed Betsy as she rounded the corner with a handkerchief to her face. “I do not think I can work at all today, Melody. I am sorry. I was hoping some more sleep would cure my ills.”

  The innkeeper walked over to her friend, patting her shoulder. “Do not fret, Betsy. You go rest. I’ll send you up some porridge and tea.”

  “I am ever so miserable over this. I don’t want to abandon the kitchen.” Her voice was stifled with mucus and broken up by bouts of coughing.

  “The cooks can handle it. I’ll put soup on the menu for lunch. It’ll make it easy on them and will warm that belly of yours.”

  “What about the dinner service?” she frowned. “I love my cooks but I fear they will get too frazzled without my presence.”

  “If I have to put on an apron tonight and lead the way, then I shall. Your health is more important than one dinner service.”

  “Thank you—”

  The door to the inn opened and in walked Caleb.

  Right on time, old chap.

  His face softened at the sight of the red-nosed, pale-faced Betsy. “Jove, Miss Lovell.” He stepped to her and presented a small box. “I heard you were under the weather. I brought you some chocolates and honey candies.”

  “Oh my,” she breathed. She gently took the box and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Caleb. How sweet of you.”

  They shared an affectionate smile before Betsy proceeded back upstairs. Caleb’s eyes then fell to Melody. “I shall be back tomorrow or the next day. If she is not better, I will send for a physician.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary, Mr. Ridlington. It is just the sniffles.”

  “Sniffles it may be, or perhaps pneumonia. You want to be sure it is not consumption, that much I know.”

  Melody looked back to Zachariah and he could tell she was holding in a chuckle. Turning back to Caleb, she nodded. “Very well, then. That would be so gracious of you.”

  He held up a hand in protest. “It is my duty to ensure the head cook of this fine establishmen
t is fit for duty.”

  “Is she going off to war?” Zachariah laughed, poking fun at his wording.

  Caleb smirked then. “Oh, Miss Balfour. The Duke requested these for you.”

  He produced another small box and Zachariah sat up straight. He had requested nothing for her, but he was hopeful it was more paper, or perhaps ink. Melody hesitantly took the package and lifted the lid. Her back was to him so he could not read her expression. “Bonbons?” she gawked.

  Zachariah’s face reddened, but Caleb smirk grew. “Yes. They came all the way from France. A little shop in London carries them. Sent me out first thing this morning to fetch them for you. Some are almond and others caramel.”

  Melody looked back at Zachariah, analyzing his flushed face. “Well… Thank you, Zachariah.”

  “It is nothing,” he murmured.

  “I’ll go put these away.”

  She headed upstairs without another word. Zachariah glared hard at his dear friend. “What game are you playing?”

  Caleb could not have looked more pleased with himself. “Well, I only saw it right that both women got a gift. Of course, one from a Duke has to be more luxurious, eh wot?”

  “I grow weary of your teasing over Melody and I, Caleb.”

  “Only one reason you ever grow weary of a joke,” Caleb stated, walking over to his friend with a lopsided smile. “Because it has become personal.”

  He shook his head. “I think you only like to tease because I have acquired a friend that is not you.”

  “Oh yes, I am green around the gills.” Caleb clasped his hands behind his back. “We must get going, however. Your mother sent your valet into the city to fetch you.”

  He groaned. “That is highly inappropriate of her.”

  “Yes, well, James was frantic and I think it best to put him out of his misery and return to Sandorne.”

  Zachariah fetched a piece of paper from the desk and scribed a quick note for Melody, not wanting to disappear without saying goodbye.

  Melody,

  I have been called back to Sandorne promptly. I did not want to leave without a goodbye. I shall return within a few days.

  Warm regards,

  Serpent

  He stared down at the note and was given pause. Was using the nickname too forthcoming? He meant it as a friendly quip. Zachariah shook his head, deciding not to overthink it and centered it on the desk. The two men then traveled upstairs to fetch their bags before exiting the inn. Just mere steps outside and Zachariah found himself pining to go back inside. No particle in his entire being wanted to return home.

  In the carriage, he found James there waiting. He felt awful that he had been sent out so early in the morning to fetch Zachariah as if he were a runaway child. Agitation quickly began to build in the Duke. While he knew it came from a place of privilege, he longed for the freedom that the commoners had.

  Caleb attempted to chat with him about things, but Zachariah was uninterested, his bemusement swallowing him whole. While he knew how pushy the Duchess could be, he knew that her urgency to bring him home could only mean one thing—the matchmaker had selected a woman for him.

  His suspicions were cemented when they approached the estate and he spotted his mother standing outside. The Duke rubbed his temples and said a silent prayer for God to grant him strength and patience. He and James exited the carriage and slowly approached the doors.

  “Where have you been?” the Duchess inquired, crossing her arms.

  “Attending to business, Mother,” he grumbled. “If you do not recall, I am in the midst of closing a sugar trade deal.”

  “You are normally back much earlier than you are today.”

  “Business is not predictable. I thought you would have gained insight into that being married to father for so long.”

  He saw temper flare in her eyes before she regained her composure. “Agatha has selected a candidate for you. She is waiting in the garden. You are to escort her around the property and then enjoy luncheon together.”

  “Very well.”

  Zachariah moved around the perimeter of the house, not wishing to be around the Dowager Duchess anymore. As he approached the back garden, he spotted a brunette lady in a pale yellow walking gown and a matching bonnet, holding a parasol; off to the side was the matchmaker, he assumed to be their chaperone.

  Clearing his throat, he stepped to the lady’s side. “Good day.”

  “Your Grace,” she smiled, curtseying for him. “I am so happy you have arrived.”

  “Sorry to have kept you waiting,” he murmured.

  “There is no need to apologize. My father is the Duke of Hapsforth, as such, I know of the responsibilities that rest upon a Duke’s shoulders and how busy you must be.”

  Flashes of his morning at the inn, making beds and bread, played across his mind. A humorous smile took over his face. “Quite. What is your name?”

  “Lady Charlotte Pembroke.”

  They began to walk and Zachariah found himself unable to think of anything to say. Lady Charlotte did not miss a beat, however. “I heard you enjoy reading.”

  “I suppose I do.”

  “My favorite is Shakespeare.”

  He studied her out of the corner of his eye. “Pray tell.”

  “Well, what Lady does not swoon over a sonnet or Romeo and Juliet?”

  He forced a smile to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “I see.”

  He could tell that she recognized his disappointment, and she pushed on. “I like Plato as well.”

  “Indeed? Which of his works are your favorite?”

  “The Republic of Plato.”

  His doubt was already growing. “Quite a controversial work to be one’s favorite.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It has some sensational ideas.”

  “Well, I quite like the theme of justice in the book.”

  “So you agree with his perspective on justice?”

  “Justice is justice, is it not? I think we should live in a just society.”

  She nodded so confidently, but Zachariah was already on to her. “Well, it was lovely to meet you, Lady Charlotte, but I fear that this match is not meant to be. I wish you farewell and safe travels.”

  He pivoted to leave and she gasped. “What? What is the meaning of this? We have only just begun our walk—”

  “Because, dear girl,” he stated, turning to face her. He would be as gentle as he could with her, as she looked as young as Susan. “It is called Republic by Plato. Not The Republic of Plato. He does not discuss how we should live in a just society, as that is obvious. The premise of a great deal of the work is how justice comes from human psychology and not perceived behavior. I know you mean well, but I am afraid both of our time has been wasted. I want an independent woman. Not one who can parrot ideas coached to her on a carriage ride.”

  She was left with her jaw dropped as Zachariah walked toward the house. Agatha stood near the steps, gaping at him as well. “Quite the crafty scheme, Miss. Alas, I fear I am a hard man to con.”

  He took his leave and headed up to his study. He saw no point in attempting to retire to his bedchamber, knowing his mother would soon have an earful for him. James appeared at the door and Zachariah called over to him. “Will you send for Caleb? I wish to talk about plans of going to India.”

  Chapter 18

  Although it was a slow day at the Gentle Rose, Melody was slowed by Betsy being ill. She fluttered to and from the kitchen, ensuring that the kitchen staff had things under control. They were capable workers, but every kitchen needed a leader to keep things running smoothly. It wasn’t until dinner service began to wind down that Melody finally had time to sit and collect her thoughts.

  Melody found herself smiling at the note Zachariah had left her. Such a funny, strange Duke he was. While he had only been to her inn a handful of times by that point, she found herself forgetting how life was like before his friendship. He had shaken up the whole routine of the inn.
r />   “Serpent,” she read aloud to herself with a single laugh. “What a forward man.”

  “Miss,” Kathy called, grabbing her attention.

  Melody peered up to see her maid holding a piece of paper. Her face paled. “Another letter?”

  Kathy nodded and reluctantly handed it over. “It was on the back door of the kitchen this time.”

  Taking a deep breath, Melody unfolded it and told herself to remain calm.