A Minx for a Merchant : Book 5: Primrose: Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet)

by Arietta Richmond

  “Definitely – it’s insufferable. Perhaps we should demand that the Innkeep tosses him out? I’m sure that our business is worth more to the Inn than his, after all.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Gabriel, bathed and refreshed, and dressed impeccably, decided to go down to the public parlour, rather than stay in their rooms. There was less chance there, he thought, of finding himself face to face with Lady Primrose. Perhaps an ale and some time observing those around him would help to anchor him back in the reality of life in England. He was halfway down the stairs when he heard raised voices, one of which sounded feminine, and alarmingly familiar. He hastened his steps, even as the words being spoken registered in his mind.

  “How dare you disparage a man you do not even know! Neither the birth of a man, nor the role he fulfils has anything to do with his character, his value as a man. Just the fact that you gossip so, speaking disrespectfully, judging a man you have never met, based on nothing more than a label someone else had placed upon him, tells me that none of you are half the man that he is! Your behaviour is dishonourable, and unworthy of gentlemen.”

  It was Lady Primrose. But who was she speaking to?

  And even more importantly, who was she speaking about?

  He reached the door of the parlour, which hung open, as if someone had rushed in, with no regard for closing it after them, and looked in. On the far side of the large room, Sera and Raphael sat at a table tucked into the corner, past a huge fireplace. Their faces reflected an odd mixture of amusement and concern. He frowned, but his eyes were immediately drawn back to the centre of the room when a male voice spoke.

  “And who are you to lecture us? We’ve the right to say what we like about commoners. A merchant has no place here, in an Inn for the quality. What makes a chit like you think you can give us a dressing down?”

  The man who spoke had risen from his seat, and was flanked by two others, all of them dressed in the most gaudy, foppish attire that Gabriel had ever seen. He loomed over the woman who faced him, as if to threaten her physically, as well as with his words.

  But Lady Primrose stood before him fearlessly, her gown plain, but her manner so regal that it would have looked well on a queen. Her back was mostly towards him, but what little he could see of the side of her face showed the flush of anger, and a clenched jaw which he recognised as a sign of utter fury.

  She drew herself up to her full height, and regarded the men before her as if they were particularly noxious vermin.

  “Who am I to point out your failings? I am Lady Primrose Gardenbrook, daughter of the Duke of Elbury. But more important than that, I am a woman of the aristocracy, who knows what constitutes honourable behaviour, and what does not. Your behaviour is unforgivable.”

  One of the other two men appeared rather taken aback at this revelation of her identity.

  “I… ah… don’t get all in a…”

  She fixed him with a dragon like glare.

  “Do not try to tell me what to do. You have no authority over me, and no right to presume so. What makes you think that you are better than any other man?”

  “I am heir to a Marquess! You should treat me with respect, young lady.”

  “I see no reason to, when you behave in a manner which disgraces your family.”

  “But… if you’re a Lady, as you say, why would you defend a merchant? What have you ever had to do with commoner scum?”

  Lady Primrose took a step towards the fop, and he actually backed away a little. Gabriel found himself caught in a tangle of emotions. He was horrified that, yet again, it seemed that the facts of his existence had put her in danger, but, at the same time, he found himself filled with pride in her strength, and her willingness to tackle injustice, head on. Beyond that, he found himself shaken by the fact that she would so defend him, after the way that he had treated her during these last weeks.

  The altercation showed him, with utter clarity, everything that he loved about her – her strength, her ability to step beyond the conventional for those she cared about, and her courage. It was as if a veil was torn from his eyes, as if, in the reflection of her magnificence, he saw the truth of his own foolishness.

  She was still completely unaware of his presence, and she waved a hand dismissively at the men before her, as she answered the question which had been asked of her.

  “Why would I defend a merchant? Because, for a start, he is not ‘commoner scum’ as you so inelegantly put it – he is far more a gentleman than you will ever be. And if you regard a man whose brother is now an Earl, and whose sister is a Duchess, as scum, then it is clear to me that your perception of your own value is remarkably distorted. With a word in the right place, that man you designate as scum could leave you cast out by society, recognised as the cads that you so clearly are. I would suggest that you reconsider your rash words, and prepare to tender an apology – unless, of course, you have lost all interest in being accepted in society?”

  Gabriel almost gasped – that she would go so far in his defence, even after he had so harshly rejected her, left him no option but to face the fact that he had been a coward, that her love was more than worth fighting for, no matter the obstacles they might face. He loved her, although he did not deserve her, and denying it was pointless.

  He took a step forward, into the room, as the three fops looked at each other, real concern for the first time beginning to show in their faces. At the same time, Raphael rose from the shadowed corner, and came forward, speaking as he did.

  “The Lady, who is who she says she is, has the right of it – you have behaved with no honour whatsoever. I am the Earl of Porthaven, and it is my brother that you have so demeaned. I would suggest that you deliver a heartfelt apology immediately. Which you can do to the man himself, for he has just entered this room.”

  The men looked up, only then noticing Gabriel’s presence, at the same time as Lady Primrose spun around where she stood, to meet his eyes. Gabriel ignored the men, his eyes seeking Primrose’s. He could tell, from the expression on her face, that his own feelings were writ large on his features, his love for her, his admiration of her courage, his appreciation of her defence of him, and his shame about how he had treated her for weeks.

  He waited, wondering what she would make of it, what decision she would make, in that moment, about her next actions. She smiled – a smile which left him near gasping for breath, so warm was it – and gestured him forward, turning back towards the fops who stood gaping at him.

  “Gentlemen – for I will give you the courtesy of that address, even though you do not deserve it – I make known to you Mr Gabriel Morton, owner of Morton Empire Imports, brother to the Earl of Porthaven, and the Duchess of Hartswood. Please, make the apology which you owe him, now. Else I will ensure that your reputations are as besmirched as your minds seem to be.”

  Gabriel stepped up to stand beside her, the warmth of her presence filling him with happiness, and eyed the men before him expectantly. They shifted about, looking at each other, and Gabriel could tell that the need to apologise to a commoner was a very difficult thing for them to accept. But, after some more sideways glances at Primrose’s adamant face, their leader spoke, his voice a little uneven.

  “You have our apology, Mr Morton, for judging you without knowing anything of who you are. Our apology also to Lord Porthaven, for any implied disparagement. I beg you to forgive us our transgression, and allow our reputations to remain intact.”

  It was blatantly obvious that the men had never before in their lives had to treat a commoner with courtesy, and Gabriel found himself unreasonably pleased by seeing their humbling. He should not feel so, yet he did, after so many years of being looked down on by many of the men who bought his wares.

  “Thank you. I would recommend that, in future, you think very carefully about your words, before you slander any man – or woman. And now, whilst I believe that we had each come down here to enjoy a little space, after travelling, I think it best if we retire to our
private parlour upstairs, and leave you to consider the changes you should make in your attitudes.”

  As he spoke, Sera rose, and came to take Raphael’s arm. Gabriel offered his own arm to Primrose, and they turned, without another word, and left the fops standing in the middle of the room, still in stunned silence.

  <<<>>>

  Primrose had been utterly shocked when Raphael had said that Gabriel stood behind her. Shocked, and a little terrified – how much had he heard? What would he think of her defending him this way? But when she had spun around to see him, his eyes had met hers, and all doubt had fallen away. His expression said that he loved her, that he was glad of her defence of him.

  Once they had left the room, and gone back upstairs, sending Mary to arrange food to be sent up to them, everyone had been quiet. Raphael had congratulated her on her courage, and the ferocity of her defence.

  She had looked away, embarrassed and unsure, but Gabriel had reached out, twining his fingers with hers for a moment, and she had relaxed. Once they had eaten, they all took to their beds, with little further discussion – the long day of travelling, followed by the emotional catharsis of her tirade at the three fops, had left her utterly exhausted.

  The morning found her feeling better, and yet oddly disconsolate. In that first instant in which she had seen his face in the downstairs parlour, she had thought that all would be right between them again – but now she was not entirely sure. How did one go back to comfortable conversation, after weeks of distance and argument?

  Almost as if he faced the same quandary, Gabriel was quiet and rather withdrawn as the carriage rolled on towards London, bringing them ever closer to ‘normal life’ again. Yet he reached out at times, and traced a finger across her hand as they sat in the carriage in silence. If Raphael and Sera noted those touches, they pretended not to have done so, for they said nothing. It seemed forever since they had left London, a lifetime, as if the world should have changed utterly – and yet it had not.

  Would he speak to her now? Or could she speak to him? What could she say, to bridge the gap between them, to repair the damage that argument had caused? Could he forgive her impetuous and rather dreadful behaviour?

  The thoughts rattled around in her mind, an endless cycle in time with the sound of the carriage wheels, and when, in late afternoon, they drew up before Elbury House, she was no further advanced, had no more answers for her questions than she’d had when they left the Inn that morning. Their familiar footman let down the steps, and she shivered, lost.

  She was not at all sure that she knew, anymore, how to be the well-behaved Lady Primrose she had been before they left. But everyone was waiting – she stepped down from the carriage, and soon they were all at the door. Marks opened it, and gave her a broad smile.

  “Welcome home, my Lady!”

  They stepped into the foyer, and, before the door had closed behind them, a most unladylike squeal sounded, followed by the rush of footsteps. Violet and Iris came almost running from the main parlour, with Thorne and her parents following at a far more sedate pace.

  “Primrose! What was it like, what did you…”

  “…draw? Can we see?”

  Her sisters hugged her, and suddenly, the world snapped into sharp focus – this world, the one she had left, weeks before. She could feel the world of the Islands fading, as if it was no longer real, now that she was back here. She did not want to lose it - desperately, she tried to bring back the feel of the first weeks on the island, and Gabriel’s kisses. But he stood beside her now, a little aloof, and the world of London reclaimed her.

  Raphael was speaking, obviously answering a question Primrose’s mother had asked, while she had been woolgathering.

  “Thank you, but no, Your Grace, we will call soon, but right now, once Primrose’s trunks are unloaded, we will be on our way – I, for one, will be glad to see my own home again.”

  Her mother nodded, and Sera turned to Primrose, reaching out to take her hands.

  “I will send the larger canvases straight to my art warehouse – I am certain that Mr Featherstonehaugh will be delighted to see your work, and will immediately ensure that all of the paintings have survived the journey in good condition. The smaller canvases and your journals are in the trunks we have unloaded here for you. I will call soon so that we can look through them, and you can decide the fate of each picture. For now, rest.”

  Gabriel said nothing, simply took her hand and bowed over it, his fingers pressing hers, and rose. Then, as if in the blink of an eye, they were gone. Primrose felt bereft, unmoored by the lack of his presence – for nearly nine long weeks, even when they had been most distant from each other in manner, he had been close in person. Now, it was as if the air was colder around her for his absence.

  The evening passed in somewhat of a daze, as she told her family of her adventures, endured her brother’s teasing about everything, and her parents shock at the perils she had endured and successfully survived. After dinner, she went up to her rooms, and dug through the trunks to find the gifts she had bought for her family, an excited Millie assisting her to carry them back downstairs.

  Once those gifts had been given, she collapsed into bed, and almost immediately slept, her dreams full of Gabriel, both kissing her and spurning her.

  <<<>>>

  Gabriel did not know how to begin to talk to Primrose, after the way that he had treated her for weeks. He knew, without any doubt, that he needed to speak, to tell her of the truth of his feelings, to see if there was, still, after all of his foolishness and failing her, a chance that she might accept him, might marry him – for that was, he realised, what he wanted.

  The fact of her ferocious defence of him at the Inn gave him hope, no matter how awkward they had been with each other since, on the drive back to London. Once they had stepped into Elbury House, and her family had surrounded her, he had known that there was no hope of having that conversation that evening.

  But tomorrow.

  Tomorrow, he would call on her, despite his fears that she might still reject him, despite his renewed concern for the way that society might look upon him. Tomorrow, he would have courage, as she had courage, and tell her the truth, unvarnished, from his heart.

  He loved her. He wanted her for his wife.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Primrose woke early, and for a moment, as the fog of sleep still covered her, was disoriented by the silence, the lack of movement, and the size of the bed she lay in. Then, as she opened her eyes, it all came back to her. She was no longer on the ship – she was at home, in Elbury House, in her own bed.

  It was quite the strangest of feelings, after so long away.

  She realised that it was probably far earlier than Millie would expect her to wake, that the habits of travel had woken her at a time that most of the ton would regard as alarmingly early. So she simply lay there, and thought, reliving the last few days, and the moments when Gabriel had touched her. But also reliving the realisation that he had said nothing more, had done nothing more, that she did not know when she would see him again, or what he truly thought, of what she had done in that Inn in Godalming.

  Which was enough to make her want to seek distraction.

  She sat up, and tugged the bell-pull to summon Millie.

  An hour later, bathed, dressed, her hair tidier than it had been for days, and feeling a little better about the world, she entered the breakfast room. It was empty of all but a footman, who looked rather startled by her early appearance.

  “I will send for food immediately, my Lady, Cook was not expecting…”

  “Thank you – I will be happy with whatever is ready – I realise that it is far earlier than usual.”

  He nodded, bowed, and rushed from the room, leaving her to sit in the quiet room. The large windows on one side let in the morning sunlight, which seemed pale, and almost weak, after the sun of the islands. How many more things, she wondered, would she notice differently now, now that she had seen someth
ing more of the world?

  She ate when the food was brought, and found herself appreciating the familiar tastes, then, when no one else had appeared for breakfast by the time that she had finished, she went to the library, and settled in to read for a while. She was most grateful to have access to so many books again – travel so limited one’s access to reading material, for books were heavy to transport, and in many cases, too valuable to risk.

  Hours passed as she read, and she was just about to call for tea when the door opened.

  “Ah! Here you are. We all assumed that you were still abed, after suffering the exigencies of travelling, until Millie informed Violet that no, you had risen quite inordinately early. You have a caller, and Marks is thoroughly distressed, because he couldn’t find you. Do come to the parlour, sister dear, and receive your guest.”

  Thorne grinned at her, knowing full well that he had left out the one piece of information she would most want – the identity of her caller. If anything could have made her feel like she was truly home again, his teasing was it. It was as if, in many ways, she had never been away, as if she had merely dreamed their travels.

  She rose, setting her book aside, and stretched, glaring at her brother.

  “And just who is this caller? How respectable need I appear? Should I rush upstairs and change?”

  “I do not believe that this caller will give a fig about how respectable you look.”

  “Oh? Who is it then?”

  Thorne laughed, and shook his head.

  “Go to the parlour – find out for yourself. I’ll let Marks know where you are.”

  He turned and left her. She sighed, shaking her head, yet oddly pleased – she had missed her siblings, without ever having been truly conscious of that fact. Her skirts seemed not too crushed, and a quick investigation in the mirror which hung above the mantel confirmed that her hair had not yet utterly escaped its pins. That would do, she thought. Whoever it was would have to cope with her as she was.