Not Quite a Duchess: A Sweet Victorian Gothic Historical Romance (The Boston Heiresses Book 1)

by Ava Rose

  "You're not sending me back. This is not about me. It's about Libby who is out there somewhere, most likely in some kind of trouble. Even if she’s perfectly fine, we still need to find her and confirm that," she insisted.

  "I understand, Anna, and we will find her," he said gently. "I am not going to send you back. I only need you to be honest with me at all times because I want you safe and healthy."

  She pursed her lips as if in thought, then said at last, "Honesty. Very well. I have a few bumps and bruises, but nothing that won’t heal quickly.”

  His immediate reaction to that was a strong need to send her packing, but he clamped his mouth shut. She had done him the honor of being truthful, after all. Eventually, he sighed. “Thank you for being honest. Now, back to Libby. I don't believe she would have married Sir Anthony willingly, no matter what anyone says. It is out of character for her to do such a thing."

  She perked up. "I completely agree."

  "My father ensured that both my sisters would never want for anything. He secured funds in a trust for both of them. Over the years, I've added significantly to the amount. Upon marriage, Libby will gain control of those funds. Or at least, her husband will.”

  Something began to simmer in her eyes. “I see. So, Sir Anthony likely thinks he can get his hands on the funds now that they are wed.”

  “He may if he remains married to her, however, I cannot see how it is possible that he knows about the trust at all.”

  Anna sniffed. “I don’t understand why a woman would need to be married before she is given access to what is rightfully hers. Nor do I understand why her husband should be given access to Libby’s funds upon marriage. You get to access and do whatever you please with your money so why can’t it be the same for Libby or Mary? This wouldn’t be happening if she had full control of her own funds.”

  “It’s the law, Anna.”

  “Well, it’s not fair.”

  He had to agree with her there. “You are right.”

  “When you made these laws, it was not to protect women’s interests, but to satisfy your misogynistic cravings.”

  Her words unaccountably hurt. “I didn’t make the laws.”

  “But you could have changed the terms, and given her access once she came of age. Look what my father did for me. He made me a duchess, despite most of society believing he’d gone mad. He stuck to what he believed was right—equality—and my life is so much the better for it. I have choices. Unlike Libby and Mary.”

  “Well, I…” He had no sensible response to that. Now that he was in charge of his family, it was indeed within his capacity to change things. He just hadn’t thought about it. Not until the woman seated opposite him forced him to see the inequity. He began to gain a glimmer of understanding about what Anna and women like her were fighting for. It was just a tragedy that it had taken his sister becoming a possible victim of abduction and fraud for him to realize it.

  “I will make amends,” he said. Her eyes widened as if in shock and he was lost as to why, but he continued, nevertheless. “Once we return to Boston, I will see Libby gets her funds. And Mary, too, once she is of age.”

  “I must admit, I am quite surprised,” she said.

  He almost laughed. “You think me so unyielding and indifferent?”

  She looked away. “You have not exactly given me cause to think otherwise. Until now.”

  A warm feeling filled him at the thought of receiving her approval. He reached across the table and took one of her hands. When it came to Anna, he had been a coward, and this time, he was not going to allow his fears to get in the way. He was going to let her know how he felt.

  “I don’t care for social gatherings,” he began.

  She gave him a confused frown. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Since my return to Boston, every ball, every event, every soirée you have hosted, I have attended. The ones to which I was directly invited and the ones only my mother and Libby were supposed to attend. I have not missed a single one.”

  She still looked confused, but she was allowing him to talk. He needed her to understand what he was saying.

  “I don’t care for social gatherings,” he repeated, “but I attended yours so I could see you.”

  Anna’s shoulders slumped and her eyes misted. “Why?” she whispered.

  “Because I couldn’t stay away, Anna. I have been in denial of my feelings, but I made use of every opportunity to see you.” Pen stared directly into her eyes. He wanted her to really understand what he’d hidden for so long. “I told myself many lies, about keeping an eye on my sister, or the fact that your foolish notions of utopia simply entertained me.”

  “They are not foolish notions,” she said softly.

  “I know that now.”

  She drew a long breath. “What are you trying to say, Pen?”

  His free hand found her other hand and clasped it. His next words were the hardest because they exposed him the most. “You mean a lot to me. You were right, I don’t care for much in this harsh world, but I do care about you. And I want to share your life if you will have me.”

  “Oh, Pen.” Her voice was so low he had to strain to hear. “All this while, I thought you couldn’t stand me.”

  A little smile curved his mouth. “Far from it. I pushed you away because I was afraid of the strength of my feelings. I do not wish to lose you.”

  She burst out laughing. “You are the most impossible man I’ve ever met.”

  “Have I lost you?” His cheeks had heated most uncomfortably, but the question had to be asked.

  “Of course not.”

  At her vehement declaration he jumped up and sped around the table to where she sat. He pulled her to her feet and circled his arms about her waist, pulling her close. The light from the candle danced in her eyes as she gazed up at him, and her lips parted. What he could only describe as a lovely feeling of rightness began to unfurl in his chest, sending warmth and light to the coldest and darkest corners of his being.

  Inch by inch, his mouth neared hers. He drew out the moment to savor the anticipation. When their lips finally touched, it was sweetness and sensuality harmoniously mixed. Her arms drifted up to clutch at his shoulders. Now that he knew she felt the same, he was never going to let her go. He would do everything he could to make her happy.

  His hands cradled her face and he pulled away to look into her eyes. The level of emotion he saw almost knocked the wind out of him. Everything she'd concealed behind a mask of self-protection was laid bare for him to see.

  Pen kissed her lips again and held her a bit longer.

  "Shall we have dessert?" he asked at last, releasing her with much reluctance.

  She grinned. "I don't say no to sweets."

  He settled back in his seat and served up the apple pie, feeling happy for the first time in a long time.

  Just as they finished, a rough male voice whispered nearby. "Did you see them?"

  Pen carefully set down his fork and so did Anna as they both strained to hear more.

  "Oh, I saw. I heard one of ‘em is a Hoffman," another man’s voice replied. "Do you know how much money them Hoffmans have?"

  Pen stood as quietly as he could and looked about the room, searching for where the voices might be coming from. Following the sound, he discovered a second door partially hidden behind a tapestry and pressed his ear to it.

  "If we do this right, we will be very rich."

  Anna came up beside him and motioned for him to make room so she could listen in, too.

  "How many ladies did you count? And who told you one of them was a Hoffman?" This person seemed to be doubting the information.

  "Five ladies were given fine rooms. I gave some of ‘em the keys myself. Then Little Lily told me she heard the gentleman that accompanied them refer to himself as Alexander Hoffman and that his sister was one of the five.”

  Anna tapped his arm and mouthed, “I know Rowena Hoffman.”

  He put his finge
r to his lips, warning her to stay quiet.

  One of the men laughed. “Little Lily is going to help us win this game.”

  “To riches!” Glasses clinked and they laughed.

  Pen and Anna remained by the door for a bit longer, listening for more, but it appeared that was all they would be getting. Pens suspected the men’s revelation was linked somehow to Libby, and although they did not know what the men looked like, they now had a name. Little Lily.

  ***

  “Anna,” Pen’s voice was quiet. “Who was that maid in your room earlier?”

  “Do you mean Marguerite?”

  He shrugged. “I guess so. Do you think you can question her?”

  “Of course.”

  “Come.” When he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow it felt so right, and this time she held her head high as they walked out of the private dining room into the public area.

  Like before, all eyes were on them as they crossed toward the entrance. Anna cast furtive glances around to see if she could find the men who’d been talking, but looks alone were not enough to determine anything, and there were many men in the room. It could be any one.

  The innkeeper was behind the counter attending to guests as usual and when they caught his eyes, he grinned and bowed. They approached the desk.

  “Good evening. How may I be of service to you?”

  Anna took charge. “I gave the maid that was sent up to my chambers earlier my dress to clean and she is yet to return it.” She left out the girl’s name on purpose, so as not to seem too familiar with her. “Can you send her up to me?”

  “Yes, my lady. Right away!”

  Pen led Anna away and she waited until they were in her room before she spoke.

  “If those men are right, then Rowena Hoffman is here, and potentially in some kind of danger.”

  “There does appears to be something big afoot,” he mused.

  “Should we warn them? You can seek out Alexander—”

  “No, not yet. We should allow things to play out a little, and follow the trail. It could lead us to Libby.”

  “What if someone gets hurt?”

  His eyes were like black steel when he said, “I won’t let it come to that.”

  A knock sounded just then and Anna crossed the room to open the door.

  “You asked for me, ma’am?” Marguerite curtsied. Anna’s dress was in her arms.

  “Yes, come in.” Anna stepped aside to allow her in before closing the door and turning the key in the lock.

  Marguerite stopped short when she heard the sound of the key, and when she turned and saw Pen in the room, she began to tremble.

  “It’s all right,” Anna said in a soft voice. “We are not going to harm you. I promise.” She took the dress and set it down on the bed, then waved toward one of the chairs by the fireplace. “Please sit. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Marguerite shook her head. “I shouldn’t.”

  “Why not?” Anna asked gently

  The girl looked in Pen’s direction then back at Anna, her large eyes showing fear.

  “Don’t worry about him. Pretend he is not here.”

  Pen raised an affronted brow at Anna, which she ignored.

  “I might get in trouble if I sit,” Marguerite said in a shaky voice.

  “It’s just us here.”

  “Mr. Baker once saw me sitting on the fine furniture and I got lashed for it.”

  “Who is Mr. Baker?”

  “The innkeeper.”

  The thought of Marguerite being struck by that man made Anna feel sick. She moved close to the young girl. “Does he strike you often?”

  She nodded. “When I do something wrong. Even when I don’t. The only maid he does not whip is Little Lily. He likes that one.”

  Anna’s gaze met Pen’s and he gave her a nod of encouragement. Marguerite knew quite a bit from the sound of it, and her dislike of Mr. Baker could work to their advantage. She placed her hands on Marguerite’s shoulders and gently urged her to sit. Then she sat opposite.

  “Tell me about your work with Mr. Baker.”

  She looked unsure.

  “We will protect you. I give you my word,” Pen said and Anna nodded in concurrence.

  “Ten years ago, my maman started working for him to repay her debt to him. Seven years ago, she died of the fever, and he made me continue her work. He has never paid me. He just beats me and calls me names.” She sniffled. “My memory is not very good, but I think he beat my mother too.”

  The wretched innkeeper had been abusing the poor girl for years.

  Anna offered her a handkerchief from her purse, and Marguerite accepted it gratefully. “You said he liked Little Lily and didn’t hurt her.”

  With a nod of her head, she continued. “He offers her to some of the guests and she brings him the money. It is why he likes her. But there is something else, ma’am. Lily likes to drink, you see, and when she drinks, she talks. They have a new business now. They are planning to make money off proper ladies like you. They will kidnap them and ask their families for ransom or force them to marry one of the men so they can get their hands on their fortunes. The Blue Chapel arranges such weddings all the time.”

  Anna’s heart started beating very fast at the thought of Libby caught up in such an ordeal. She cast a quick glance at Pen, whose mouth was a tight slash of contained emotion.

  “Do you know anyone by the name of Sir Anthony Hart?” Anna asked.

  “No, ma’am, I don’t.”

  She then showed off the portrait of Libby, and although Marguerite did not recognize her, Anna knew there was simply too much about this to be unconnected to Libby’s plight.

  “I overheard some of the men Mr. Baker works with talking about some ladies that arrived today,” Marguerite supplied.

  They were most likely the same men Anna and Pen had overheard downstairs.

  “Do you know what they look like?”

  “Yes. I can tell you which room they are staying in, and their names.” At Anna’s nod, she gave the names: Vincent Day and William Singer.

  William Singer was the man who hired Van Daal to watch Libby. He knew where Libby was and he’d been at the wedding ceremony. This was it! This was their link.

  “Do you want to get out of here, Marguerite? I mean, for good?”

  “Yes! I have dreamed of it.”

  “We need your help, and in return, we will take you back to Boston with us. You can have a place in my residence if you wish.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “You would do that, ma’am?”

  “Yes. It’s a promise.” She stood and Pen shifted close. “Now, show us where these men are.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Marguerite took them to another part of the inn and knocked on the door of the room William Singer and Vincent Day were staying in, announcing, “Housekeeping!”

  No one came to the door.

  She knocked several times and was met with silence. Then she tried opening the door and found it locked.

  “They might still be down at the bar,” she offered.

  “I’ll go down and see if I can find them there,” Pen said. “Anna, I need you to go back to your room and stay there until I return.”

  “Shouldn’t we check in here first?” She gestured at the locked door.

  He shook his head. “They could return at any moment. I don’t want to risk it.”

  “All right.” She would have liked to convince him otherwise, but his posture brokered no argument.

  Marguerite accompanied Pen to help identify the hooligans while Anna made a show of going back to her room. She went up a level and crossed the hall toward her door. Then waited a minute or two before turning around and going back down to that room.

  She was nervous. She’d never broken into a room before and didn’t know what would happen if she were caught. Reminding herself that she was doing this for Libby gave her the resolve she needed. With a glance around to confirm that no one was coming,
she pulled two pins out of her hair and inserted them into the keyhole. After what felt like forever, the lock gave and she quickly stepped inside.

  An intense musty smell mixed with something she couldn’t place assaulted her nose. The room was untidy with clothes strewn about, a half-eaten meat pie and an empty bottle of wine on a desk by the window. The bed was unmade. She surmised that the stink she’d been unable to place initially was emanating from the rotting meat pie on the desk.

  Did the maids not clean this room?

  There were candles already lit in sconces on the wall, which supplied enough light for a search. Placing her hands on her hips, she looked about, not sure where to begin. She did not know what exactly she should be looking for.

  A drawer by the bed seemed like a good place to start. She opened it and began rummaging through, thankful she was wearing gloves. Nothing in this room seemed clean. She found a piece of folded paper, dirty from handling, and unfolded it. In rough, almost illegible writing was a list of names; she recognized two from the list and as her eyes moved down, she caught the name Elizabeth Armstrong-Leeds. Libby! The entry was struck out with a pencil. Her blood froze in her veins as she began to fear the worst.

  Shoving the paper into her dress pocket, she searched more. Maybe she might find something else to indicate where Libby was being kept.

  The sound of footsteps met her ears and she stilled, listening for where the person was heading. She pushed the drawer shut before crouching. The footsteps stopped in front of the door and before she had any time to reconsider her actions, she flattened herself onto the floor and slithered beneath the bed.

  Her heartbeat drummed loudly in her ears and she sent up a silent prayer for her own safety. The door opened and booted feet entered. Anna held her breath as the person walked about the room, grumbling to themselves. “First he leaves the door open with the lights on and now all the wine is gone.”

  If he was blaming someone else for the door being open then he must not suspect her presence. Thank goodness.

  She heard a couple of unidentifiable thunks, and carefully turned her head. Boots, black and thick with mud, were on the floor near her face. She quickly shut her eyes and sucked in her breath, while her heart picked up the pace.