A Night Rose for the Duke: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance

by Fanny Finch

  It was not a good feeling, and whenever he had such bad feelings, something terrible always ended up happening.

  He would know. He had had years of experience to ascertain that it was no fluke. Well, as soon as we are done with this discussion, I will see Mother, he thought.

  “You may carry on, Winston. You were saying something before my thoughts stole me away from this meeting.”

  “Indeed, my lord. I was talking about the Larson investment. The runners from Bow Street have come with their reports. They suspect that Lord Larson is indeed, hiding something. They uncovered details that point to bankruptcy. I asked them to investigate further.”

  Winston paused to search his brief bag for some papers. He soon found all that he was looking for, and handed them over to Charles in a neat stack.

  Charles accepted them and began to flip through the papers. His eyes widened as he went further.

  When he was done, he looked up at Winston. “All of these are reports from the firm. These show that they are in so much debt already.”

  Winston bobbed his head, and adjusted in his seat, so he could draw closer.

  “The runners say that they have also seen him frequenting gaming halls in the past few weeks. Although, he wears a disguise in an attempt to be discreet. He also hires a coach. It is quite easy to tell it’s him though.”

  Charles relaxed into his sofa and place his hand on his jaw. He heaved a deep sigh.

  Larson’s firm was a merchant company that dealt in importing furniture and clothing materials from the continent. They had been in the business for decades, and had once been the leading firm.

  However, lately, they had been relegated to the background. Now, Charles knew why. Larson was taking out funds, and putting nothing back in.

  “Do you think this is how Larson got into so much debt in the first place? He must have gambled it all away. I have never had the chance to play a game of cards with him, but I have heard that he is not so much of a worthy opponent.”

  “Word on the streets also says that he is a very proud one at that, a sore loser who does not know when to cut his losses. He must have bet away all of his fortune.

  “Quite sad, if you ask me,” Winston said. “He had succeeded in running the firm, and yet ran his family’s heritage to the ground.”

  Charles smiled sadly as he remembered his late father. “Father had told me, just before the illness took him away, that the late Lord Larson would have done better leaving the firm in his nephew’s hands. The boy has acted like Father had suspected he would. A shame.”

  “What could you do, Your Grace? He came to you with a handsome proposal. I am sure he must have gone to others too. He wants you to invest in a business that has nothing to give in return.”

  Again, Charles cracked a smile. It was a small one.

  Winston was one of the few people he smiled around. The boy had been in his service for eight years, since he was only fourteen. He ran all of Charles’ errands. He also took care of matters that Charles did not absolutely have to attend to, himself.

  Charles was proud of how far they had come. Winston had always been a bright lad, but now, he was so much wiser.

  He had also developed an uncanny knack for business. Charles had plans to make him the official manager of his company when the young man clocked twenty-five.

  “The proposal was handsome indeed. I never would have had cause to investigate if I had not gotten an untoward feeling about it.”

  The same untoward feeling that had led him to find out the truth about his sham marriage, all those years ago.

  Back then, he had been ungrateful for it, believing that blissful ignorance would have been the best. He had later realized that learning the truth, was much better than living a lie.

  “We shall have to act fast, of course. Make certain that no one falls into his traps.”

  He took one more look at the documents.

  “For now, we shall wait for more proof from the runners. It is quite clear that Larson plans to use our money to pay off his debts, and perhaps, run away. Not on my watch.”

  A sudden thought came to him.

  “I believe there is someone else we must bring into this. My brother-in-law, Thomas. Larson went to him with a proposal too, I believe. Thomas is a merchant by blood and bone. He may have better ideas as to how to bring Larson to justice.”

  “I agree, my lord. As always, a wise decision,” the young man concluded, smiling. It flattered Charles.

  “Thank you, Winston. You have done a good job with this one. Are there any other reports?”

  “Yes, my lord…”

  The young man continued, and this time, Charles listened attentively.

  They conversed at length about the family business, and also, affairs of his dukedom, Finchester. They were almost rounding off their discussion when his mother stepped into the study.

  She had two servants on her trail, and they both carried a tray of meal servings in their hands.

  “Ah. I knew you two would still be here, talking away. It has been three hours and not once have you requested for even tea. I decided if you would not come out for a meal, then I shall bring the meal to you.”

  Winston rose to greet her, his face lighting up with a smile. It was common knowledge that Charles’s mother saw the baron’s son as hers. He also regarded her as the mother he never had.

  He bowed and rose, before going to kiss her hand. “My lady, you are far too kind. You look lovely today, as always. Such ageless beauty.”

  The Dowager Duchess of Finchester smiled at the flattery. “Charles’ influence on you shows by the day. Only, this one has ceased to put his sweet words to use.”

  She eyed him, and he blissfully ignored her. He knew what she was on about. However, today was no day to discuss such things.

  The servants came to the table that stood between Winston and Charles, and deposited the trays. After pouring them wine, they curtsied and took their leave.

  His mother was about to follow suit when he stopped her, remembering the accounts.

  “Mother?”

  “Yes, son?”

  “There seems to be a little difficulty with the accounts. Something appears to be amiss. A total sum of three thousand pounds and then some change, went out of the purse in the past month. However, this ledger only accounts for two thousand.”

  The Duchess’ eyes widened. She quickly came forward to take the ledger from him. A quick glance was all she needed to see the problem.

  “Yes. You are right. I see where the mistake is.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  Charles heaved a sigh of relief. Winston had been right. His mother had made some purchase. She must have remembered now.

  “All of the household items we purchased from Mr. Raleigh seem to be less than the amount of the actual purchases. Right here, it says we paid two hundred and fifty pounds for the gas lamps. We paid four hundred, Charles.”

  Charles’ brow raised in question. What was his mother on about?

  “You mean you did not make a purchase you failed to mention?”

  She turned to give him an incredulous look. “When have I ever? Besides, I have too many things already. I have no need for anything new at the moment.”

  She continued, “All of the jewellery and clothes I bought with your sister will last me the season. And Thomas took care of them all.”

  They had gotten it wrong then. And if his mother was right about Mr. Raleigh, their trusted merchant…

  “Mother, if what you are saying is true, this means that Mr. Raleigh has been collecting a particular sum from the staff, but writing something else on the receipts?”

  His mother did not reply immediately. There was a pause and she appeared to be in thoughts.

  “Or, the servants whom we have been sending to make the purchase, have been hiking the prices for their benefits. We can only confirm this by speaking to them.”

  The servants? Why would they? He trusted
his household staff and he rewarded them with handsome wages. And Mr. Raleigh had been the family’s supplier for years. What reason would he have to start deceiving them now?

  “You are right, Mother. The only way to be sure, is by speaking to them. I do believe the hike was put on several other purchases, so that it wouldn’t be noticed. They all have summed up to a thousand pounds.”

  “Too much money for anyone to think to steal, believing it would go unnoticed. But greed knows no contentment.”

  Charles could not agree more. He nodded at his mother, and she nodded in return. As she spun to take her leave, he turned to look at Winston who had been quiet all this while.

  “We must eat. It seems to me that we have a long day ahead of us. First, we shall go to the market to speak with Mr. Raleigh. Then, we shall go to Thomas. Afterwards, we may meet with the runners.”

  It was settled. They delved into the delicious meal of bread and caribou stew. Afterwards, they stepped out of the house to continue this tiring day.

  Full and busy it may be, but the emptiness Charles carried inside him failed to be filled. Just as it failed for years now.

  He wondered if work was the answer. He wondered if there was any answer at all.

  He wondered if he was doomed to forever feel incomplete and unsatisfied.

  And so terribly alone.

  Chapter 3

  The hours passed by quickly, as they moved from store to store, and with every extra moment they spent in the market, Eleanor felt her inhibitions begin to leave her.

  By the time the third hour clocked, she knew that she could proudly say that she felt truly free and relaxed.

  She had other stops to make before heading back to the townhouse. The library was one of them. Remembering her promise to Edwin, she concluded that it would be best to leave the market, sooner rather than later.

  Just as she voiced out this thought to Frances, who agreed, a commotion broke out, catching her attention. Suddenly, everyone was going east, where they could hear the noise coming from.

  Eleanor shared an intrigued look with Frances and when her lady nodded, she did the same.

  Curious to see what was causing the hullabaloo, they too began walking in that direction. By the time they arrived at the scene, a crowd had formed, obstructing their views from what was truly happening.

  Squaring her shoulders, Eleanor held her head high and her spine straight. With that regal tone of command she rarely used, she spoke.

  “Excuse me.”

  A path began to clear for her upon those simple words. It was the effect of the regal tone, and when they turned to see that she was a lady indeed, more people stepped aside.

  This continued until she stood in front of the crowd, and had a clear view of what was happening.

  A quick look at the situation was all she needed to understand the matter.

  There, was a trader’s store with loaves of bread and fruits arranged in front, in an enticing manner that was sure to draw buyers. In front of the store stood an angry-looking bald man.

  A brown apron was tied to his waist. A loaf of bread was pressed in his one hand, while the other hand held on tightly to the shirt of a little boy.

  The boy looked not more than ten. His face was set in unremorseful, hard lines, but Eleanor was more concerned about his eyes.

  His eyes held fear, pain, and a twinge of tears. This boy was scared, and was simply putting up a façade of bravado.

  Sadly, Eleanor was aware that people often saw what they wanted to see. All they would see in this moment, was an unrepentant thief, and not a hungry little boy who had had to steal, for lack of better choices.

  “Ye must think yerself smart and fast, eh? Do ye not? Stealin’ mi bread an’ runnin’ off in a hurry, believin’ I wouldn’t catch ye, did ye? After all, an ol’ man like me would never be able to run like a young lad like ye, eh?”

  The trader’s hands fisted the boy’s shirt more tightly, drawing him closer to stare at him menacingly. The trader was bent at his waist in a bid to remain at eye level with the boy.

  The boy held his gaze, dauntless. Eleanor could see his legs wobble and his hands, which fell at his sides, shake.

  She observed his form. He was truly skinny, with delicate bones and little flesh to cover up these bones. His clothes were brown from dirt and his hair, too long from going for a long time without a proper cut.

  Her heart flew to her throat, beating fast for this poor child. Something in her gut twisted, but she held her peace, wanting to watch the scene unfold, knowing that she could only step in when the situation truly called for it.

  The trader’s bellow shook her out of her thoughts, once more. “Answer me boy! Ye gone deaf? Or mute? Ye an’ yer likes hav’ been stealin’ mi things for too long now. Any more and I might hafta close up and go into the streets with mi family!

  “No more! Ye shall be the first one I’ve caught, but I shall do well to make a good example of ye. What do ye suggest I do to ye? Eh boy?”

  Still, the boy said nothing. His frown grew harder by the minute. This only angered the trader more.

  As the man’s eyes flashed red, he threw the bread aside and lifted the boy up with two hands on his shirt.

  The boy dangled in the air, and Eleanor could hear amused gasps around her.

  “Ye not gon’ talk? I’ll teach ye how to speak and not to steal again!”

  He raised his hand in that moment, and Eleanor could not resist shutting her eyes and turning away as a loud smack sounded in the air.

  The silence that had held got disrupted by a loud cheer.

  “Serves him right!”

  “Hit him again!”

  “Damn street urchins!”

  “This will teach them not to steal!”

  The wave of anger that had begun to rise in Eleanor, pushed higher until it was on the tip of her tongue.

  She opened her eyes and looked back just in time to see the trader threatening to strike another slap across the boy’s chin.

  She saw a tear drop from the boy’s eyes, but his lips remained set in hard lines. Her heart went out to the poor child.

  As the cheers continued, her anger and disgust grew. Such inhuman treatment! How could they not have a twinge of pity for a hungry child?

  “Yer a tough one, eh? I shall hand you over to the constables for a proper whoopin’. When they’re done with ye, ye’ll not be able to sit on your behind for weeks, ye’ll see. It’d be a miracle if the skin on yer back don’t peel.”

  He raised his hand to slap the boy once more. Having had enough, Eleanor stopped him before he could strike again.

  “No more! I forbid you to lay another finger on that child!”

  The trader’s hand stopped mid-air and he turned around to look for whom the command had come from.

  Eleanor stepped forward, her chin raised.

  “Looking for me?” she said calmly, the anger she felt, barely remaining beneath the surface. Only if she had no veil on and they could see her face, they would apprehend how livid she was at this display of unabashed cruelty.

  “Let the child go. How much is the cost of what he stole? I shall pay five times for it, to cover for all the losses you might have acquired in the past one week.”

  The trader let the boy go instantly and when he fell to the ground with a thud, Eleanor winced.

  She would take the boy home, and see to it that any injuries he had would be treated. She would also make sure she offered him a home and employment in her household.

  She could not take every child off the street, but she could take a reasonable number. And she would.

  She stood her ground, her chin in the air as the trader advanced towards her. In his full height, he towered over her by a couple of inches and he had a strong build that gave him a dominating look.

  She was not afraid. If the little boy could stand his ground, so could she.

  Besides, he would never hit a woman, all the more, a lady. It was forbidden. Surely, he knew he woul
d pay a dear cost if he thought to attempt it.

  “And who might ye be, milady? What makes ye think you have a say in this matter?”

  She saw him search her eyes which was the only visible feature on her face. For a moment, her heart flipped and picked up a rough pace. She wondered if he would identify her.

  She was quick to see the absurdity of her fear. She had never met this man in her entire life. She would remember, she never forgot faces.