Romancing the Past

by Darcy Burke

  "Ah, well if you look over here," he moved on, no doubt unhappy of losing such a sale. "I was a lucky bloke this time round. I have for you the world's finest cinnamon and anise from the orient. I also have lemons and limes. What else are you looking for, Miss?"

  "Well, shall we start with the anise? What have you for a price?" When he rattled off the price, Ella felt the world shift.

  "Sir, do you realize that price is double from what you quoted me last year past?" Hoping to barter, knowing there were other ships with much better prices down the line.

  "It was a mighty hard sail this time round. I lost a good lot of my first cargo," he interjected with quiet, but painful misery. This, by looking at his inventory, was not accurate.

  "I am dreadfully sorry, sir, but if I were to pay such a price, I would be running myself out of business."

  The captain turned a rather unmanly shade of pink, as he began to mutter. Before he had a chance to counter her much less than desired offer, she smiled and pushed ahead to the next item.

  "What of the cinnamon?" she asked, bending to the barrel, inhaling deeply the rich scent. She loved the smell. The added benefit that it could be stored for an extended period made it a staple to flavor everything from tarts to meat pies.

  Again, the price was too high. Ella recorded the prices he offered and moved on. Not the vendor for her. She still had many ships to visit before her scheduled meeting, but she did need to go to the bank beforehand to acquire the amount the blackmailers demanded. There had to be a way to ferret them out and end this. However, what was it? Moving to the next ship, she focused on her notebook once again.

  ♥♥♥

  Devon watched as Ella haggled with the most unsavory of men. Then she would jot prices, he assumed, into her little notebook. He wasn't sure what annoyed him more, the fact she felt this was required of her, or the fact that she was good at it. There was no doubt he would grind his teeth to dust before this day ended.

  He was beginning to understand just a small part of how Ella could have been so exhausted last night. A good sentnight in a hot bath would suit him just fine. Yesterday's ride had been hard physically and emotionally. Riding to catch up, then being filled with concern for Ella's health as he watched her become frail in front of his eyes, had not been a benefit.

  Had that been the end of it until this morning, it would have sufficed, but no such luck.

  It was a good thing he didn't gamble much anymore.

  He then spent a fitful and uncomfortable night sitting vigil over her as she slept. He only just made his escape this morning before the maids started their work. Acquiring a room of his own, he changed into a clean shirt with haste. Devon washed the road dirt from his face, scrubbing the now visible stubble. With no shaving tools, it would only add to his already haggard appearance.

  As a vendor strolled by selling meat pies, Devon's stomach groaned from hunger. He stopped the boy and purchased three. The young entrepreneur trotted off with three times what he expected, as Devon didn't bother to get change. The cold pie tasted good which surprised him. He had never before bought any fare from a street vendor. He chuckled that by default, it was Ella who introduced him to such a novelty.

  Looking up from his feast, he found her. His eyes were drawn to her. So petite and delicate, yet she handled herself with efficiency and a regal air. Just then, she stopped to admire something other than blasted food stores. Devon walked closer to see what would catch his frugal wife's attention.

  Hanging on a peg, Ella was admiring a silken shawl. Bright red with embroidered flowers of every conceivable color. It was bold, but at the same time, wholly feminine. It was Ella. He knew without a doubt, if she bought something frivolous, it would be the elephant for Maddie and not the shawl. Devon was not close enough to hear what was said, but he saw her shoulders rise and fall with a sigh before turning from both items as if to forget their existence. She went to work marking down prices. She didn't look happy in response to something the weathered braggart said. Having promised himself he would just watch her, Devon all but crawled in his skin with the need to put the man in his place. He was talking to an English Viscountess after all. He should show some respect.

  But here, she wasn't a Viscountess. She wasn't his Viscountess. All of a sudden, his three meat pies didn't settle so well with the knot forming in his gut. She didn't want to be his anything. Well, that was going to change. It had to.

  As Ella moved on, Devon moved too, careful not to be noticed by her escort. If he were Ella's first defense against attack, they were all in trouble. The man, well boy, Devon concluded, couldn't keep track of Ella and all the other people in the crowd at the same time. Devon had been following them since they left the inn and not once did the young man take notice of him. He would make sure Ella was aware of his shortcomings, or at the very least, give the blighter a lesson or two of his own. If his plan didn't work... it had to work. Hhe would not leave Ella unprotected.

  One hour later, Ella had finished calculating in her notebook and made her way from the docks to the center of town. This time, her escort walked with her side by side. The trip would have been much more comfortable by hack, but perhaps she couldn't afford such a luxury. In the crowded city, Devon was forced to get closer to the couple as not to lose them. In doing so, he was also able to hear their topic of conversation.

  "Well, I think I did very well today. Prices are going up, but I won't have to raise the price of bread just yet, which is fortunate, because with all the rain, I am not sure the villagers would be able to afford it," Ella said.

  "As my Penny has said time and again, you give half your loaves away anyway."

  Ella chuckled, but not of humor. Devon thought it was more from embarrassment.

  Changing the subject, Ella went on, "I will not be long in the bank because I sent a letter ahead so they would be expecting me. Give me half an hour, then flag down a hack. I don't care to make this same trip back to the docks alone with that amount of money."

  Trip back? To the docks? Alone? Alone, being without the younger man? What money?

  Devon's head swam. If she hopped in a hack in the center of the city, how in bloody hell would he be able to protect her. A chill ran down his spine with droplets of sweat.

  "I still don't like the idea of you alone. Why can't I ride in the hack and just stay out of sight?"

  Alleluia, the boy had some intelligence and he was using it! Good chap!

  Ella sighed, exasperation clear in her tone. Not good. "Eric, I have told you already they said bring no one. They will know you. They obviously have been watching me for some time if they know so much about me. I can't risk it."

  "But–"

  "No, they aren't going to harm me. I have something they want and they have all but informed me they are not finished draining my accounts yet, so just go back to the inn and wait. I will come to the stables the moment I return to assure you of my safety."

  "All right," the young man gave in. Coward! "If you are not back by three o'clock, I will be returning to the docks after you."

  "Fair enough." Ella put her hand on his arm as they reached the steps to the large bank building. "And Eric, thank you."

  "Now, you know after what you've done for my Penny I would do anything for you."

  "Well, thank you anyway." She turned heading up the marble steps "Remember, give me one half hour."

  The young man smiled and waved before she disappeared inside the bank.

  Ella was in trouble. The fear fell heavy in his chest, almost making it impossible to breathe. She was in trouble and didn't tell him. That part of the truth stung, but to her way of thinking, he knew it made sense. First, he was a man. He knew from experience the men Ella had dealt with, her father in particular, were not the kind to fix problems, but rather to cause them. Secondly, they had a deal, and to Ella that deal was binding. She had promised not to be a burden and ever come to him for assistance. She might still think the stipulation about going to debtor's prison was sti
ll an option. Lastly, she was trying to be independent. If she asked for help, she would be failing in her estimation.

  Yes, he knew her motives too well. They would be his if he were in the same situation. He knew none of her reasons were valid, but he could see the logic. Trust no one, keep your promises, and prove to the masses you can handle anything. It had served him well in business, though not so well in his personal life.

  Devon reached the top of the stairs before realizing he had been climbing them. More information was needed in order to be of any help. The bank was a good starting point. If he could see whom she was talking with, he could use his title and his money as a bribe, even in Scotland, to find out everything about his wife's financial well-being. Beating her back to the docks would not be an issue, as moving on foot was much quicker than a hack maneuvering through traffic.

  Inside the bank, it was cool. As his eyes adjusted, it was easy to find his wife. She was the only female. Banks were not a place women frequented with regularity, so he was not the only one who took notice. She was sitting with a very young, green-looking bank clerk discussing paperwork. The clerk rose and made his hurried way across the bank, disappearing in the back. The interior was resplendent with large marble pillars and floor, making Ella's serviceable travel gown look dingy set off by the white of the marble. She looked so small sitting under the vaulted, cathedral style dome with large windows running the length of one wall. Though they flooded the expanse with light, they looked as though they might gobble her small form up.

  The young man came back with as much purpose as when he left. Ella, who had been sitting straight, perched on the edge of her chair sat straighter, if it was possible. The man took the bank notes and counted them out for her. Devon couldn't hear the man count, but the amount was large, that was obvious. A shot of renewed fear lanced through him. Whatever trouble she was in, it was not to trifle with.

  Ella put the notes into her satchel, thanked the clerk, and made haste out into the sunlight. He watched through the window, as she was handed into the hack by the boy and was whisked away toward the docks.

  Devon turned, directing all of his attentions to the young clerk. No one else as of yet had grabbed the empty chair, so Devon made determined strides across the room to extract all the information he needed.

  Ten minutes later, Devon was back out on the street making his way through the maze of people and buildings that was greater Edinburgh. The information he garnered spun in his brain. He made his way back from where he came, and sure enough, reached the docks in time to see a swish of gray skirt round the corner by the wharf. He made haste and turned the same corner, stopping dead. She was back at one of the ships. It wasn't a ship she had visited in the morning. This one had the look and feel of a smuggler's ship, dirty and sinister.

  The captain was more than weathered and scraggly. This man was dangerous, and his wife was speaking to him. In fact, she was close enough so he could grab her if he so chose.

  Blasted!

  Devon walked past and made his way to another ship selling its wares. He couldn't hear a word being said, but Ella's posture was stiff and skittish. She reached into the satchel pulling out the folded pile of bank notes.

  She might have been scared, but Devon noticed she was using her head. She held the notes close to her chest with her hand extended palm up waiting for something. After what Devon was sure was a moment to try to intimidate, the ugly man placed an envelope in her hand and reached for the notes. Ella grabbed them back from him to examine the letter.

  Devon was just about to intervene when the man chuckled and stepped back, arms crossed waiting for her to decide. She made up her mind and handed the notes over. She turned and all but ran from the wharf. Remembering her comment to Eric about being watched, Devon took another route between two buildings to the other side of the docks and reached them in time to see Ella re-enter the hack and turn toward the inn.

  He had two choices. He could hope that Ella confide in him and ask for his help, or he could go into her room and read what was in that letter for himself.

  The first choice would show him in a better light, but if his wife and daughter were in danger, he would be happy to have his wife mad at him. After all, if she were mad at him that meant she was alive. Alive was more important now. He would see that letter tonight.

  Chapter 6

  Never having stayed more than one night at the inn, Ella was unprepared for the evening bustle when she returned from the docks. Her nerves, worn and tattered from the afternoon meeting, only acted to pique her current level of anxiety. All the way back in the hack, she had been trying to name her unknown blackmailers. She had hoped to arrive early to order a tray in her room, and take a quiet evening to regain some control.

  Head bent, she jostled her way through the throng, attempting to make it to her room. It was not to be. As she would have placed her slipper on the first stair, the innkeeper intercepted her. Ella gave as kind a smile as she was able and waited while the man caught his breath.

  "Ah, Madame, ye almost got passed, dinnae ye?" he said with a jovial smile.

  "Yes, sir. Having had such a full afternoon, I am looking forward to finding my bed."

  The man's unease was apparent as he glanced behind him at a closed door and shifted his feet, making the skin on Ella's arms prickle. What would it matter if she were hoping to take to her bed?

  "Well, not just yet as ye have a visitor, and from his speech, direct from London. Says he has some business with ye."

  Devon.

  Well, so much for a quiet evening to gain control over her once ordered life. She should have expected he would follow her. Didn't he once say he always got what he wanted?

  "Where is the gentleman?"

  "Oh, he's in the private parlor; ordered a meal for himself and you. About every half hour, he comes out asking if you've returned. Shall I announce you?"

  "No, thank you. I must at least tidy my person. I won't be more than a few moments. Please don't announce me."

  The innkeeper gave her a dubious look, but nodded and left. No doubt if Devon had arrived earlier today, the poor innkeeper had been hounded to death. Her husband did not like to wait. It was, of course, more likely that he had arrived yesterday, and the mystery of how she made it to her bed, and the empty chair was solved. She should be horrified and angry at his presumptuous behavior, but instead, a shiver ran along her spine, and her heart swelled at his care.

  Her husband.

  The thought brought her up short and she almost tripped going up the steps. She couldn't decide if the butterflies wreaking havoc in her stomach were anticipation or warning. She knew it would be prudent to assume the latter, but the thought of Devon sitting in dinner attire sent little chills through her body. No, she couldn't keep thinking of him that way. When she thought of them being man and wife, her mind would drift to their one night together, and... well, that wouldn't do at all. Since his return to her life, every time they interacted, she felt more anticipation than trepidation. If this continued, she would be lost again. Racing up the stairs to her room, she cleaned her face, tidied her hair, and donned the best of the gowns she had brought with her. When dealing with Devon one must be at her best. With any hope, her appearance would give her strength.

  The back parlor was attached to the main room by a thick oak door. Ella swung it open hoping to gain a glimpse before he saw her. Where the door was silent, the noise of the taproom was not, and Devon turned from the fire to catch her in his gaze.

  Her breath caught. His eyes held such intense emotion that she all but turned and ran from the room. The fire cast shadows over every rigid angle of his face. Feeling the urge to apologize for keeping him waiting rose in her throat, Ella instead, cleared it away and broke eye contact. Not sure why he had followed her, Ella decided to play the game.

  "Good evening, my Lord. I wasn't aware you intended to take in the local fare on your visit. How are you liking your trip thus far?" Careful to keep a good distance b
etween them, she moved around the large round table set for two and made her way to the dark window, but it was of no use. His presence made the room small and she could feel all around her.

  Devon made a show of bowing before answering. "I am finding Edinburgh as I find the rest of Scotland, damp, cold, and wholly not to my liking, my lady." He added her title with a tone that spoke more of possession, than social rank.

  "I am sorry you are more inclined to the more genteel clime of London. I trust you will be in a hurry to return soon then?" The energy between them crackled around the room. Devon prowled around the room to her side. The hairs on her arms buzzed with the energy surging from him.

  "I must stay until my business is complete."

  Before Ella could comment on what business he meant, either to steal her daughter away, or to force her to give up everything and live a loveless life in London with him, the innkeeper's wife appeared with a tray carrying lamb stew and fresh biscuits with poached buttered potatoes. The smell made Ella's mouth water.

  "Shall we?" Devon's husky tone and proximity made her jump. Looking up into his eyes, they were no less intense, but not as hard. If she were to guess, amusement danced in their depths. Was he enjoying their verbal sparring? She doubted it. Her father always said that was her greatest fault. Well, there were many faults he called her greatest, but he mentioned her propensity to argue more than others. She also remembered the time spent in Devon's company. He had enjoyed a good discussion and they had more than once exchanged verbal banter. She had to remind herself he wasn't her father, or perhaps she should make an attempt not to remember it. Thinking he was like her father would help keep him at arm's length, but it would be a lie, and her sense of fairness would not allow it.