A Mouse for the Duke

by Lynn Landes

  “I will, thank you.” Declan pays him and walks him to the door. After Elliot leaves, Declan thinks about his caution as he walks inside.

  His grandfather is propped in his bed with a cold compress over his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” he grumbles and removes the rag. “Did you find her, Declan?” Matthew asks from his bed.

  “No.” He sits beside the bed. “Tell me what you remember.”

  “The same thing I told the police this morning.” He grumbles and runs a hand over his face.

  “A female tried to help open the bay doors. It’s got to be the same woman. The firemen remember a woman dressed as a maid. They couldn’t give any details. Too much chaos going on,” Declan says.

  “The smoke was so thick after the explosion.” Matthew rubs his bruised head. “I was blinded by smoke and fire, Declan. I couldn’t see anything. She put her life at risk and helped me get to the door. Just before the second blast, she shoved me to safety. That young woman saved my life. There is no way I would've found my way to the door in my state.”

  “Don’t worry, we will find her,” Declan promises and takes the withered hand in his. “Did she say anything?”

  “No, though she seemed to know us by name.” Matthew describes in detail the moment after the explosions. “Declan, I’m sure I wouldn’t have escaped without her help.”

  “I'm sorry I couldn't get to you. When I turned to run to you, the explosion happened, raining debris and flames in between us. I ran to the doors, but they were stuck…”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation, Declan. Though I wish you’d get those doors fixed. Like I told you to months ago.”

  Declan stares at his grandfather and takes in the bruises, scrapes, and scratches, and his heart sinks. “It's being taken care of today. You rest.”

  Chapter 8

  “Fire at Sheridan Furniture!” George Hubbard snaps the paper with triumph and grins at his partners. “It's all going according to plan. We simply wait for the investors to start dumping the stocks, and we scoop them up.”

  “Are you positive they won't just write it off as a loss. I mean, the family is titled over in Europe. They obviously have money, why would they care about a furniture company?”

  “I asked Declan the same thing, over dinner a few nights ago. It would seem that he invested all of his savings into the new product line. They are counting on the it to increase their holdings,” George grins.

  London stays perfectly still as usual against the wall and fumes as she listens. Sweat covers her forehead and her injuries are throbbing. He is planning to ruin Declan's business, and he injured his grandfather, not to mention her! The man is devious, and he obviously doesn't care about the fact that his daughter is marrying him. Today she will have to take more drastic action. She would never forgive herself if the Sheridan family ended up broken like her father!

  “How long till the investors start dumping the stock?”

  “Three days from now, we will buy out the majority share.”

  London doesn't blink as the information sinks in. She has two days to get them to listen to her. If not, she will buy up the majority shares and pray that his grandfather will understand and reimburse her.

  London waits for the meeting to clear out before she limps to the telegraph. She quickly sends the order for her investor to buy up all the stock he can in two days. She hears Lady Sheridan coming as she shouts at a housemaid in the hallway. She starts cleaning up the tea service.

  “Mouse!” Lady Sheridan snaps from the doorway, causing her to jump and almost drop the teapot.

  “Yes, my Lady,” she carefully sets the teapot on the tray and rolls the cart towards the door.

  “There has been a change of plans. We are leaving this evening for the Bronte Hotel. I will need you to see to all the packing. Make sure nothing is left behind. The next four days will be busy.”

  “How long will I need to pack for?” London asks.

  “A week. George has decided to host the wedding from the Grand Ballroom! We simply don’t have enough room for all the guests here.” Tessa is glowing with excitement.

  “I'm counting on you to do a good job. If all goes well, after the nuptials, you will become my new lady's maid.” Tessa stares at her, clearly expecting a response.

  “Oh, you're too kind,” London gasps and curtsies. “Thank you.” In her heart, she thinks, over my dead body.

  “Yes, well. It will depend on how well the wedding goes.” She turns in her gown, and the wave of perfume causes London to bring a finger to her nose. “I like the gloves. They give an extra layer of professionalism. Make sure all the maids get some. Leave the cart. The others will take care of it. You need to help pack for us.”

  “Yes, my lady,” she says as she pushes the tray from the room and follows her up the stairs. Now, what do I do? The only thing she can think is to mail a letter. Lady Hubbard shouts for her, and she deflates, if she can find the time.

  Chapter 9

  “The wedding is in a few days. You need to stop worrying about the stocks and enjoy this moment,” Matthew insists.

  “I’m not sure the wedding will be in a few days. I’m thinking about postponing it until next month,” Declan announces.

  “Absolutely not!” Matthew leaps to his feet and moves to the end of the table. “The Hubbard’s left last night for the Bronte Hotel. The first party is tonight!”

  “Party! What on earth are you talking about?” Declan runs a hand over his bearded face.

  “Declan, do you ever listen,” Matthew rumbles. “The family moved the wedding to the Grand Ballroom at the Bronte Hotel due to the number of guests coming. It's the party of the year!”

  Declan stares at him with his mouth open. “I told you I wanted a simple affair, not a circus!”

  “I understand, but your bride to be insisted.”

  “Does no one care that I almost lost my business two nights ago?” Declan shouts. “Everything I have is tied up in this custom furniture line, grandfather!”

  “I'm well aware of that, Declan. You said the losses weren't significant, and we have an agreement. I will see to it that my word is kept. I can help you rebuild, son. You know I wouldn't sit back and let your dreams go up in smoke.”

  “As long as I do it your way?” Declan grumbles.

  “Exactly! Now tell me what is going on with your business.”

  “It's the stocks. The newspaper is printing outrageous lies, and the investors are already starting to dump the stocks.”

  “Investors are jumpy, son. They’ll come back once the drama dies down.”

  “Perhaps, but I need to work, not worry about getting married!”

  “Declan, you have your priorities all turned around. You're getting married this weekend if I have to drag you to the Bronte Hotel by your hair!” he demands.

  “What good will it do to have a bride if I can’t provide for her?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Declan. You are a Sheridan! A Duke, and you know that one setback will not determine who you are or your worth!”

  “Grandfather, you built Sheridan Furniture with my father. I intend with this custom line to take it global. I want to ensure your legacy, that’s all.”

  Matthew walks over and stares hard into his eyes. “You are my legacy. Not some store.”

  “Thank you for saying that, but I need to contribute to our family name. Not rely on a trust fund or inheritance. Working brings me joy. I need it.”

  “A man can’t live on work alone, Declan, you need love and family. I don’t want to leave this earth knowing you are alone.” Suddenly exhausted, Matthew leans heavier on his cane and walks slowly to the table.

  “Someone tried to destroy my business and didn't care that we were inside. We could've died! I'm having a hard time enjoying anything right now. I have to get back to the shop and salvage what I can. I'm meeting with a reporter to give a real account of the accident, and for the first time, I'm allowing them inside to ta
ke photographs. Hopefully, that will make the investors less jumpy.”

  “Don't forget that many of the investors will be at this party. You can ease their worries, and by showing that you’re not concerned. I'll see to getting us packed. We're leaving this afternoon for the Bronte Hotel. The party is at seven.”

  “I’ll be back on time,” Declan utters as he leaves.

  Matthew thinks about the gentle voice of the young lady who saved him. He's convinced he would've died if she hadn't arrived on time. His vision is much improved, but during the fire, he was blinded. It would've taken a miracle for him to escape. How will he find her to thank her?

  He sighs deeply and sips on his tea. Perhaps he can hire an investigator after the wedding to find her. Matthew grins as he thinks about the wedding. Soon his promise will be complete, and he can rest.

  Chapter 10

  Declan stares at his shop, and anger vibrates through his body. Luck played a huge part in the fact that the shop didn't burn or spread to the whole building. No one saw anything. The builders he's hired have been able to replace the front doors, and the inside has been cleared out. They moved the pieces they were able to save.

  The smoke damage wasn't as bad as the newspaper made it seem. The article should be published tomorrow, but already the investors are dumping the stocks. The only question now is how low they will go.

  He is well aware that he will inherit from his grandfather, but he has a burning desire inside to make his own mark. Growing up at his father's feet, watching them craft, and build furniture taught him the meaning of hard work. Leaving England when he was a young man to come to America and expand the family business was his idea. He feels responsible for its success or failure.

  There's no time for romance. That will come later. He's going through with this for his grandfather, to give him the peace he seems to need. Marrying a woman he doesn't love to appease him doesn't sit well. It has snowballed so quickly he's not sure how to back out at this late stage.

  Declan sighs, sitting heavily inside his shop and lifts up a tool. When did he become such a pushover? Say what you want, he thinks, but there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for someone he loves. He locks up the shop and heads home. Time to go to a party.

  Chapter 11

  London puts the finishing touches on Reagan's dark hair and steps back to look at her. She is oddly quiet and fidgets with her gloves. They are a perfect complement to the golden silk ball gown. Her hair shines with beautiful flowers strategically placed, and around her throat is a choker given to her from her father.

  “You look beautiful,” London says softly. Her leg is throbbing, and it's time for the lotion on her hand. The ball began twenty minutes ago, but Lady Hubbard insists on being late.

  “Thank you, I only wish this night were over with.” Reagan sighs and stands to straighten her dress.

  “It will go by quickly, I’m sure. You should try to enjoy yourself and get to know your husband to be,” she suggests.

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Reagan jumps when someone pounds on the door.

  Lady Hubbard sweeps inside, she is breathtaking in her silver bustled gown and draped in jewels. The design of her dark hair is intricate braids and long curls with a large number of flowers. Her tiny corseted waist is draped in ribbons and flours leading down to the floor in a gorgeous train.

  “It’s time.”

  Reagan nods and follows them quickly from the room. London sighs and sits with relief when the door shuts. She drags off her gloves and removes the stocking from her calf. The red, rippled skin on her leg is starting to heal. It was minor compared to her hand. Thankfully, her calf didn't blister, like her hand. The palm is swollen with a huge blister. Using the cream Elliot gave her, she spreads it over her calf and wraps it in gauze before pulling the stocking back up. It is only when she is soaking her blistered hand in a bowl of cool water that the idea strikes her.

  “Visit the ball and try to talk to Lord Sheridan! London, you're an idiot!” She jumps up and hurries to her room to dig out her gown from her trunk.

  She never travels without two outfits to change into. “What is the chance they will recognize the midnight blue silk gown?” Glancing at it with a frown, she shakes her head. “No, the seamstress re-worked it according to my instructions.” The original neckline was too low for London to feel respectable, so she had her add layers of black lace ruffled around the top. The bustled skirt had layers of ruffles, flowers, and trims, which London had removed and replaced with a sheer mesh overlay of black lace. The resulting gown is simple and stunning.

  After a glance in the mirror, she removes her glasses and hangs her maids uniform up before releasing her hair from the tight bun. Running out of time, she brushes it until it shines and twists the sides of her hair, leaving the back down, allowing the tight waves to release.

  Stepping into the gown, London glances at herself in the mirror and smiles. Hard work and time has changed her body. Gone is the young girl, and in her place a young woman stands. London is surprised to see the pride in her eyes reflected back at her. This is how she's supposed to look. She slides on the long black silk gloves and hisses at the pain in her hand.

  “Find Lord Sheridan, warn him, then disappear. No one will be the wiser. The Mouse will return, and the lady will disappear.” She nods at her reflection and stands up, reminding herself to stand tall.

  Once these balls were regular occurrences when she was younger. The rules were driven into her soul by her mother and nanny. They are less frequent now, but getting an invitation was the talk of the city.

  “Without an invitation. I’ll just have to blend in and hope that I will go unnoticed.”

  London takes the stairs down to the Grand Ballroom and can hear the music as she walks towards it. Her late arrival will help. She falls into a group of girls walking back into the ballroom, acting like she’s always been there.

  “Would you care for some punch,” one of the ladies asks London.

  “Oh, yes, please,” she murmurs and scans the crowd.

  The gossip is floating heavily on the air, as the ladies chatter about who is dancing and who isn’t. They talk about fashion and compare dance cards.

  “I heard that Mrs. Hubbard makes them call her Lady Hubbard.” The red-haired girl laughs and whispers, “As if she could be a Lady.”

  “It's preposterous. Everyone knows that her family has no holdings in England or family with a title,” another girl responds.

  “Convenient that she's marrying her step-daughter to a real Duke,” another girl quips. “I’ve heard her bragging about becoming his mistress.”

  “She wishes,” the girls laugh, and London smiles accepting a glass of punch to quench her thirst. “Thank you.”

  “If I have to dance with one more lecherous old man,” another girl says, fanning herself, “I will die.”

  “Be careful, Miss Townes, you’d be lucky to have one of them choose you, after what I’ve heard about your family finances,” Miss Bryant teases.

  Miss Townes blushes while some of the lady's snicker behind their fans. This is the part London remembers hating, and she sighs when Miss Townes flies from the ballroom into the hallway.

  London scans the ballroom looking for Reagan and spots her standing with her parents. Reagan is staring across the room, and it's clear that she is upset. London follows her stare and to her surprise, finds she is gazing at a young man across the ballroom. Edmund!

  “Where is Lord Sheridan?” She hears a woman ask the very question she’s wondering.

  “He is getting air, again. Probably worried about his fortune after the fire.”

  “Or he’s worried about his grandfather. I heard the old man was hurt in the fire. The way he dotes on him is amazing.” Excellent, now she knows where to find them. London sips her punch and strides quickly from the ballroom. When she hears soft weeping, she sighs and walks towards it.

  Miss Townes is beneath a stairwell, and she freezes in surprise when she sees London
looking at her.

  “Don’t let them get to you, Miss Townes, they are only jealous because you are dancing more than they are.”

  “Your being kind,” she sniffs, and her nose is red, and eyes are blotchy. “I haven’t seen you before.”

  London sighs and takes a powder puff from her small black satchel hanging from her wrist. “No, you haven't. Look up.” She powders the young woman's nose and cheeks and smiles at her as she closes the compact. “Much better.”

  “Thank you. What’s your name?”

  London ignores the question.

  “Miss Townes, if you want to survive these events, allow me to give you a suggestion. Find the meanest young lady and dance with her hopeful at least once. Laugh and enjoy it, and if she attacks you again, I'd dance with him twice.”

  “I could never!” Miss Townes laughs at the outrageous suggestion. London loops her arm through hers and walks her back to the entrance of the ballroom.

  “They're going to attack you no matter what you do. You're younger and prettier, and you have a full dance card. Hold your head up and get back in there.” They walk through the hall towards the entrance of the ballroom. “I'm looking for the garden, can you direct me.”

  “Of course. It’s through the door and two lefts.”

  London watches Miss Townes walk inside with her head held high and nods in satisfaction before walking quickly towards the lantern-lit garden. The cold night air is a relief after the stuffiness of the crowded ballroom. Music drifts on the wind giving the night a touch of romance. Different paths of carved shrubs lead to sculptures, and no doubt lovers taking advantage of the privacy.

  Once, she loved to dance, but no more. After living behind the scenes of this world, she now sees things differently. She's thinking about that as she strolls around a large fountain, ignoring the looks shooting her way. A young lady unescorted at night is not proper, but she's out of time to worry about that.