A Mouse for the Duke

by Lynn Landes

“That is why I sold shares in the company, to be able to finance the next step without sinking all of our family money into the business.”

  “Very good,” London nods and watches as he points out tools and explains the job of each. “Most companies don't realize that. Using investors is smart on multiple levels. It keeps interest in your product and eyes on your company, which only builds your brand.”

  Declan grins at her, “I admit my heart is here, buried in the wood, working, smelling and …”

  “Creating,” they say at the same moment. London laughs with him, and he guides her to the door. She glances wistfully at the piano in the corner, “You're a craftsman, Declan, don't ever lose that, it's a gift.”

  He nods and closes the doors, not trusting himself to speak just yet. “What are your plans today?” he asks as they walk back through the garden to the gazebo.

  “I need to go to town,” she replies.

  “Why?” he asks. London hesitates and smiles with embarrassment as she answers.

  “I need to send telegrams to my broker.”

  Declan laughs softly, “I thought you used all your money?” he asks as they reach the center of the garden.

  “I did, but I also advise clients on how they need to invest.” Declan stops walking and stares at her with shock. “It’s a second stream of income.”

  “How did you do that and work for the Hubbard’s?”

  “That was simple, I used the telegraph they had installed in the office.”

  “They have a personal telegraph, and you know how to use it?” he asks with awe in his voice.

  London laughs at his reaction.

  “It was necessary to learn,” she says. His laughter echoes through the garden, sending birds flying away.

  “Really? I don’t see what’s so amusing,” she sniffs as if hurt by his amusement.

  He steps into her space, gripping her waist. Both of them freeze, and his smile fades as he lowers his mouth towards hers.

  “London, I’m going to kiss you now,” he murmurs just before their lips meet.

  She knows she should stop him, but she can't bring herself to care. It feels like they are alone in the world, and nothing else matters, but this second. Softly his lips brush hers, delicately he tastes her, as if afraid she will evaporate. London feels the warmth of his hands on her waist, and she pulls out of his grip.

  Declan lets her go but doesn’t apologize.

  “I think we are confusing things, Declan.” She stares at him with wide eyes full of confusion, “Our contract…”

  “Is safe, but I can’t seem to keep from wishing it was null and void,” Declan smiles at her jolt of surprise. “Let’s go to town. I’d love to show you around.”

  “Are you certain that’s a good idea,” she asks as he grips her hand gently in his.

  “Absolutely, I promise to keep my hands to myself, but I give you permission to kiss me as often as you wish.”

  “Declan!” she gapes at him and narrows her eyes, “that’s not going to happen.”

  “We’ll see,” he says confidently and pulls her along through the garden. “I’ve been told I’m irresistible.”

  Chapter 23

  “How did it work?” Declan asks about her business as they ride into town in the carriage.

  “It was easier in New York because I could study the ticker tapes and use the information to invest my earnings. The first year I invested small amounts, but in the past two years, I've had to be bolder with my investments.”

  “Why?” he asks.

  “It was becoming stifling living with the Hubbard’s. Tessa is aggressive and territorial.” London’s eyes whip to his, “in fact, she was quite besotted with you.”

  Declan grunts, “That’s just mean, London.”

  She giggles, and he laughs with her. “In truth, she was besotted with anyone with money.”

  “You’ve saved me from sharks, Lady Sheridan. Now that I’m married, I won’t be chased by every mother in New York looking to match their daughters.”

  “You’re welcome,” she laughs and straightens her dress. His eyes trail over her light blonde hair and he longs to thread his fingers through it.

  “How will I ever thank you for everything you’ve done for me?” he asks in all seriousness.

  “You’ve saved me from a dangerous living situation and offered me your understanding and friendship. I can’t think of a better thank you, Declan.”

  “Friendship is a good place to start, though I don’t kiss my friends,” he teases. She blushes and looks away from him. He decides to give her a reprieve.

  “Is it hard to find the information you need in the paper? I can’t see how you decipher it.”

  London nods, “It is harder to use the paper, but I don’t have access to a ticker tape, so I make do.”

  “I see. I have some shopping to do in town. I need supplies for the workshop. Is it alright if I leave you?”

  “Of course, I will need to go to the post office and send a few telegrams. It should take about a half-hour. I want to mail a letter to Elliot and Dillon as well.”

  “Perfect. Take this,” he offers her a roll of cash, and she stares at it with surprise.

  “It doesn’t feel right taking money from you, Declan,” she frowns.

  “Well, considering I’ve taken all of your money, it’s the least I can do. Now take it, Wife, and wait here for me. I’ll be quick.”

  Wife, the word strikes her heart, and she wishes for a moment that it was true, but she'd never allowed herself to dream so big. Tucking the money into her small drawstring bag, she climbs down.

  The driver drops London off, and Declan watches her walk away with a frown. She's very independent, he thinks, but that's what he wanted, wasn't it? An intelligent woman with a compassionate heart, and that's London.

  He has to figure out how to keep her. Life with London would never be dull or boring. Together they would make an incredible team. Now to make her see it.

  London watches the carriage pull off, and she hurries inside to send her telegrams. Declan is nothing like she expected. He accepts her quirks and doesn't diminish her talents or skills to make himself feel good. That is a rare gift.

  “Kiss him indeed,” she mutters to herself with a small smile as she waits in line to send her messages.

  He’s very cocky, she thinks and remembers his mouth on hers. Keeping her hands to herself could be harder than she thought. The last boyfriend she had was a sixteen-year-old boy, not a man like Declan. Husband, her heart reminds her, not boyfriend. In paper only, London! She argues with herself.

  “Next!” the clerk calls.

  London sends her telegrams and mails her letter then settles down to wait for her husband to return. The Western Union is across the street. It would be better to have the most current information on the market, and they have a ticker tape, she frowns. “I can be done before he returns,” she whispers and dashes from the shop.

  Fresh air lifts a stray strand of hair, and she savors the freedom of the moment. Walking along as herself is liberating, and she is smiling as she enters the Western union.

  “Hello,” she greets the clerk. “I'm Lady Sheridan, my husband wants me to take a look at today's ticker tapes.” Guilt causes her cheeks to flush. One day she hopes to be free to trade as herself.

  “Yes, of course,” the clerk suggests she follow her. She takes her to a private room where the tape is running. The continuous sound that London has come to love fills the room. It’s a significant tick, as the numbers and letters are transmitted.

  “If I could glance at them, I could write down what he needs,” London suggests.

  “Of course. I’ll wait at the door.”

  “It shouldn't take long,” she murmurs and glances through the tape. It's in alphabetical order, she scans and finds the S for Sheridan and glances in shock at the numbers beside it.

  “Oh!” She scribbles some numbers and begins flipping the tape back, looking for yesterday's number and
the day before. “Do you have the tape for the last two weeks?”

  “Of course. If you take a seat out in the lobby, I'll bring them to you.”

  “Thank you,” London says and moves into the lobby to a table near the window. Her stomach drops when she watches Declan jump from the carriage across the street. He hurries to speak to the driver and whips around to stare at the bank. She bites her lip and waits to see how he handles this. Will he be angry with her?

  The clerk drops the boxes with the tapes down on the table and smiles. “Let me know when you're done.” London works her way through the tapes and writes down the information she needs.

  Declan speaks to the driver and has him pull the carriage over to the bank while he walks across the street. “This ought to be good,” he grumbles.

  London jumps when the bell rings over the door. She doesn't turn to greet him when he spots her working, but instead, she continues writing. “Almost finished,” she says softly when he steps beside her, and she keeps writing. Looking up with a triumphant grin, “Done.”

  Declan has to stifle a grin at the excitement on her face.

  “What time do you print the tapes daily?” she hurries to ask the young clerk who has returned to claim the box.

  “Usually early morning, but if you want to get copies, I'd suggest coming after lunch. We are usually crowded first thing in the morning. Everyone wants to see the tapes.”

  “I’m sure, thank you,” she turns to look at Declan. “We need to talk!”

  “Over dinner,” he offers his arm, and she accepts holding her prized piece of paper.

  Trembling with barely concealed excitement, she climbs into the carriage and waits for him to sit next to her. She turns to look at him. “Declan,” she starts to say.

  “I asked you to wait, London. It's not safe to wander around on your own,” he snaps, cutting her sentence off.

  “I'm sorry if I scared you, Declan, but it was only across the street and,” he interrupts her again.

  “No buts, London, you’re a beautiful woman, alone in a strange city, you must be more cautious.”

  “Beautiful?” she laughs his compliment away, and he leans forward, eyes flashing.

  “Very,” he states.

  London’s mouth falls open in shock. “I didn’t think about it,” she frowns and glances down at the paper in her hand. “I’ve been invisible for so long it didn’t seem necessary.”

  “It is very necessary. You’re no longer invisible. I don’t want to lose you when I just found you,” Declan announces.

  Touched beyond words, London stares at him in surprise and leans forward, kissing him softly, surprising them both. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” he asks.

  “For caring,” she sniffs.

  Declan doesn't know what to say, he draws her into his arms across his lap and kisses her senseless. This kiss is different, more intense, marking her heart pound and burning the feel of him into her soul.

  They break apart, and he smiles down at her, “I win.”

  London laughs and pulls him back down, “You gave me leave to kiss you whenever I want. I think I'm the winner,” her smiles fades as he reclaims her mouth. Hot, moist, heat, and beating hearts.

  When he lifts his head this time, he decides to be sensible and sits her away from him. London blushes and straightens her dress as he moves to the seat across from her.

  “Tell me what was so important, London?” he asks.

  “Oh, I forgot!” Blushing, she glances around and finds the crumpled paper. “I have to stop touching you, it makes my mind splinter.”

  Declan laughs, “That’s the best compliment.”

  London covers her face trying to regain her composure. “Please stop,” she asks quietly.

  “I'm sorry, tell me,” he pulls her hands down, and she nods.

  “Declan, I think we can sell your shares, the ones I bought, and get a much higher price.”

  “I'm willing to listen, but first, we need to feed you.” The carriage stops in front of the Copper House Tavern, and London frowns.

  “Did you hear me?” she asks. London is vibrating with excitement and frustrated that he could worry about food at a time like this. He lifts her down and smiles at her.

  “Declan, I don’t think you understand what I’m saying,” she whispers as he guides her into the restaurant.

  “Do you like seafood?”

  “What? Yes I like seafood…” she replies and is tempted to stomp her foot.

  His dark eyes trail over her face, and he has to stifle a laugh at the flabbergasted look.

  “Here’s your table,” the waiter says, and London looks around for the first time. A corner table overlooking the waterway, decorated with candles and a bottle of wine with two glasses. The romance of the moment is not lost on her.

  “This restaurant was built in 1776 and has remained in the original family,” Declan explains as he pulls out her chair and waits for her to sit.

  “You’ve been here before?” she asks.

  “Many times with my Grandfather,” he smiles and reaches for the wine bottle to pour her a glass. Unexpected emotion flickers in her eyes, and he hesitates. “Is something wrong?”

  London leans forward, “I don’t drink alcohol.”

  He instantly turns and calls the waiter back, “Take the wine away and bring us juice or tea?” he glances at London, waiting for her answer.

  “Hot tea would be lovely,” she murmurs.

  “Absolutely,” the waiter replies and moves away while London stares at him once more.

  “What?”

  “Just like that. You aren’t angry or demanding answers?”

  “I don't need to know why London. I trust you.”

  London glances out over the water and sniffs back tears. Declan reaches out and covers her hand with his gently, drawing her eyes to his. It occurs to him that she's been sorely treated during her life. Every protective instinct roars to the surface, and he finds himself determined to shower her with affection. At that moment, he knows what he needs to do to secure her heart. He's going to court her!

  His grin draws her attention, “That look makes me nervous, Declan, what are you up to?”

  “Nothing,” he withdraws his hand. “What kind of seafood is your favorite London?”

  “I’ll admit I haven’t had much of it, but what I’ve tasted was good.”

  “If you trust me, I’d like to order for you, the food here is spectacular.”

  “Of course,” she smiles and waits for him to order.

  “We'll start with the clam chowder, salad, and we'd like to share a seafood sampler, including the pan-seared sea trout,” Declan tells the waiter.

  “Excellent Lord Sheridan, we'll have that out soon,” the waiter places fresh rolls on the table and hurries off.

  London laughs softly, “Now, can we talk business?”

  “If we must,” Declan sighs as she pulls out the crumpled paper. She watches him plate a roll and offer it to her before serving himself, and she sighs. He puts her needs before his at all times and its disconcerting.

  “Thank you.” They eat quietly while she gathers her thoughts and wonders if she has the right to advise him on his family business and whether or not he will listen.

  “I can see your beautiful mind working, London, share with the class,” he teases.

  The waiter returns with two mugs of clam chowder. The smell is tantalizing, and London watches as he tastes the first spoonful. His moan of delight causes her to blush and glance at her own cup. London sips, and the flavor explodes on her tongue.

  “You may order for me from now on,” she says with a smile. Declan's soft laughter causes her stomach to erupt with butterflies.

  “It would be my honor, London,” he answers with a bow of his head.

  “Are you real, Lord Sheridan?” she asks with a serious look on her face.

  “As real as you, Lady Sheridan,” he grins and picks up his cup to finish his soup.

>   “Declan, may I ask why you took Sheridan Furniture public?”

  “I imagine the same reason most companies do. To expand the business and raise money. I want to take Sheridan Furniture into the future. I need money to purchase the new steam-powered machinery. With it, I can make more than one piece at a time. I'd eventually like to have a factory, allowing me to work faster, though not short the quality.”

  “I’d like to offer you some financial advice, though I’m nervous about doing so?” she glances at him and pushes her half-eaten cup of soup away.

  “I can imagine so,” he snorts and picks up a second roll.

  “I understand, forgive my assumption,” disappointment colors her voice, and she puts the paper away in her pocket.

  “You misunderstand me, London. What I meant was that I can understand your hesitation because it is unusual for a woman to have the financial brilliance you seem to possess.”

  London looks into his eyes full of warmth and colored with pride in her, and her heart falls. In that one second, she can see the possibility of a future with this man, and it shakes her to the core.

  “Very well, Declan, if I've learned anything in the past ten years of studying the market, it is that the market always recovers.” She leans forward with excitement, coloring her face. “Most investors like yours don't want to be hit again after they cut their losses.”

  “I imagine it's hard to think straight after losing thousands of dollars,” he responds.

  “Exactly, but that's just it. Your investors jumped too soon. Judging from today’s ticker tapes, our stocks are rebounding! Declan, I'd advise you to sell it again and soon.”

  “I'm not sure I want to any longer,” he says, watching her closely.

  “Why not?”

  “If they jumped so easy, what’s to say that they won’t again?”

  “I understand, but you must leave the emotions behind and keep a clear head. Your goals for your company haven't changed, and if anything, the scandal helped reinvigorate interest in Sheridan Furniture. I'd advise you to sell it while it's in demand. Declan, it's at a sixty percent increase!”

  “What would be the best outcome for this situation?” he asks.

  “Well, of course, a hundred percent or higher, but that is almost unheard of,” she laughs and shakes her head.