“I tell you about my step-father selling me into marriage, and you think that allows you to order me to be your wife. That obviously, a weak, servile woman like me can be told who and when she will marry.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Thomas said as he stepped back. Obviously realizing that he had upset her.
“I told you I couldn’t be your wife,” Gwen said, noticing that she didn’t say anything about not being his mistress.
“That’s not what I meant,” Thomas said his face finally registering some concern and confusion. “You know how I feel about you …”
“No Thomas I don’t. You’ve never said. All you’ve done is order me about like I’m the hired help.”
“Well, to be honest,” he said with a small chuckle.
“Oh! You beast. Get out. Now,” she said stomping her foot for emphasis. “Go on, get out,” she repeated as she pushed at his chest. She needed him to go before she said or did something she would regret.
“Gwen, listen, I uh … “
He looked like a lost little boy with no idea of what he had done wrong. She was so mad she could scratch someone’s eyes out. How dare he? To ruin such a sweet, gentle moment by assuming she would marry him just because he told her too.
“What? No apology. You didn’t seem to have a hard time apologizing before. Now you can’t?”
“I don’t have any idea what I did wrong,” he answered, his voice also rising in anger.
This was getting out of hand. If it continued, the entire household would be up to investigate what was happening. A flash of Aunt Celeste and Elizabeth barreled into her room thinking she was in trouble only to find The Duke still there and her dressed in her night clothes. No. She must stop this now.
“Thomas, please leave,” She said with a calming voice.
“And if I don’t,” he demanded, obviously still in fighting mode. Didn’t the man know when to shut up?
Gwen sighed heavily. “If you don’t leave then I will have too. It won’t be the first time I’ve run from an overbearing man intent on using his power to force me to do something I didn’t want too.”
Her heart jumped as she realized she’d gone too far. The stricken look on his face shocked her. It was as if she had shot him in the heart. A mortal blow.
He lowered his head for a moment as if gathering himself. Please, Thomas she whispered to herself. Please understand what I need, what I want. But the words didn’t come out. Instead, she stood there waiting.
He finally raised his eyes to look at her again; he squared his shoulders.
“Very well Miss Harding,” he said as he snatched his walking cane from where it leaned against a chair. “But I assure you, this is not over.”
Her heart lurched. What had she done? All she wanted was to spend the rest of her life in this man’s arms, but her temper had ruined everything. She should have just accepted the inevitable, and they’d be making sweet passionate love right now. Instead, she was watching his back as he stormed from her room.
What had she done?
.o0o.
Thomas paced back and forth in his study, wearing a path in the carpet, his mind lost in thought as he planned, examined options, and reviewed everything that had happened. He might have made a mistake but for the life of him couldn’t see it. He loved her, and he was sure she loved him. He could offer her protection, wealth, status. He could raise her to heights no merchant’s daughter could ever hope for.
He had placed her with his aunt, introduced her to society. Ensured every detail was handled. But still, something was wrong.
His thoughts were interrupted by a downstairs maid stepping into the room.
The girl’s eyes grew as big as saucers when she saw the Duke standing in the middle of the room.
“Um, I’m sorry Your Grace,” she blurted as she quickly curtsied. “I’m to start the fire. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
Thomas stopped pacing and glanced at the girl. She looked like she was afraid he was going to shot her at dawn. Did he really scare people that much? Why? He’d never even spoken to this poor girl. Why did she think he would be upset? She was only doing her job.
A memory of his grandfather flashed into his mind. The way the servants would worry and scurry whenever he would start to rumble and yell. Everyone in the household quaked at the thought of upsetting him. Was that how his servants looked at him?
He smiled gently and nodded towards the fire. “Please continue, I assure you that you didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Yes Your grace,” she said with another quick curtsy before almost running to the fireplace to start removing yesterday’s ashes and laying the morning’s material.
Thomas watched her for a moment as a plan began to form in his mind. Yes, it might work.
Once the young maid finished, she curtsied again and began to leave the room. Obviously eager to escape the big bad, terrible man. Shaking his head, he smiles at her.
“Please ask Woods to come see me.”
“Yes, of course, Your Grace,” she said.
He could see the fear flash through her eyes wondering if he wanted to see the butler to tell him to let her go. The fear was real. The thought of being on the street with no job, no references. It could be a death sentence.
Was this what Gwen felt? She had worried every day about being discovered. His heart went out to her. Even now. He might be angry at her, but it didn’t stop the admiration and love he felt for her. He would make it right. Whatever it took he would make it right.
Returning to his desk, he began drafting the necessary correspondence. When Woods arrived a few minutes later, he had the first two letters complete.
“Please have these sent right away. And ask the Sergeant Major to step in when he gets a chance.”
“Of course,” the butler said as he retrieved the two letters. “But I believe the Sergeant Major is still asleep. He returned only an hour ago sir. It is rather early Your Grace.”
The Duke glanced out the window, surprised to see it was still dark with only a light gray beginning to touch the edges of the night.
“Of course,” he said with a nod. “Please have someone wake him, this can’t wait.”
“Yes Your Grace,” the butler said as he backed out of the room.
Within ten minutes, the Sergeant Major stepped into the room without knocking. “You wanted to see me, Your Grace,” he said as he finished buttoning his coat.
“Yes Sergeant Major, Sorry to wake you so early, but I need your help.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” the Sergeant Major said with a furrowed brow. “I should have the necessary information on the Earl within a few hours.”
“Good. Whom do we know on the docks?” The Duke asked.
“We! Don’t know anyone. I know several people.”
The Duke laughed. Of course. “All right, who do you know that can be trusted? I need information.”
“Jack Carp, Your Grace. He was a private in the second platoon, A company.”
Now it was Thomas’s turn to narrow his brow as he tried to remember.
“He was wounded at Badajoz,” The Sergeant Major said.
“Yes, now I remember,” the Duke said. “This is what I need you to tell him ….”
The Sergeant Major listened carefully to each instruction; he didn’t write anything down, but Thomas knew that every detail would be completed quickly.
Only a few minutes after the Sergeant Major left there was a quick knock at the parlor door, and Woods opened it to announce Viscount Somerset.
“You sent for me sir?” the Young lord said.
“Yes, Somerset thank you for coming so quickly. Woods, hold on, please add these to the post.” The Duke said as he handed the butler several more letters.
Lord Somerset raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. He had learned a long time ago to let the Major work through his process.
“Brandy?” The Duke asked as he got up from behind his desk.
“Yes, yes, of course,” the Duke said as he returned to his papers. “Woods,” he yelled.
The butler stepped back into the room. “Yes Sir,”
“We will have our breakfast in here, something quick and hardy.
“Of course, Your Grace,” the butler said now it was his turn for his brow to rise in confusion. Obviously the Duke was not all there.
“So Your Grace,” the young viscount said. “What is so important that I had to leave the arms of my beautiful wife and has you still dressed in last night’s evening clothes.”
The Duke looked down at himself, obviously surprised to see he still wore what he had been wearing at last night’s dance.
“We have things to do Somerset,” he said. “Many things.”
Chapter Twenty Three
Gwen stared into the fireplace. It seemed that had been all she could do for the last three days. Three long days of second guessing. Full of doubts and fear.
“Are you all right my dear,” Aunt Celeste said, looking at her as if she were a lost kitten in the snow. Gwen knew what she saw, ugly black smudges under her eyes. A glassy faraway look. She really should pull herself together. If the Duke was going to have his aunt dismiss her, he would have done it by now.
“Yes Aunt Celeste, everything is fine.”
“Are you sure dear? You look tired. It’s not that silly party I hope. I assure you. No one is talking about it. Everyone thought it rather heroic of Bathurst to catch you and carry you from the room. Believe me, they are more interested in Lady Lambert being discovered in the arms of her footman. I can assure you. Your fainting spell isn’t on anyone’s lips.
Gwen smiled at the older woman, trying to reassure her, silently thanking her for her concern.
“No, I am just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Oh, I am sorry. You seemed to be all better after the party when we left you with Bathurst. Did anything happen? Did my nephew do something he shouldn’t have? I promise you I will …”
“No! No, nothing like that. I’m just not well.”
“Well, you let me know if there is anything I can do. With Bathurst’s wealth, we will want for nothing I can assure you. Only the best of everything. At least until he marries and his wife puts a strangle hold on his finances.”
Gwen blanched. Where did that come from?
“I am sure that when the Duke marries he will retain full control. Believe me, I cannot see anyone telling him what to do. More like the other way around if you ask me.”
Aunt Celeste laughed. “Yes, maybe you are right. Though we should be careful, the wrong woman could ruin the happy family we are creating here don’t you think? I will tell you something in confidence. But you must never tell him.”
“Of course my lady,”
“I like Bathurst, he’s all man and is turning out to be a good Duke. He takes it seriously. I don’t think we would have been so lucky with one of his cousins.”
Gwen was silent as she slowly pulled the thread to her needlepoint. It wouldn’t do for her to comment on the performance of the Duke.
“And,” Lady Celeste continued. “You’ve got to admit that he does cut a dashing figure. Something about a man with power who knows how to use it.”
“He most definitely knows how to tell people what to do,” Gwen said before she could stop herself.
“Yes, well, that is as expected. It can become a habit. We forget how to ask for what we want. Instead, we just demand what we need and expect everyone to provide it. That doesn’t mean we’re not appreciative, just that we don’t always see things correctly.”
Gwen tried to bite her lip to stop herself from speaking but couldn’t do it. The words refused to stay hidden. “Some people need to learn how to ask instead of order. They might get what they want that way.”
Aunt Celeste didn’t respond. Instead she lifted her paper as if to hide a smile.
.o0o.
The strong smells of London assaulted the Duke of Bathurst as he rode in his open carriage through the streets. Horses, raw sewage, and the Thames at low tide. God how he hated this piss pot of a city.
It smelled worse than a Portuguese battlefield on a hot day. He shuddered to think what it would be like in full summer. Hopefully by then he would be deep in Brookshire.
Thomas tugged his tall hat tight. Six days, six long, miserable days since he had seen her. It had taken that long to put his plans in place. His stomach tightened. This had to work.
The London docks teemed with activity. Stevedores unloading giant bales of cotton from Egypt. Men rolling casks of Whiskey down from Scotland. Still others scurryied up and down gangplanks with heavy reams of silk from China.
The gateway to the empire. All of it was open to him, and he was stuck minding a conglomeration of farms and estates. A brief thought of what might have been flashed through his mind.
As the carriage pulled to a stop outside a large wooden warehouse, the Sergeant Major opened the carriage door. The Duke stepped down, nodding at the three other men with the Sergeant Major. His solicitor Mr. James Hopper looked out of place. As if afraid the dirt and grime would mar his perfect attire. The two large, burly men with him looked as if they were born to the place. They made the Sergeant Major look like a street urchin.
“At the top of the stairs,” The Sergeant Major said, glancing to the second floor of the warehouse.
The Duke took a deep breath. “Gentlemen, shall we.”
He led the way up the stairs, leaning on his walking stick with each step. He had been using it more than normal he realized. Too much pacing and not enough sleep.
At the top of the stairs, he opened a wooden door with “Harding and Grant” painted in fading yellow. The interior office was Spartan with a small desk and a single candle. Not a good sign Mr. Grant. The Duke thought as he stepped inside.
The young man behind the desk jumped to his feet, almost knocking his chair over.
“May I help you?” he said with a bit of a stammer quickly closing the brown ledger he had been working on. He glanced over the Duke’s shoulder as the other men entered. His gaze coming to rest on the two large men who barely fit through the front door. Swallowing hard, he glanced down at the ledge book.
“That is all right; we will announce ourselves,” The Duke said as he marched across the room to the inner office door.
The Sergeant Major intercepted the young man before he could stop them. Staring down at him, he silently shook his head.
“You don’t want to get involved my boy,” he said.
The Duke opened the inner door and stepped into John Grant’s office. It was as bare as his outside office. An older, heavyset man sitting behind a large desk looked up. His forehead creased in confusion for a moment then quickly changed over to fear when he saw the other men enter.
“Yes?” The older man said.
“Mr. John Grant?” The Duke asked as he peered down at the man who had hurt Gwen. His heart raced, and his fist ached to punch that silly smile from his face.
“Um … Yes,” The man answered, as if afraid to give even that much information.
“I am the Duke of Bathurst.”
The man’s face relaxed as he processed the information. It was obvious that he had run down the list of people to be worried about and the Duke wasn’t one of them. He sat back in his chair.
“How may I help you?” He asked.
The Duke smiled. A slow, deadly smile. The kind Tiger’s get before they pounce. This was the man who had tried to sell Gwen. Had made her life a living hell. Just rewards were due.
“This is Mr. James Hopper my solicitor,” The Duke said as confusion returned to the man’s face.
“And these two men,” the Duke said gesturing to the two large, burly fellows. “Are here to escort you to Newgate Prison.”
All color drained from John Grant’s face as he froze in place. His eyes grew wide as he
stared back at the Duke then shifted to the other men.
“But … I … I don’t understand. Why?”
“Debts Mr. Grant. You owe me Nine thousand six hundred and twenty-two pounds. Unless you are able to pay them today, then … Are you able to pay them? Do you have access to funds that I am not aware of?”
“But … We … I never borrowed money from you. I don’t owe you anything.”
“Ah. It was a simple matter. I have purchased your debts. I was able to get quite a few of them for pence on the pound. It seems people do not believe you will repay them.”
The man stood up. His legs wobbly, barely able to hold him upright. His white face quickly turned to a deep red as he stammered, searching for words that could make this all disappear. A small speck of spittle had caught in the corner of the man’s mouth.
The Duke briefly considered the possibility the man would die right here and now. No bother, either way he would get what he wanted.
“Yes, well. As I said. These men will escort you to Newgate Prison where you will reside until the debts are paid. Of course, you do realize that they charge you room and board at the prison, and those charges will be added. I can assure you, they will not let you out until they and I are paid in full. Have you ever visited Newgate Mr. Grant?” the Duke asked. “It is not a nice place, between the rats and the thieves. The foul food, it can be quite unpleasant.”
Now true fear spread across the man’s face as the reality of the situation sank in. He glanced towards the front door, but the wall of muscle between him and escape looked to be impenetrable.
“I don’t understand?” he muttered to himself then looking up at the Duke he said. “I don’t understand why did you buy my debts?”
“That is not important nor germane to the situation. All you have to do is figure out how to pay me.” The Duke said as he leaned on his walking stick. “Or go to prison. I assure you all of the paperwork is complete and proper. These men work for the prison company and wouldn’t be here if it weren't.”
“But … I.” suddenly a light appeared in the scared man’s eyes. He drew himself together, hooking his thumbs into his vest. “Sir, I am a respected businessman. I own four ships, each loaded with a king’s ransom in cargo. I promise you. When they arrive, you will be paid.”
The Reluctant Duke (Love's Pride Book 1) Page 17
