Desperately Inn Love with the Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Patricia Haverton

  “The story of my miserable life,” she began dramatically, tossing him a side-eye. “He does not like to conduct business with women.”

  “Then I shall go with you,” the Duke nodded.

  Melody arched a brow at him, “That is not necessary. I can hold my own.”

  He nodded, “I am well aware. However, I want to observe the difference in his behavior if I am around.”

  “Think that will fill your little notebook?” she teased.

  Zachariah grinned and looked away, “It just might.”

  Melody debated it, unsure how the glazier would feel about nobility in his presence. However, it could not hurt and would certainly speed up her day. “We must get going then. There are not enough hours in the day.”

  “I must agree with you there.”

  The two stepped out into an unusually brisk morning and Melody immediately regretted not taking a redingote instead of her pelisse. The glazier was on the edge of town and would be a bit of a journey. She wondered about the last time the Duke had walked any distance other than in his own garden.

  “How does business usually go with the man?” he asked as they walked along the town that was still waking up.

  “Well, it is already a terrible day if I have to see the likes of Jack Smith,” she huffed. “He is one of the only people in town who have refused to set foot in the inn since my husband went away to war.” She shook off the thoughts, knowing she hadn’t yet answered his question.

  “It is first an interrogation. He asks why I think the likes of a woman is allowed alone in his shop. Accusations that I will claim assault if he denies my sale. Demanding for me to come back when I am an honest and married woman… On it goes from there until I finally pester him enough to do business with me. He then charges me double, if not more, for his services.”

  “Why not go to a glazier in London?”

  “Walking would take all day, not to mention how dangerous it would be. And I don’t exactly have a carriage to take me there,” she sighed. “Requesting one is too expensive. Going there and back, and the time it would take, the frustration of likely running into the same problem…does not seem worth it.”

  “How awful,” he commented. “All that for an errand that would take any man at most an hour.”

  “Precisely.”

  “It will be so interesting to see how he responds to my presence.”

  Melody glanced at his flashy, purple jacket and thought of the grimy Jack. “That it will.”

  “Did you grow up in this town?” he asked.

  “I did.”

  “Does your own family lend a hand with the inn?”

  Melody had years of building up an armor around herself so not to grow emotional at the mention of her family. “I was an only child and my parents passed away of dysentery a couple years before I married. I was only spared because I had been away visiting my aunt in the countryside.”

  “Who took care of you then?”

  “I stayed at the Gentle Rose. I paid my way by washing dishes and scrubbing the floorboards.”

  “That’s how you came to know your husband,” Zachariah breathed.

  “That it is,” she sighed. That time period she had once thought to be the most painful of her life. After suffering the loss of so many people and trying to keep the inn afloat, she looked back romantically to when she was a young adult residing in the inn. It had been a difficult time, but it also gave her some of her fondest memories.

  “Huh,” he muttered, a smile on his face.

  “What is it?”

  “You went from scullery maid to owner in a matter of a decade. Usually takes men a couple generations to make such leaps and bounds.”

  She blinked, her eyes falling back to the road ahead. “I never thought of it that way. I suppose you’re right.”

  “You grow ever more peculiar by the moment.”

  The pair soon reached the door of the glazier. Zachariah noticed her take a deep breath and pick at her appearance before pushing open the door. The shop had a storefront with only a small counter, with an array of glass shapes and colors on display on a far wall. There was the whirring sound coming from the back, likely the glazier starting his equipment for the day.

  “Pardon me,” Melody called back as they approached the counter.

  There was some banging around in the back before a short, balding man came through a swinging door. Zachariah had to prevent himself from making a face.

  This is the man who has the audacity to give Melody such grief?

  “What do you want, Balfour?” the man grumbled, already making it known how displeased he was with her presence.

  Zachariah was offended on her behalf that the man addressed her without her title, but he bit his tongue. He was there as only an observer—so long as he could.

  “A patron broke a pane to my dining room window last night. I am hoping you could repair it today?”

  The man chuckled, amused at the thought of someone damaging her property. Jack then eyed Zachariah, as though noticing his presence for the first time. He cleared his throat and let his gaze fall back to Melody. “I don’t have time today.”

  “Please, Jack. You know how large the inn is. It already takes a lumberyard to warm it. Even with just a single pane missing, it was freezing on the bottom floors last night.”

  “Sounds like a problem for you, not for me. If I don’t have the time, I don’t have the time.”

  “When could you do it?”

  Once more, the smith’s eyes fell to Zachariah. He could tell that Jack was containing himself because of his presence, and it quietly angered the Duke. “Friday evening.”

  “Friday?” Melody scoffed. “It’s Sunday! Now, Jack, I know good and well you cannot have that much business in a town as small as this.”

  “Well, I can do it tomorrow morning, but there is a fee for me moving my schedule about.”

  Zachariah could feel Melody’s stomach drop. “Very well, how much for a repair tomorrow morning?”

  “Forty pounds.”

  Their jaws dropped in unison. “That is absurd!” Melody exclaimed. “It is a small pane, Jack. Surely you can do it for less.”

  “Forty pounds, Balfour.”

  “Is this how you conduct business?” Zachariah snapped. “Are you trying to take every pence this woman has? Where is your decency?”

  “Who are you exactly?” he huffed.

  “I’m the Duke of Sandorne,” Zachariah bit back. He was not a man who often used his title to get what he wanted but, in that moment, he longed to see the measly glazier fear the repercussions of his actions.

  “Your Grace,” the man stammered, nervously wiping his hands on his pants. “I was not aware.”

  “Should I announce myself in every room I go in?” he questioned. “Now, I am having the absolute privilege of staying at the Gentle Rose Inn and I want to see to it that the window is repaired. And at a sensible price.”

  The man visibly shrank and his nose crinkled. “Very well…” As soon as his fear had appeared, a smirk took over his face. “Ten pounds.”

  Admittedly, Zachariah had no perception of how much a repair should cost, but he eased. “Thank you for coming to your senses.”

  He looked down at Melody who gave him an ill look, as though her stomach hurt. It was only then that he realized that the price was still likely inflated. As she brought out her purse, Zachariah stuck out a hand to stop her and fetched his notebook. He wrote out a statement to the glazier and handed it over, “The dukedom of Sandorne will see to it that you receive payment. There could be extra in it for you if you see to it that it is repaired by sundown today.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” the smith smirked and pocketed the note.

  They then took their leave. Before his lungs could fill with the morning air, Melody blurted, “You should not have paid that price! Or at all, for that matter.”

  “It was my error that he was still going to charge you so much. It was only right that I pay
for it.”

  “Well, thank you,” she murmured. “Though I think he only still offered such a high price because he was abusing your status.”

  “Likely so,” he pondered, wondering if nobility always paid more in such situations because the shopkeepers knew they could afford it. In a way, Zachariah understood that as fair. “What is far more horrific was how much he was originally going to charge you.”

  “That’s why I consider it bartering with a bastard,” she sighed. “It would have taken me hours and getting red in the face to talk him down to a price I could pay.”

  “Sounds like we made record time of your visit to the glazier,” he grinned.

  Melody, in a rare instance, returned his smile. She would grin on her own, but rarely had she smiled with him. “That we did.”

  They enjoyed the walk together, their conversation fleeting and light. Zachariah’s mind was still fixated on all the extraordinary conversation they had that morning. He would spend the time apart from the Gentle Rose Inn pouring over his brief notes and exploring his own thoughts about all the wisdom she had offered him.

  As they approached the inn, he noticed his footman standing by his carriage and Caleb lingering by the door with his arms crossed and a grave look on his face. Zachariah’s stomach twisted, his mind reverting back to childhood, awaiting a scolding.

  Chapter 9

  “Where have you been?” Caleb immediately asked as they approached.

  “I escorted Melody to the glazier to see to it she received a fair price for the repair,” Zachariah explained.

  His steward eyed Melody with skepticism before she slipped inside. Caleb huffed, “We are running late. The Duchess will be wondering where you are.”

  The anxiety fled from Zachariah’s being as bemusement took over. He rolled his eyes, “Yes, poor mother. How awful of her to not know the whereabouts of her thirty-two-year-old son for a couple of hours.”

  “You are a brave man to be so nonchalant about this,” Caleb muttered as they began to climb into the carriage. “I took the liberty of packing your bags.”

  “You’re too kind, old chap.”

  Once they settled into the carriage, the interrogation began. “What, pray tell, were you really doing?”

  Zachariah rubbed his eyes, his exhaustion from a restless night and the long walk falling down on him. “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?”

  “Why would you not?”

  Caleb scoffed, beckoning Zachariah to look up at him. He, once more, found himself rolling his eyes. He had a suggestive look on his face. “Yes, you caught us, Caleb. Melody and I decided to go out into the brisk morning to do some heavy petting at the glazier.”

  “It’s not so hard to believe,” Caleb smirked. “You are a bachelor and she is a widow.”

  “Enough of your nonsense. I will not tolerate being interrogated in this manner every time we visit the Gentle Rose,” Zachariah stated firmly.

  There was silence before Caleb commented, “You two did seem chummier than before.”

  “We had tea together this morning and discussed women’s rights. She is by far the most marvelous person I have ever met. Did you know, she started out as a scullery maid at the inn? Now, just a decade later, she’s the owner. Is that not wonderful?”

  “Very impressive,” he nodded. “Though, it did take a marriage and a war for her to get there.”

  It was a joke, but it echoed in the walls of his chest.

  How terrible that it takes so much for a capable woman to have a business of her own.

  “I would be lucky to find a noblewoman of such great independence,” Zachariah sighed.

  “Good luck in that endeavor,” Caleb chuckled.

  The rest of the ride, Zachariah was bored to death by Caleb’s girlish cooing over Betsy. Her resistance to him seemed lost on the man once more. It was adorable, but Zachariah was too tired to revel in it. The carriage eventually rolled to a stop outside of the Livingston estate.

  “Try to do some reading, old chap. Perhaps then you will get your wits about you again,” the Duke called to his friend as he walked toward the door.

  “If to be a wise man is to be without the affections of Miss Betsy Lovell, I wish to be nothing greater than a dunce!”

  Zachariah laughed his way into his home. Caleb, as frustrating as he could be, was always good for a laugh. He soon quieted himself, not wanting to notify his mother of his presence. He needed to get to bed and actually sleep, though he wondered if it would still elude him because of the words of Melody Balfour.

  As he carefully made his way upstairs and down the hall, he began to duck into his room when he noticed his study door was ajar. Brow furrowing, he walked over quietly. When he peered inside, he cursed under his breath.

  “Darling,” the Duchess breathed from the desk. “I was beginning to worry about you.”

  “I am fine, Mother,” he muttered, his gaze falling on the woman sitting on the other side of the desk. She was middle-aged with dark hair and skin so pale it looked bluish. “What is going on here?”

  “Come in, Zachariah,” the Duchess urged, standing from his seat and going to sit next to the woman. “There is much to discuss.”

  “I am very tired, Mother,” he murmured. He knew better than to argue, however. Reluctantly, he sank into his office chair and tossed glances at both women. “What is it?”

  “Zachariah,” the Duchess began softly, a wide smile dominating her painted lips. “This is Agatha Bagwell. She’s a matchmaker.”

  Melody found herself in a bit of a daze that morning, again and again thinking over her time with Zachariah. How humorous his face had been as she spoke to him over tea, looking as giddy as a child on Christmas morning. She still could not believe a man of such status was taking that much of an interest in her and her humble inn.

  In a way, it was making her see the inn in a new light. The light she had when she was a young girl, seeing it again for the first time. She took off her jaded glasses and saw the Gentle Rose Inn for the quaint and charming establishment it was. It was by no means perfect, still in need of a great deal of repairs, but it had character—as cliché as that might have been.

  It inspired her to do some spring cleaning throughout the day. She kept a clean and orderly inn, but there were some tasks they simply could not get to on a regular basis. As she polished the candlesticks in the dining room, Melody’s eyes floated to the window, which was being repaired by the smug-faced Jack Smith.

  “Is that Jack?” Betsy asked as she made her way behind the counter, bringing Melody tea.

  “That it is,” she nodded.

  “I say, I am more than impressed that grimy old man made his way to the inn so promptly. How much did he shake you for?”

  “Ten pounds,” Melody sighed but saved her friend before her jaw dropped. “However, the Duke footed the bill.”

  “Really?” Betsy squeaked and Melody could not tell if she was impressed or shocked, or both.

  Melody nodded, continuing to polish the candlesticks. “He stopped me from paying and said that it was his own fault that I was charged so much, that the dukedom of Sandorne,” she oozed the last words with the poshest of accents to tease the Duke, even in his absence, “would pay for the expense.”

  “What a gentleman,” Betsy breathed, handing Melody a cup of tea and a small plate with a modest serving of bread, pork, and greens.

  “I would certainly hope so, considering his status,” she scoffed.

  “How can you sound so harsh about him? He has been nothing but kind to us,” Betsy questioned her friend.

  Melody knew that Betsy was right and she actually hadn’t meant to be so brash about Zachariah, making herself sound entitled to his help. She meant nothing of the sort. If she were honest with herself, which she was not yet willing to be, she was not quite ready to admit that she was fond of Zachariah. Not because it was anything more than friendship, but because Melody wasn’t known
for being particularly fond of, well, any man.

  “I did not mean it in such a way,” Melody assured Betsy. “I am grateful for his help and his kindness.”

  “I would hope so,” Betsy nodded, sipping her own tea. “When do you think they will be back?”

  “I’m not sure. Knowing the steward’s affections for you, I would guess not long.”

  Betsy rolled her eyes dramatically, “That man cannot take a hint, can he?”