Not Quite a Duchess: A Sweet Victorian Gothic Historical Romance (The Boston Heiresses Book 1)

by Ava Rose

  Something had changed in him. The Pen she knew would have immediately become defensive and shut her out at the mention of a cane. And yet, here he was, explaining things to her.

  “It was how I beat the odds. Exercise.” He smiled then and she felt her eyes widen.

  Where had this cooperative man come from? This was not Prince Penforth Armstrong-Leeds. If he was, then perhaps she’d not been the only one who hit her head.

  The Armstrong-Leeds carriage rolled to a halt and when she peeped out she saw they were in front of a chapel. At first glance, one would think the chapel ordinary. The stone walls and stained glass windows gave it a look like any other of its kind, but if this was where Libby had been delivered, then perhaps the building hid darker-than-usual secrets.

  The rain had lessened to a drizzle, but the churning clouds above were still brewing a storm.

  "You brought them to a chapel?" Anna asked Pelham once she and Pen had alighted.

  "Told you they were getting married, my lady."

  She shouldn't be surprised, and yet she was. Foreboding filled her.

  "I know of this place," Pen said, his eyes dark and unreadable. "They call it the Blue Chapel of Lexington."

  From his stern tone, Anna suspected the blue didn't stand for color.

  "It is known amongst the less salubrious for collecting bribes and arranging hasty weddings," he confirmed, when she raised an enquiring brow.

  Suddenly, Anna didn't want to go inside for fear of what they might find. The knowledge that this place hid behind a visor of holiness to cheat people further made her uncomfortable.

  Pelham's happy murmurs of appreciation drew her attention off the chapel for a moment. Pen had paid him and from the way Pelham was grovelling, it must have been a generous amount. The carriage driver turned to Anna.

  "Thank you, my lady. I wish you luck in finding your friend."

  She inclined her head graciously. Whatever had happened to Libby was not the driver’s fault.

  Pen took her hand and started toward the chapel entrance. Her initial trepidation returned full force and she had to fight off a fit of the shakes.

  The interior was quiet and dark. The sound of their boots on the stone floor echoed in the space as they walked down the aisle hand in hand.

  As if the heavens were trying to tell them something, the rain chose that moment to pour down with a vengeance, loudly pelting the roof and windows. Lightning illuminated the nave and Anna's grip on Pen's hand tightened involuntarily.

  A man wearing a black robe walked up to them, greeting them with a wide smile and a mercenary glint in his eyes.

  "Welcome," he said, opening his arms as though he were about to embrace them. "I am Luke Anders, the minister here. How may I help you?"

  "We are looking for a couple who may have married here in the past couple of days," Pen responded without returning the minister's greeting.

  That made Mr. Anders's face fall. "Oh, I thought you were looking to be married yourselves."

  "Why? Because that is all that ever goes on in this place?" Anna asked, annoyed.

  "Of course not, my lady," he defended quickly. "May I ask who you are looking for?"

  They provided Libby's portrait and the minister's eyes instantly flashed with recognition. "Ah yes,” he nodded. “They were here only yesterday."

  "Were they wed?" Anna quickly asked.

  "Yes, they were indeed. And a lovely service it was, too."

  Anna’s heart skipped a beat. They were too late!

  "Show us the register,” Pen demanded. “We need proof."

  Mr. Anders hesitated, causing Pen to repeat the question with more force.

  "Are you with the police?" the minister asked. By now his earlier composure had cracked. He kept swallowing repeatedly.

  Anna was tempted to answer yes but decided against it. There was no telling what this man might do. If he ran away; denied them further information...

  "Yes,” said Pen. “We are. I am Inspector Armstrong and this is my wife."

  Anna's stomach tumbled into chaos. Had Pen gone mad, announcing her as his wife and making himself an inspector?

  Mr. Anders’s jaw dropped, and then snapped shut. "T-t-this way," he stammered, and led them to the south transept where a massive book lay open on a stand. "That is the register."

  The volume was open to the newest entries and Anna leaned over to look. There, just above the latest entry, was Libby's marriage record.

  Anna felt Pen lean in close behind her, and heard his sharp intake of breath. Libby's signature was clear. Not at all like someone under coercion, or the influence of drink.

  "She's married," Pen whispered.

  "She couldn't have married willingly. Pelham said she was intoxicated."

  "That does not look like the signature of a drunk person." His voice was low and grave. Anna was afraid to look up and meet his eyes.

  He was right. Libby's signature was very neat and elegant. It looked just like her usual cursive script.

  "You said this place was corrupt. She could have been held at gunpoint."

  Pen did not respond. He pointed at one of the witness names—William Singer.

  The man who had hired someone to watch over her friend.

  Anna turned sharply. "Mr. Anders..."

  The minister was nowhere in sight. They rushed back to the nave. There was no sign of him.

  Penforth unapologetically released a chain of expletives and Anna wanted to join him. Their next clue had just slipped through their fingers.

  "He knows where she is," Pen said. His expression had moved past anger and was now in the realm of foreboding. “Otherwise, why run?” His body was rigid and his hands were balled into fists at his sides. "Let's go."

  "Where are we going?"

  "There is an inn across the road. We'll retire there and come up with a proper plan. The minister's reaction tells me we’re close." His expression softened then. "And you need to dry your clothes and eat."

  “So do you.” Anna took a deep breath. “Pen, this is…” She couldn’t finish. Her throat felt all choked up. Not only was Libby’s reputation at risk, but Anna was more worried than ever for her friend’s personal safety.

  Pen nodded, grim-faced. “I know, Anna. We’ll find her. I promise.”

  ***

  Presenting Anna as his wife was much simpler than presenting her as anything else. It gave him the opportunity to keep her close and protect her while respecting her reputation. They stepped across the road to the Five Castles Inn. The innkeeper, a pompous red-haired man, instantly took interest in their new guests. Their dishevelment had obviously done nothing to hide their social status and the innkeeper did not hide his desire to gain from this encounter.

  The two rooms Pen requested were right beside each other, with an adjoining door as befitted a married couple. He asked Anna’s permission first before accepting such a booking, though admittedly, she did not seem to be thinking very clearly at the moment. He did not want her by herself in an establishment such as this. Given her quick acquiescence with his plan, it was obvious she did not want to be too far from him, either.

  She asked for a maid to be sent up to help dry her clothes.

  “Will you be ready for dinner in an hour?” Pen asked when they reached her door.

  “If my dress can be dried in time, yes.”

  “Hmm. I’ll see you soon, then, Anna. Freshen up, and then we will eat and decide our next steps. We’re close. I feel it in my bones.”

  He found it curious that he was less bothered now by working with her, than he had been even a day or so earlier. Anna was clearly very intelligent and resourceful, and his concern for his sister overrode his natural instinct to keep Anna out of this for her own protection.

  Oh, Libby, he thought, as his mind returned to his sister’s signature on that book. What have you gotten yourself into? And how are we going to extricate you from this?

  ***

  After closing the door behind her, Anna sta
red around the bed chamber and sighed. Not out of any displeasure at the quality of the chamber—it was tolerable—but at the day she’d had. It was the most vexation she’d been through in one day, and the toll was great indeed.

  Her left hand went up to massage her right shoulder where the joint was stiff and aching. She’d kept the full extent of her injuries from Pen, knowing what his reaction would have been. Apart from her head and right shoulder, she’d also hit her hip when the carriage had rolled. She was lost for some minutes in her musings, when a knock sounded at her door. It was accompanied by a shrill voice. “Housekeeping!”

  “Come in!” Anna called, not feeling like answering the door herself.

  A small blonde-haired girl entered and curtsied, as well as she could with a large box in her arms. “I was sent up to help you, ma’am.”

  “Ah, good. And what is that you’re holding?”

  “A dress for you, my lady.”

  “Wherever did you get a dress so quickly?”

  She curtsied again. “Your husband, ma’am. There is a ladies clothing boutique near the inn, and Mr. Armstrong chose this for you himself.”

  He went out again? In the storm? To a ladies clothing establishment? “Thank you,” she said, feeling a little breathless.

  She took the box and placed it on the bed to open it. The midnight blue taffeta dress she pulled out was surprisingly well-made for a non-tailored garment, with drapings of silk and trimmings of lace. She wondered if it had been the most expensive dress in the shop. While it was not close in quality to what Anna was used to, it was likely the best they had and Pen had acquired it for her. His thoughtfulness moved her.

  She stood in front of the fire and sighed again. She had behaved very badly toward him earlier and endangered herself in the process. But her actions had not been without reason. His behavior had not been without fault. Plus, facing rejection from the man one had fallen in love with often led to irrational behavior.

  As much as it pained her, she was making peace with her situation in regards Pen—or at least she was trying to. She could not force him to feel things he did not want to feel. Anna had not anticipated falling in love with the man. The extraordinary effect he had on her could not be ignored, but the fact had remained that he was not part of her plans for the future.

  It was almost funny. Here she was pining for a man she could never have while her best friend was married to one who had potentially abducted her. Though she had to consider the other possibility, too. Libby could love Sir Anthony. He had presented himself well enough to create that option. If that were the case, it was just very unfortunate that Libby had never told Anna about him.

  These thoughts were like a blade to her heart, and they thrust deep and twisted.

  She and Libby shared everything. It was why their friendship was so strong.

  The maid cleared her throat and brought Anna out of her reverie.

  “Oh, yes. Help me out of this dress, please.” She walked to the mirror in the corner of the room. Her dress had a row of tiny velvet-covered buttons, at least two dozen.

  “What is your name?” Anna asked as the girl began unfastening the buttons. She wanted to distract herself with conversation, however small.

  “I am Marguerite, ma’am,” the girl replied timidly. She reminded Anna a little of Eva.

  Eva had been very shy when she’d started working for Anna’s family, but had soon broken free of that timidity with Anna’s encouragement. Now she brought her the latest gossip…including the bit that had exposed Van Daal.

  Anna made a mental note to reward Eva when she returned home.

  “Are you French?” she asked the girl. Keeping her mind on the present was proving to be quite the endeavor.

  “Yes. My maman, bless her soul, moved here with me fourteen years ago.” Marguerite was visibly more comfortable now.

  Anna gave her a small smile. “I am originally from England, but I have lived in Boston almost all my life.”

  “Oh, I hear Boston is a charming city.” The girl’s emerald green eyes sparkled.

  Charming was not the word Anna would use for Boston. Fecund was more appropriate. Boston had a way of pulling one into it’s depths. It brought together people from different parts of the world.

  Likely, this young girl would not understand. "It is charming," was all she said, in the end.

  "I dream of going there someday."

  Dreams... Anna wondered if she would ever attain any of her dreams. They seemed very far away right now.

  When all the buttons were undone and she was freed from the wet clothing, Marguerite bent and collected Anna’s muddied boots and then laid the dress over her arm.

  "I will have these dried for you, ma’am. Will you be needing anything else at this time?"

  "That is all for now, Marguerite."

  The girl curtsied again and left, and Anna was once again alone with her thoughts. She raised her eyes to her reflection, unsure what to make of the thin woman in her undergarments looking back. She did not recognize the defeat in those blue eyes, the tear tracks staining her cheeks, or the sadness pulling down the corners of her mouth. This was not her.

  It couldn't be!

  No, she was Lady Anna Trevallyn, a strong fearless woman with the vivacity of ancient goddesses. When she fell, she rose back up and continued with her head held high and her chin proud. Always. She was a duchess in her own right!

  And she was not a sniveler. Her hands went up to wipe the tear marks from her face, then behind her head to remove the pins from her hair.

  She used the water in the basin to splash her face and clean herself, and then rolled her hair back into that convenient bun at her nape. The fastenings of her new dress were at the front, so she did not require any help re-dressing. She was back in her chair beside the fire warming herself when Marguerite returned with her boots, cleaned and polished. As she was putting them on, another knock sounded and she asked Marguerite to answer the door.

  "It is your husband, ma'am," the girl said, her face vermilion.

  Anna’s heart thumped. It took her a moment to remember that she was supposed to be Penforth's wife.

  "He is ready to take you down to dinner."

  "I will join him shortly."

  Marguerite informed him, curtsied respectfully, and closed the door before covering her flushed cheeks with her hands. Pen had that effect on women. Apparently they all turned pink and simple-minded in his presence.

  "That will be all, Marguerite."

  With that, Anna opened the door and stepped out to meet her supposed “husband”.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It was as if his mind had been indoctrinated for years to react this way whenever he saw her. His breathing would slow and his eyes would roam over her figure as he allowed himself to appreciate her radiance, before he gained control of himself and shut everything down once again. Tonight was different, however. He was like a young man, without a grip on his feelings.

  "Good evening, Pen," she greeted as she stepped into the hallway.

  The blue dress he'd chosen for her looked lovely. It was not the dress a woman of her rank should wear, but she imbued it with elegance and grace.

  He put forth all effort to show only equanimity, but he was not sure he succeeded. It was not until he had picked up her hand and raised it to his lips that he realized he had been staring at her like a fool.

  "Good evening, Anna," he murmured after softly kissing her knuckles.

  She allowed him to lead her downstairs to the private dining room he’d reserved. He disliked public places, but more than that, the privacy would enable them to talk freely. They skirted the public dining area but despite that, all heads turned to look at them as they passed through. He suspected their gazes were more on Anna and he automatically pulled her close in a possessive manner.

  He thought maybe she released a snort, but at least she didn’t pull away. Once in the private room, he led her to the table set for their dinner and pulled o
ut a chair. She deserved a proper meal since she likely had not had one for a while. The inn did not have the modern gas lighting such as that in his own or Anna’s residences, but the candles in their sconces created a cozy and intimate atmosphere.

  While Pen took his seat, Anna uncovered the dishes and let out a small sound of pleasure. Creamy vegetable soup, roast beef with potatoes, and an apple pie, were laid out on the table and obviously met with her approval.

  She smiled at the sight of the food and he could not help but smile too.

  "I am starving," she declared, picking up her spoon and dipping it into the soup.

  So was he. Wordlessly, they began to eat.

  Only after they’d finished the first course and started on their second, did either of them speak again. "What are we going to do now?" Anna asked.

  "We need to interrogate as many other people in the area as we can,” he replied.

  “Interrogate?”

  “Well, question them. Not the innkeeper, though. The man seems dubious. I suggest we keep him in the dark as much as possible. I also think we need to go back to that chapel. I want to poke around some more."

  She nodded, chewing thoughtfully. “There was something not right about that chapel,” she agreed. “It felt…wrong.”

  Her comment reminded him of a lapse. "How do you feel?" He ought to have asked that as soon as he saw her.

  "I feel much better, thank you. The headache is almost gone." She avoided his gaze as she answered.

  "You're hurt more than you're letting on, aren't you?"

  She took her time, raising another morsel to her mouth, and he waited patiently. When she swallowed, she immediately filled her mouth again with more food. The clever minx thought she could escape his question.

  "Anna."

  She put down her cutlery, took a small sip of wine, and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before meeting his gaze.

  "I am not going home before we find Libby," she said. "It doesn't matter how hurt I am—"

  "It does to me," he cut her off.