The Reluctant Duchess (13 page)

“Now tell me what’
s wrong,” she said calmly once the front door was closed.

“Your shop, Ma’am.”

Her heart stopped for a moment. “What about my shop, Billy?”

The other servants had congregated in the hallway and listened intently.

“The windows, ma’am, they’re smashed. All of ‘em.”

Annabell
e actually breathed a sigh of relief; she’d had visions of it being robbed or vandalised or worse, burnt down. Frank nodded at her and headed upstairs to his room in the servants’ quarters.

“We didn’t see right away,” Billy
rambled on. “Only, we go into the bakery from the yard at the back, see and we stayed in the kitchen; wasn’t till we opened up the front door for the early customers that we noticed and I ran straight here.”

“It’s all right, Billy, you did well. Thank you for coming to tell me.”

Frank reappeared dressed and with his coat on. “I’ll go hitch the horse to the carriage and wait outside. I’ll come back for whoever isn’t ready.”

“Thank you,
Frank. Now Billy, can you wait a few minutes for me to dress or do you need to get back to your father?”

“I can wait
, Ma’am.”

Annabelle headed upstairs to change, Jones hot on her heels,
whilst Minnie and Ethel headed to their rooms. Annabelle chose a simple dress that laced at the back, pulled on some boots and headed out, calling her thanks to Jones for her help. She pulled on a thick black cloak, caring little for how she looked right now, and headed out into the street, Billy following after her.

“Do you want to get off now?”
Frederick asked as he held the carriage door open.

Annabelle nodded. “
Please. You can come back for the others.”

Annabelle surveyed the damage and was pleased to note that it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. The large front window was divided into smaller panes, eight across and five tall. The window frames were fairly sturdy so it was only the small panes of glass that were broken. It wasn’t just her shop that was affected either, but many of the windows on the floors above had been smashed as well. It must have been someone throwing stones she reasoned, a suspicion that was later confirmed when she found large stones and broken bricks inside among the broken glass.

A small crowd was watching but it was too early for many people and of those who were around, most had places that they needed to be, so they didn’t linger for long.

Billy and Annabelle alighted from the carriage and Frank made to get down from his perch.

“No, go back for the others,” Annabelle instructed. “And bring
as many candles and candelabrum as we can spare.”

Frank
nodded and turned the carriage around to go back to the house. Annabelle unlocked the front door.

“Do you need any help?” Billy asked.

“Thank you but you’d better get back to your father,” she said. “Just wait one second.” They didn’t keep much money on the premises but they did keep some petty cash in her office overnight. She retrieved a shilling and gave it to Billy, then she grabbed a broom and headed outside to begin cleaning up.

By the time the others arrived, Annabelle had already
knocked the rest of the glass shards from their frames and swept most of the glass outside. Minnie and Ethel took over the clean-up, then Annabelle gave instructions to Frank to find some wood and nails to board the windows up and when he was done, find a glazier to arrange for a quote, although she dreaded what it might come to.

She headed back into the kitchen
to start cooking but once she was through the door and alone, she stopped and took a few deep, calming breaths. Her eyes began to sting with tears but she blinked them back.

She had no proof that
Frederick was behind this, but she knew. It was just too much of a coincidence for her to believe otherwise.

Still, she had endured much worse, she could endure this too.

When she was sufficiently calm, she got the mixing bowls out and set about preparing the day’s baked goods.

She
had been working for perhaps half an hour when there came a knock at the back door and she opened it to see the upstairs neighbour, Mr Braithwaite. He was in his 40’s, with salt and pepper hair and a kindly face.

“Miss Wyatt, how are you?” Mr Braithwaite asked. He was a wealthy merchant who had a nice country estate, but leased the
house above the coffee house for when he needed to be in town.

“I’ve been better,” she admitted.

“You’re still planning to open?” he asked seeing the mixing bowls.

“The show must go on. I won’t let something trifling like this stop me.”

He smiled. “It seems your property did get the worst of it, I’m afraid. I suppose I’m lucky that their aim wasn’t terribly good.”

“Was the
re much damage upstairs?”

“No, just glass on the floor
and a few stones. No damage at all to the top floor.”

“Do you know what happened
? Did you or your staff hear anything?”

“My ro
om is at the rear so I didn’t hear a thing, but my butler was awoken at 3am. He called out of the window and they fled.”

“They?”

“Yes, he said there were two of them. Anyway, I must be getting to the office now, I just wanted to inform you that the police have been notified and will be along later to speak with you. I’ve also instructed my butler to give you any assistance that you might need, so I hope that you will ask should you need any help.”

“Thank you, Mr Braithwaite, but I think we will be fine.”

“As you wish. The offer is still there should you need it.”

“Thank you.”

The morning was full of such interruptions. First the butcher’s boy delivered the pork and rabbit for today’s stews; he was followed by the grocer’s lad with vegetables and both boys enquired after how well Annabelle was doing. Then came the milk maid, who wanted to know all the details, then coffee house regulars wanted to come back into the kitchen to ask if she was all right. Next the police showed up and took a statement, not that she had anything to tell them. She didn’t mention Frederick because she was sure that if he was behind this, he would not have done it in person. He was immoral but not stupid.

At noon the glazier came to measure up and give them a quote and Annabelle hadn’t ha
d a chance to bake the bread, nor even begun to frost the cakes yet, so she sent Ethel to the bakers to buy bread for that day and took the unusual step of banning any customers from the kitchen until further notice.

An hour later she was done and knowing that it couldn’t be avoided, she headed front of house to
greet the regulars. The boarded-up windows cast the room into darkness but the ceiling chandelier had been loaded with candles and lit, each table had at least one candle and the counters held the larger candelabrum. The candlelight served to give the room a wintery feel, even although it was only early October.

Everyone wanted to know how she was and what had happened, s
o she had to retell the same story over and over. Today the lunch rush didn’t seem to ease, so Annabelle began cooking the evening stew early, which meant that she had to send Ethel out to the butcher for more meat.

The pressure piled up until she felt like screaming
, but she somehow kept her frustration in check. She was still preparing the evening stew when she realised that the afternoon deliveries hadn’t been done. Other than Annabelle, Frank was the only one at the coffee house who could read, which meant that he was her only choice to do the afternoon deliveries, as he could read the orders and addresses. That meant that Ethel had to watch the cauldron and make the coffees whilst he was out.

Alone in the kitchen, she couldn’t help but finally cry as she chopped the turnips for the stew.
She did manage to hold her sobs back but silent tears trickled down her face and fell onto her apron.

She knew she should be relieved
that things weren’t worse; no one was hurt and there was no lasting damage done, but the damage to her bank balance was undeniable. She had only had the opportunity to glance at the glazier’s estimate but it wasn’t cheap. She had also decided yesterday that after the protection and help they had offered her, she couldn’t charge the Armstrongs for her services at the weekend.

She already knew that she couldn’t cover the additional fuel costs over the
winter, now with the extra expense of new windows, plus God only knew how many candles until the glass was replaced, she could see that she had little choice but to pawn her sapphire necklace.

When someone knocked on the door from the
main room (which Minnie and Ethel never bothered to do, being staff) she snapped.

“No visitors today!” she
called, nonetheless wiping her eyes in case they came in anyway, which they did. She got up from the table and turned to them, ready to give them a piece of her mind, only to see Richard standing there, his expression warm and understanding and his arms held out towards her.

The last o
f her resolve crumbled then and she ran into his arms, violent sobs wracking her body.

“
Ssh,” he soothed, guiding her from the small kitchen and into her office, where she could have some privacy.

She cried for quite some time and Richard continued to hold her
, her head tucked under his chin, his hands rubbing the length of her back as he murmured soothing nonsense.

Finally her sobs subsided and she pulled away, searching her apron for a handkerchief.

“Here.” Richard handed her his.

“Thank you,” she said wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry about that, I just-“

“No explanations necessary,” he assured her.

“Well, as nice as it is to see you, I had better get back to work. I haven’t even-”

“Ssh,” he soothed again, placing a finger across her lips. “My cook and kitchen maid have come to help, they will handle the rest of the cooking for today.”

“Oh, no I couldn’t impose, I-“

“You aren’t imposing, Anna. If you think I’m leaving you here alone after what’s happe
ned, especially since Frank isn’t out front at the moment, then you’re very much mistaken. And since I shall be dining here, it makes sense that my cook be here also.”

“But-“

“But nothing.” He cupped her face in his hands. “You aren’t alone in this anymore, Anna. Lean on me when you need to.”

She smiled and fresh tears sprang from her eyes,
although this time, of gratitude. Richard kissed each tear way until Annabelle closed her eyes and he kissed her lips instead. She responded, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him against her. She deepened the kiss and he could sense an urgency in her actions that he hadn’t felt before.

When she finally ended the kiss, she didn’t pull away, but rested her forehead against his as she tried to regain some of her equilibrium.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice still husky with desire.

“I hope that kiss wasn’t a form of payment,” he said trying not to sound defensive. In truth though, he was a little stung that she hadn’t thought to tell him what had happened, he’d had to find out from a friend at lunch time.

“The kiss was for me,” she assured him. “The thanks was for holding me as I soaked your shirt.” She ran her hand over his shirt and waistcoat, which were both damp with her tears.

“Holding you
is never an imposition,” he assured her. “Now, I’m willing to bet that you haven’t stopped all day correct?”

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

“His hands went to her hair, which still hung in loose curls down her back. “You didn’t put your hair up.”

She smiled. “I keep the
pins in my reticule, which I forgot to bring with me this morning.”

“I thought it had to be something like that. Now,” he took her by the sh
oulders and led her to her desk chair. “You sit here and don’t move a muscle until I return.”

“A
nd what if I do?”

“The
n I shall lock you in here, got it?”

Annabelle nodded, smiling at his protective behaviour and Richard stole a quick kiss before departing.

Seeing him really had been quite a balm for her frazzled mood and she sat back in her chair and tried not to think of everything that she still had to do in the next few days. She wasn’t exactly successful but then, Richard wasn’t gone for long, reappearing a few moments later with a tray. He sat it on her desk and unloaded a pot of tea, cups, two bowls of stew, bread, cutlery and two slices of cake for dessert.

“I’ll bet you haven’t eaten all day,” he said.

“I haven’t felt hungry,” she admitted.

“Still, you must eat.”

He tucked into his portion and now that she had calmed down, Annabelle did feel hungry and began to eat her own.

“So, what still needs doing?” he asked conversationally, knowing that
what seemed overwhelming could seem a lot less daunting once discussed rationally.