The Reluctant Duchess (16 page)

“You’re right. Unfortunately
, she also has an aversion to marriage.”

“I would say it was more of an aversion to trust than marriage.”

Richard nodded his agreement. “You are right, of course. And she won’t appreciate this gesture, she will see it as further evidence of my trying to buy her affections.”

“She won’t,” Braithwaite sat forward. “She fears that, yes but if you truly are a good m
an, deep down she will know it’s not true.”

Richard actually quite liked this man
, even if he couldn’t quite believe him. “So, do we have a deal?”

Braithwaite stood up and offered his hand. “We do.”

They shook hands.

“
When you and your wife are settled, Mother and I will invite you for dinner; see if we can’t introduce your wife to a few of London’s elite.”

“I would
appreciate that. Thank you.”

Following her disastrous meeting with Richard, Annabelle didn’t see him again for almost another three weeks. She knew that she needed to apologise but she kept telling herself that this was better, that she couldn’t allow this man so much power over her life.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t make herself believe it.

She spent her nights lying awake, wondering if
Frederick would buy the lease on her shop, and her day trying not to think about Richard and talking herself out of visiting him. She knew that Mr Braithwaite had found a buyer, a friend, he claimed, and he was moving out in less than a week but she hadn’t had the courage to ask the name of the man who had bought it yet. Sometimes ignorance was bliss.

A part of her felt like a fool for not accepting Richard’s offer to buy the l
ease, but the other part of her felt that she couldn’t keep giving him that kind of power over her.

She had decided that if
Frederick had indeed bought the leasehold, she would turn the ground floor of her home into a gambling establishment. They were perfectly legal, very profitable and whilst the few women who did run such establishments had been ridiculed, she could live with being a social pariah, as long as her mother and her staff were safe. It had the added benefit that she owned her own home, so there was no way that Frederick could touch this new business.

She didn’t have much money to spruce the place up but she ha
d one item of jewellery left to sell, her mother’s pearls, which had been handed down to her for her coming out. She had never even worn them but she kept them with her debutantes dress anyway. She wasn’t sure why she kept the pearls or the dress. She didn’t long for that life anymore but equally, there was a part of her that remembered those days of ease and the lack of responsibility with a certain amount of fondness. Although it didn’t always suit her, that life had been easy and whilst this life was rewarding, it definitely was not easy.

Her mother had been very eager for Annabelle’s coming out and they had designed the dress together, months before she could be presented at court. Her mother was already showing troubling signs of mental decline but she was herself most of the time. Annabelle hadn’t really understood what those early memory lapses and spells of confusion could mean for her mother and like many children, she didn’t think too deeply about it. In her mind, her mother had always been there and would always be there. Even if she had
seriously considered the situation, she doubted that she could have envisioned her mother’s current predicament.

Because she had never w
orn the pearls, she didn’t really view them as hers and she had always been reluctant to sell them. She recognised that it was some infantile hope that her mother would one day recover and present her at court, as Evelina had once so longed to do and whilst Annabelle knew that was impossible, she couldn’t quite kill that dream.

But it was time to grow up now and if the pearls had to go, then they would.

With a plan for her future under her belt now, she felt free to go and see Richard, without feeling as if she was begging for charity at the King’s table.

It
was the last Sunday in September and wearing one of her nicer gowns, she held her head high and walked straight up to the front door of his house in St. James Square. She didn’t have a card to present, but then Richard wouldn’t be bothered about such a social nicety going unobserved.

The butler informed her that Richard was out but
that the Dowager Duchess was at home, so she waited in the hall whilst he asked Lavinia if she wanted to see their visitor. Thankfully she did, and came forward to greet her with a kiss on the cheek as Annabelle entered the sitting room.

“Annabelle, darling, how have you been?” she led her over to the seats.

“Very well, thank you, Lavinia. And you?”

“I got dreadfully
bored in that large house all by myself. Most of my children came to visit after James died but they have their own families now and I don’t like to impose too much, so I decided to come and see what was happening in London for a while.”

“How many children do you have?”

“Six. Five girls and Richard. Unfortunately there seems to be some conspiracy among the girls to live as far away from me as is humanly possible.”

“Surely not.”

“One married a diplomat and is currently with him in Spain. One married a Scottish laird and lives in the middle of nowhere. One emigrated to America five years ago, although of all my girls, she writes the most frequently. My youngest daughter is currently out there visiting her and only the last one is in London. Her daughter comes of age next year and she wants to introduce her to Society gradually, so they are in London until November.”

“Have you been here long?”

“I arrived yesterday. I was going to come and visit you in your shop tomorrow.”

“If you aren’t tired of me, then you’re more than welcome to come and see me.  I now make those raspberry crescent rolls
for the coffee house, and I remember how much you liked them. ”

“In that case, I shall definitely be there.” She smiled. “I’m sorry Richard isn’t at home. Was
there something important you needed him for?”

“Nothing that won’t wait.
I just need to apologise. The last time we met, I said some very unkind things to him.”

Lavinia looked sympathetic. As much as she felt
that Annabelle and her son were made for each other, they were their own worst enemies at times.

“Will you tell him
that I called?”

“Of course. Now tell me how you have been, really? I know that this business with your brother can’t have been easy.”

“It led to a few sleepless nights, I confess but I have a plan now, so I feel much happier.”

“Can I ask what this plan is?”

“If you don’t mind, I would rather not say but it is not in any way illegal or immoral.”

Lavinia smiled. “You are a survivor.” She said. “That is a rare quality and one that I must admire, even if your plan was illegal or immoral.”

They talked for a while longer but after two hours, Annabelle felt that she should be going. She had been hoping that Richard would return but clearly his errand was taking longer than she had hoped.

“Please tell your son that I shall call on him next Sunday.”

“I’m certain that he will come and see you before then, my dear.”

Annabelle didn’t look nearly so certain.

Once she had left, Lavinia moved to her sitting room to await Richard’s return. It took another two hours but finally he came back. Lavinia glared at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, for he was rarely in his mother’s bad books.

“I had a visitor while you were out,” she explained. “Annabelle came to apologise to you.”

“I’
ll stop by the shop tomorrow and see her,” he said, hoping to placate her.

“Make sure you wash
that perfume off first.”

Richard sighed. “How did you know?” he asked, because he wasn’t close enough for her to smell anything on him.

“I turned a blind eye to your dalliances when you were young but I am not an idiot Richard. Nor is Annabelle. You are a fool to risk what you could have with her, for some woman you don’t love and who is already married.”

“I have nothing
with Annabelle and likely, never will.”

“
Nothing worth having comes easily Richard, because if it did, we wouldn’t value it.”

“Spare me the platitudes, M
other.”

“I will not! You’
re making a mistake, Richard and if a woman like Annabelle ever discovers what you’re up to, you will lose her forever.”

In truth, Richard didn’t quite understand why he still saw Ada, because he s
pent the whole time he was with her wishing that she was Anna. But then of course if she was Anna, she would never have married a man who she didn’t love, who was old enough to be her father, just for his wealth and then proceed to have affairs to satisfy her needs.

That was one of the reasons that he loved Anna.

He was used to women flirting with him as he was something of a catch, and he wasn’t being conceited when he said that because he actually hated it. Most of those girls and women did their best to become what he wanted in a wife, rather than being themselves and it was hard to actually get to know them. Some weren’t after his money or title, he admitted but how did you get to know someone who was always putting their best foot forward, hiding their own needs in order to become their idea of the ideal woman?

Anna
didn’t care about his money or his title. She didn’t care what he thought of who she was or what she was doing, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she liked him for who he was, not what he was.

That was one of the reasons he liked married women as his partners, because they didn’t care so much about impressing him. They already had their husbands, so
any attraction that they felt for him was real.

Only they weren’t enough anymore. He’d had a taste of genuine affection, love even, and that was a thousand times more fulfilling than what he had shared with any of his mistresses.

If only the woman he loved didn’t have more trust issues than the Court of Chancery.

Annabelle was sitting beside the fire in her study, feeling morose and regretting both her stubbornness and temper, which she felt had lost her the best friend she had ever had. She knew that she had been a fool to be so distrusting of him, always suspecting ulterior motives behind his every attempt to help her.

She had been so hopeful as she headed to his house
earlier and even when he wasn’t there, she still had hope. It had been her conversation with Lavinia that had dimmed her hope. It was nothing that the other woman had said, but rather a hesitance whenever she referred to Richard.

Annabelle could only assume that he had told her everything
, and her hesitance came from Richard’s reluctance to forgive her. She couldn’t blame him.

As
she thought back over her life, she felt that her reticence when it came to relationships was well founded but she had made one crucial mistake, she had tarred all men with the same brush and if there was ever a man who was undeserving of that reputation, it was Richard.

He had gone out of his way to help her, to be there for her and
sometimes, even just to make her smile. She remembered when she and his mother had laughed at his attempt to ice the offcuts of her torte; how he had seemed to enjoy their pleasure, rather than showing anger because he was the subject of their mirth.

It was only now, when she feared losing him, that she finally admitted how much he had come to mean to her. She loved him.

Although she thought it unlikely, if by some miracle he did forgive her, she vowed to try harder to appreciate him and to trust him.

Although she’d already had her one brandy for today, she decided that just this once
, she could have two and rose to pour a second measure.

Someone knocked on the front door and Annabelle looked to the clock on the mantle, which said it was just past
8 o’clock. Hardly anyone called at the house and most people would be sitting down to dinner about now, so she was at a loss to think who was at the door. Of course she hoped that it was Richard, but she firmly damped those hopes down and went out into the hallway to answer the door.

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw Richard standing there, looking a little surprised. The soft light from the gas lamps gave his features a warm glow.

“No servants?” he asked, running a hand through his hair, which looked slightly more dishevelled than normal.

“I eat early on a Sunday so they can have the evening off.”
She had been so certain that it wouldn’t be him at the door and having not seen him for three weeks, she was feeling a little nonplussed by his appearance. “Um, please, come in.”

She stood back so that he could enter, then closed the door behind him.

“I was just about to have a brandy, would you like to join me?”