The Reluctant Duchess (22 page)

That night
she went into her own room for bed, then came through to his and lay down beside him. She stayed awake much longer tonight, just listening to him struggle to breathe.

“I’m sorry I said I wasn’t ready to marry you,” she said softly. She didn’t know if he was still awake or not but she had to say it. “I was just silly and scared. Sometimes I think that my most prevalent
emotion is fear. Fear of not being able to support us all, fear of my reputation being spoiled, fear of Frederick. You made me feel brave for the first time in… well, probably ever and I repaid you with mistrust. I’m so sorry, Richard.”

He gave no indication that h
e had heard her so by the time she had finished, she was almost certain that he was asleep, until he bent the arm she was leaning on and stroked her hair.

“I love… you.”

“I love you too, darling.”

Richard appeared slightly better the next day but Annabelle didn’t dare get her hopes up too much yet. The day passed in much the same way as the one before it, except that today she also had some letters to read to him, that yesterday’s callers had sent. Many of them were from eligible young women, or mentioned a daughter who wished him a speedy recovery.

He also ate some scrambled
eggs, after gargling with the laudanum, although ice cream still made up the majority of his food intake.

By t
he following day, she was certain that he was getting better but his coughing fits still struck fear into her heart. He also insisted on cutting back the laudanum doses, as he disliked the way it made him feel.

The day after that, the Sunday, he insisted on going downstairs,
although he dressed only in his nightclothes and a robe. He was as feeble as an invalid but he slowly made his way to his mother’s sitting room, where he remained for the rest of the day. He refused all but a few drops of laudanum, though he took a full dose before bed, which both Lavinia and Annabelle insisted on, then he allow the servants to carry him to upstairs.

His breathing actually seemed easier now that he was sitting in a chair rather than propped up in bed.
Annabelle still read to him but more because he liked the sound of her voice, than because he couldn’t read for himself.

No one called for him today, probably because it was a Sunday but he knew that from tomorrow, he would have to accept callers. So he made the most of today, enjoying every last second
of Annabelle’s company.

He wanted to bring up her confession of a few nights ago
, but he still felt too weak to discuss any long term plans. The whole memory was fuzzy, but he was sure that she had said words to the effect of ‘I’m sorry I didn’t agree to marry you’. He just hoped that she didn’t change her mind in the near future, so that he would get a proper opportunity to ask her to marry him again.

That evening in bed his hands began to wander, even
although he knew that he didn’t have the stamina just now to make love to her. Worried about what it could do to his health, Annabelle stopped him and when he complained, she lavished attention on him, insisting that he lay still whilst she took the evidence of his arousal in her mouth and pleasured him. He became excited but with the help of his nightly dose of laudanum, he was able to suppress his cough until she had finished.

“Thank you,” he said as pulled her against him
, once his coughing fit had passed.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked.

“I’m fine, honestly.”

“I’ll make love to you properly when you’re feeling better.” She assured him.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, although he was only half teasing. “I’m going to miss waking up with you.”

“Me too,” Annabelle admitted. “But maybe it won’t be too long before we can wake up together every day.”

“I hope so.” He smiled and turned to kiss the crown of her head.

On Monday he got dressed, although he forewent the waistcoat and cravat. Dr Medway came to see him that morning and was pleased with his progress.

His throat now only hurt when he ate s
olid food and he could talk with only a little discomfort. His breathing was also easier, although still much shallower than normal.

They spent the morning in his mother’s sitting room again then in the afternoon, Richard moved into the fro
nt parlour to greet any callers. Claiming that he must be sick of the both of them, Lavinia went to her daughter’s for the afternoon. Annabelle excused herself and went to the coffee house to check on things, although mainly she just didn’t want to be there whilst Richard greeted a myriad of wealthy, eligible, single young women.

Lavinia
insisted on walking to her daughter’s house, which was just two streets away, leaving the carriage for Annabelle. Despite her protests, Lavinia was adamant, insisting that she wanted to enjoy the last of the sun before winter set in.

As Annabelle climbed into
the carriage, she saw that Sampson was already waiting for her.

“How’s he doing?” Sampson asked as he helped her inside.

“Better,” she assured him. “I haven’t had an opportunity to say anything before, but thank you for your help that night. I don’t know where I would have found a horse.”

“Well, I didn’t so much find it, as steal it. Don’t worry, I took it back and left a pound note for the owners.”

“However you acquired it, thank you. I didn’t realise that you were still keeping an eye out for me.”

“The threat h
asn’t gone, so I watch this house, whilst the others take the coffee house and your home.”

“Thank you.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence and Anna had time to contemplate recent events. She had never considered that the coffee house would ever be less than her top priority but recent events had changed her mind. Seeing Richard so poorly had made her wonder how she would feel without him in her life, and she didn’t like that idea one bit. She didn’t think that she had ever been as scared as she was the day after the fire, as his condition slowly worsened. She had prayed for him dozens of times and by some miracle, her prayers seemed to have been answered.

She had a second chance now, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to los
e him because of her own pride or fear.

She didn’t know what might happen to the coffee house. She knew that she couldn’t put in the same hours she did now once
she was married, but would she keep it and install a new cook, or sell it? For years there had been a simmering attraction between Minnie and Frank but as they couldn’t afford their own house, it had never progressed beyond friendship. Annabelle could gift the coffee house to them, which would allow them to finally marry. They might even be able to afford to rent the house above from Richard, if they didn’t have too many servants, or perhaps rented out some rooms to eligible young men. Ethel, Sal and Ruth could be found positions among Richards’s staff and of course, Jones would stay with her mother for as long as her mother lived, her bond to Evelina was that strong.

She didn’t know what Richard would end up choosing as his vocation in life. Would he want to return to his estate and run that, or remain in London
for most of the year?

She didn’t even know how she would occupy herself each day, or how she would adapt to not being able to bake every day
, but she was determined not to let these doubts deter her from loving Richard.

Wearing another one of Lavinia’s dresses, she looked more elegant than she usually did at work and most of the customers
’ heads turned towards her as she entered. Sampson sat down with one of the other detectives and they began to chat, whilst Annabelle spoke briefly with Minnie and Frederick, then made her rounds of the customers.

Most asked about the fire and Richard’s condition
and she assured them all that he was on the mend, but it might be a while yet before he was out and about. She carefully dropped mentions of Lavinia into the conversation, so that they would know that there had been no impropriety on her part. No mother would invite a son’s mistress to stay in their home, after all.

When she had chatted to everyone, she headed through to the kitchen.

The weekend that she had gone away to Lavinia’s had necessitated that she go through everything with the staff and Ruth, which thankfully meant that things had run like clockwork this time. Were it not for that, she was certain that there could have been chaos in her absence.

Once assured that there had been no problems, she headed through to her office and began to pay the previous week
’s bills, leaving envelopes with the correct amount of money and who they were to go to written on the front. Thankfully Ruth, who had taken over for her in the kitchen, could read a little (she had to learn as kitchen maid in her father’s house in order to follow recipes) so she would know whether each envelope was for the butcher or grocer etc.

With that job finished, she headed out to the kitchen and placed the envelopes just out of sight behind the sugar jar, just in case any delivery boys spotted them and decided to make some easy money.

With her tasks done, she found that she was eager to get back to Richard and so after speaking with a few other customers who had come in while she was in the back, she and Sampson headed back to St James Square.

Sampson was the ‘head’ detective, as it were and all the o
thers who were investigating, watching her house, the coffee house and Frederick, worked for him. Annabelle quizzed him about his investigation on the journey back but whilst he had dug up a few more of Frederick’s secrets, he couldn’t find anyone willing to press charges against him.

Another carriage was outside as they pulled up and the front door was just closing, so she assumed that the most recent visitor had just arrived. She considered going to her room and waiting until everyone had gone home but decided against it. If she was going to become
Richards’s wife, she needed to get over her fear of being among her own class. She was a Lady after all, born and bred aristocracy, she just hadn’t had a chance to mingle in polite society as an adult. It was time to rectify that deficiency now.

She didn’t bother knocking as she was staying here, so there was no butler to greet her and show her in.
Instead she removed her cape and headed to the parlour but something in the visitor’s voice made her stop outside. Although she couldn't see them through the ajar door, she could hear them perfectly.

“Richard, darling, how I have missed you.” Ada said, bending to kiss him but Richard took a hold of her upper arms, stopping her.

“Ada, now really isn’t a good time.”

“Nonsense, I’ve been away for two weeks and now I need a skilful lover to make me forget my husband’s blunt, fumbling attempts.”

He should have broken it off with her as soon as he’d slept with Annabelle but she was all that he could think about for
a few days and by the time he remembered Ada, she and her husband had headed to their country estate. He considered writing but it was so impersonal. Now he was regretting that choice.

“Ada, I’m really not up to anything at the moment. I pant
like an old man just walking a dozen paces.”

“Oh but Richard, I need you! I
was so worried when I heard that you were injured. I wanted to come back to London immediately but I couldn’t without Edmund asking awkward questions.”

She pressed her lips to his as Richard tried to push her away but he knew that if he exerted himself too much, he would have a coughing fit, which r
eally wasn’t very pleasant.

Annabelle stared at the door in shock. How could he do this to her? And more importantly, how could she have fallen for his lies!

She felt like such a fool.

Her eyes stung with unshed tears but she refused to cry. Instead she ran back outside to find that the driver was still talking with Sampson, and so hadn’t put the horse and carriage away yet.

“I need to go home, will you take me?” she asked the driver.

“Anywhere you want to go,” he assured her.

“Conduit Street, please.”

She got into the carriage and Sampson made to get in behind her.

“Oh, Richard asked if you would
wait here, he wants a quick word with you once he’s seen his guest.”

Sampson
didn’t looked convinced

“What can happen on a carriag
e ride?” she asked rhetorically, so finally he nodded and stepped away.

She held her tears at bay until she got home and instructed her staff that no one was to let
Richard Armstrong into her house under any circumstances, under pain of being fired. She would never fire any of them in reality and they probably knew that, however she needed them to know how serious she was about this.

T
hen finally, locked alone in her room, she let her tears flow freely. She cursed the day she had ever met Richard and vehemently wished that she could take her actions of the past few weeks back. Looking back on it now, it felt like some sort of dream, with an air of unreality about it. She wasn’t a woman who jumped into bed with the first man she saw. She didn’t go forgetting the risks of sex. She wasn’t easily manipulated.