The Runaway Duchess (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

Twinings
Tea Shop was tucked away on the relatively quiet corner of Broad Street and
Park. It was an old brick building that sagged a little here and there, but it
was cheerful despite its age and there was rarely an hour that went by when it
was not filled to the brim. High noon on a Tuesday was certainly no exception,
with carriages lined up around the block and a long line of patrons twisting
out the door waiting to get in.

Charlotte
had managed to escape from her mother’s watchful eye using the tried and true
excuse of a shopping expedition with her best friend Dianna Foxcroft, a young
lady of distinguishable character whom even Bettina could not find fault with.

Short
and plump and perfectly adorable with blond ringlets, rosy cheeks, and dancing
blue eyes Dianna had been friends with Charlotte since childhood and the two
women rarely went a day without seeing each other. There were no secrets
between them, and thus it was with great reluctance that Dianna agreed to wait
in the carriage while Charlotte met with Tabitha.

“I
am afraid if I bring another person it will scare her even more,” Charlotte
explained. “And I need to know what she has to say.”

“Oh,
very well.” Waving her hand in the air, Dianna rolled her eyes and slumped back
into a plush velvet seat cushion. Their chaperone, a distant relation of
Dianna’s by way of marriage, did not even bother looking up from her book.

A
sweet natured spinster in her late forties, Miss Abigail Mannish and Dianna had
long ago worked out an agreement: Abigail never repeated anything she overheard
and Dianna kept her supplied with endless reading materials purchased with her
father’s generous allowance.

“I
will simply wait here twiddling my thumbs. You will tell me every word, of
course.” It wasn’t a question, and Charlotte didn’t treat it as such.

“Of
course,” she said solemnly. “Every word.”

“Off
with you then.” Making the smallest of faces, Dianna rapped her fist against
the window and the carriage door was promptly opened by the driver. “I will
stay here and gossip with Miss Abigail.”

Startling
at the sound of her name, Abigail looked up from her book and blinked owlishly
at them from behind thick wire rimmed spectacles. “What? Who?”

“Nothing,
Miss Abigail.” Dianna sighed. “Charlotte is just going to a secret meeting with
her own maid to discuss the horrible things her husband-to-be has done.”

“He
is
not
my husband-to-be.”

Abigail
glanced down regretfully at her book and closed it, but only after making sure
to mark the page. Pulling her spectacles to the tip of her long, narrow nose
she turned her attention to Charlotte. “I did not know you were engaged. What
is his name, dear?”

“Miss
Abigail, I am not—”

“The
Duke of Tarrow,” Dianna interjected.

“Crane?”
Abigail said, referring to the duke by his less commonly used surname. “You are
to wed Crane? Is he not a bit old for you?”

Charlotte
nodded so vigorously her hat strings came untied. “Yes. Precisely so, Miss
Abigail. But my mother refuses to listen to reason, and—”

“I
was engaged to a duke once, you know.”

Charlotte
and Dianna exchanged wide-eyed glances. No, they most certainly did
not
know.

“A
duke, Aunt Abigail?” Dianna said dubiously. “Are you certain?”

“Am
I certain who I was once engaged to?” The faintest hint of a smile curved the
aging spinster’s mouth and for an instant, despite her graying hair and
weathered features, Charlotte caught a glimpse of the great beauty she had once
been. “Yes, I do believe I am. I may now spend my days with my nose buried in a
book, but it wasn’t always so, my dears. I once led quite the exciting life.”

“What
was his name?” Charlotte asked.

“And
what happened?” Dianna piped in.

Taking
a moment, Abigail smoothed her skirt into place before resting her hands across
her lap. Her gaze was distant as she spoke, as though she had gone to another
time and place, and in some small way Charlotte supposed she had. “His name was
Reginald Browning the Third, Duke of Ashburn.” The corners of her eyes crinkled
as she smiled. “I called him Rocky. We grew up next to each other and a result
became fast childhood friends, even though he was destined to inherit a dukedom
and I was the third daughter of a Baron. He asked me to marry him on my
seventeenth birthday. He was the impulsive sort. We both were.”

“Oh,
how romantic,” Dianna sighed.

Charlotte,
noting the way Abigail’s hands tightened reflexively on the spine of her book,
said nothing.

“Romantic,
yes. Practical, no. Rocky’s mother was furious with him, and with me. She
demanded he break the engagement. By then it had gone public, of course.”

“Oh
dear,” Dianna murmured. 

“Yes,”
Abigail agreed, “‘oh dear’ sums it up quite nicely. Rocky said he loved me, and
I believed him. But we both knew the engagement could not continue, and he
ended it a week later. We fell out of touch after that. I saw him occasionally
in London, but after his father died and he became a duke he ran with a more
exclusive set than I did. He ended up married to the daughter of a marquess, I
believe, and moved to France to be near her family, leaving his brother in charge
of all his holdings here.” Abigail blinked, and her gray eyes cleared. “I have
not seen him since.” There was no remorse or anger in her tone, only a quiet
finality that somehow made it all the worse.

“He
should have stuck by you.” Charlotte’s brow furrowed at the thought of anyone
leaving poor, sweet Abigail. “If he truly loved you, he never would have let
you go.”

Dianna’s
rosebud mouth twisted into a rare scowl. “He sounds like a complete beast, Aunt
Abigail. You are lucky you did not have to marry him.”

“Yes,
well, it is what it is, my dears. Charlotte?”

“Hmm?”

“Did
you not say you were meeting someone?”

“Oh!”
Charlotte’s hazel eyes went wide and she scrambled to her feet, ducking her
head just in time to save herself from striking it against the roof of the
carriage. “Tabitha! I completely forgot. I hope she hasn’t left.”

“Good
luck,” Dianna called after her as she pushed open the door the poor driver had
been so patiently holding and stepped down onto the cobblestones. Instantly the
scents and sounds of London assaulted her and she braced herself against them,
taking a moment to get her bearings before dashing towards Twinings as fast as
her heavy skirts would allow.

Dodging
elbows and ducking under heavy silver trays weighed down by an array of
scrumptious smelling cakes and pastries, Charlotte fought her way to the back
of the crowded shop, looking this way and that in a valiant effort to find
Tabitha amidst the barely controlled chaos. Hearing her name being called she
turned to the left, and a relieved smile broke across her face when she saw her
maid sitting at a small wooden table tucked neatly into a far corner.

“I
am so sorry,” she gasped, well out of breath by the time she reached Tabitha
and collapsed into an empty chair. “My friend’s aunt was telling us a story and
I quite lost track of time. Thank you for waiting.”

Tabitha
bobbed her head and plucked nervously at a loose string on the sleeve hem of
her plain brown dress. As usual her hair was pulled ruthlessly back from her
face and pinned up in a tight coil at the nape of her long neck. She wore no
adornments or jewelry, and Charlotte could not help but wonder if it was
because she had none to wear or she preferred not to draw attention to herself
with flashy baubles.

Probably
both, she decided as her fingers unconsciously drifted to the pearl necklace
she had looped around her own throat. “Is someone else joining us?” she asked,
noting for the first time there were not two, but three cups of hot tea on the
table. Adding a lump of sugar to the cup that was sitting in front of her, she
blew across the top and took a small, careful sip.

“Yes,”
Tabitha said.

When
she failed to elaborate, Charlotte merely took another sip of her tea. It was
rather exciting, she thought, to meet under such mysterious circumstances. With
the exception of her unwanted engagement to the duke, nothing out of the
ordinary ever seemed to happen to her. Her upbringing had been ordinary. Her
debut into Society textbook. She had, up until this point, led a very dull, boring
life filled with more don’ts than do’s.

Do
not voice an opinion.

Do
not speak unless spoken to.

Do
not go outside without a hat.

Do
not go outside without gloves.

Do
not go anywhere without a chaperone.

There
were countless more, but it made Charlotte depressed to think of them all, and
so she set her mind to guessing who the third cup of tea might belong to. A
secret informant? An illicit lover? She brightened at the thought. Perhaps
Tabitha was involved in a scandal and she had really asked Charlotte to meet
her because she was preparing to run away with a prince from a faraway country
where they would live happily-ever-after and—

“Lady
Charlotte, this is my sister Vera.”

All
thoughts of princes and scandals and lovers faded away as Charlotte twisted in
her seat. She saw the resemblance between Tabitha and Vera immediately.

In
addition to being of similar height and build, Vera possessed the same pinched
look of worry as her sibling, as if she were waiting for bad news to befall her
at any moment. She sidled up next to Tabitha and glanced sideways at Charlotte,
her murky brown eyes filled with suspicion.

“Is
this her, then?” she asked.

“Yes.
This is Lady Charlotte.”

“Do
sit down,” Charlotte urged, gesturing towards the last empty chair.

Vera
sat gingerly on the very edge, but she kept her beaded purse clutched tightly
in both hands and the heels of her boots planted firmly on the floor as though
ready to bolt at the smallest provocation. “My name is Vera,” she said
needlessly.

“That
is a lovely name.” Charlotte extended her right hand across the table, but Vera
refused to lift her fingers from her purse, and after a few seconds of awkward
waiting she drew her arm back.

“
Vera
,”
Tabitha hissed, her cheeks going pink with mortification. “Remember your
manners! Lady Charlotte, I am so very sorry—”

“Don’t
you go apologizin’ for me.” Vera sniffed. “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” She
spoke with a cockney twang that betrayed her lack of education, and the
challenging lift of one dark eyebrow dared Charlotte to say something about it.

Quickly
reassessing her initial impression of Vera – while she certainly looked like
her sister, albeit several years older, they were
nothing
alike –
Charlotte managed what she hoped was a diplomatic smile and said, “Would you
like some pastries? Their yellow meringue tarts are quite delicious.”

Vera
tilted her head to the side. “Tarts would be nice. I ain’t had one of them in a
while.”

“Tarts
it is.” Flagging down a member of the staff, Charlotte placed an order for six fresh
lemon meringue tarts. By the time she was finished Vera had noticeably relaxed
and even went so far as to lift one hand from her purse.

“Tabby
said you was kind like,” she said. “I wasn’t sure what to believe – ye never
know what to expect with you meet hoity toity nabobs – but ye seem nice enough
I guess.”

“I…
Thank you?” Charlotte ventured.

Vera
nodded regally, as though she had just granted a very fine compliment. “Yer
welcome. My sister also said you were engaged to
that
man.”

“The
Duke of Tarrow?”

Vera’s
eyes narrowed. “Yeah.”

“Yes,”
Tabitha corrected her in a small voice. “It is pronounced ‘yes’.”

Vera
glared sideways at her sister. “Did Tabby tell you there were five of us in
all? I’m the oldest, Tabby here is the baby. Our mum popped out a new one every
year until she died of the pox. I took care of the lot. Raised ‘em like they
were my own. Tabby here is the best of us. She went and got herself a fine
education, she did. Learned how to speak by takin’ care of rich nabob’s kids
for ‘em starting when she was twelve. Now she thinks she’s better than the lot
of us on account of her fancy way of speakin’ and nice clothes.”

It
was quite difficult for Charlotte not to take an instant dislike to Vera. She
did not approve of her treatment of Tabitha and were they under different
circumstances she would have surely objected, but she didn’t want to raise a
fuss and frighten Vera away, nor cause more problems between the sisters then
what clearly already existed. So she bit her tongue, always a difficult thing
for her to do, and struggled to keep a smile on her face.   

Her
cheeks brighter than ever, Tabby shrank back into her chair and stared
miserably down at her cup of tea. “I do not think that, Vera. You know I don’t.
Please just tell Lady Charlotte what you came to tell her.

Vera’s
expression was shrewd. “And then you’ll give me the five shillings like ye
promised?”

It
seemed Charlotte was not going to be able to hold her tongue after all. “Five
shillings?” she exclaimed. “For coming here to tell me a bit of gossip? That’s
highway robbery!”

“Not
to worry,” Tabitha said quickly. Her gaze slid from her tea to Charlotte and
back again. “I have your payment in full, Vera. Now say what you’ve come to say
and you can leave.”

“After
my lemon tart,” Vera said with a belligerent toss of her head.

“After
your lemon tart,” Tabitha agreed.

Charlotte,
her teeth clenched so hard her jaw ached, said nothing at all.