The Reluctant Duchess Read online

  “If you’re sure, Ma’am.”

  “I am. Now I just want to drink my tea in peace and rest assured, I’ll be back out before the evening crowd comes in.”

  “What about the deliveries?”

  “Oh…” Being around men almost all day had introduced her to a few expletives, but she bit her exclamation back and checked her pocket watch. She sighed as she realised that her break would have to wait.

  “I’ll go now.”

  “Frank volunteered to do the round, if it helps.”

  “He doesn’t mind doing it?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Then thank him for me. I’ll watch the cauldron for him when I’ve had my tea.”

  Ethel curtseyed and left.

  Annabelle went to pour her tea and felt her right palm sting as she flexed it, a reminder of the earlier slap. She ignored the slight pain and pondered the situation.

  She had spotted him as soon as she came out of the kitchen and had felt attracted to him. She should have ignored him and left Minnie to serve him, but she made a point to try and greet all customers when she was able. He was a first time customer too, so that made it doubly important that she greet him. Her notoriety was one of the coffee house’s selling points, people wanted to meet the Marquess’ daughter who had dared to enter trade.

  It hadn’t always been so. First she had opened a tea room, hoping to attract women and couples but seemingly, women didn’t like her reduced status and avoided the place like the plague. Perhaps they thought that her bad luck would wear off onto them, or perhaps she was an uncomfortable reminder that in the eyes of the law, they were not people and under the right circumstances, they could be left as destitute as she was.

  Either way, after three months with only a few male customers, she had decided to rebrand the tea room as a coffee house. Trade had increased almost immediately and being so close to Westminster Palace, she found herself attracting politicians. Now it was almost exclusively Whigs who frequented her establishment. They even held party meetings and debates there on occasion.

  She had worked too hard and for too long to give this up now, no matter how handsome the Duke was. Love was a myth anyway, nothing more than a fairy tale that they spun to young girls, to ensure that they would marry young and remain ignorant until after the wedding.

  Annabelle simply didn’t have time for fairy tales these days.

  Richard’s glower ensured that even in the busy thoroughfare of Piccadilly, people cleared a path for him. He could have hailed a cab to take him home but he felt that he needed the walk to clear his head. However, he spent most of his walk counting off Miss Wyatt’s bad qualities, so by the time he arrived at number 4 St James Square, he was still in a frightful mood.

  “Is that you, Richard?” he heard his mother, Lady Lavinia Armstrong, call from the rear parlour.

  “It’s me.” He knew that he had little choice but to go and see her. He waved the butler away and removed and hung his own coat, then went to see his mother. She was sitting on the small sofa, embroidering something or other.

  He bent to kiss her cheek and she favoured him with a smile.

  “How was your meeting with Jonathan?” she asked.

  “Aside from some rubbish about joining the Whigs, it was fine.”

  “Well something has upset you,” she said pausing her embroidering to study him. “What happened?”

  “Oh nothing, I just had the misfortune to meet perhaps the most disagreeable woman in London, that’s all.” Richard loosened his cravat and took the armchair next to his mother.

  “Oh?” she put her sampler aside, eager to hear more.

  “It’s nothing,” he repeated, leading Lavinia to believe that it was indeed something. “Just the proprietor of the coffee house we met at, that’s all.”

  “You mean Annabelle?”

  “I didn’t know the two of you were on first name terms,” he said, scowling.

  “I can’t claim that we are close friends but she is a very nice woman. In fact I first met her when she was 11 and your father and I were staying with the family. We did not much care for the Marquess but his wife and daughter were a delight. After your father died, she sent me a very nice letter and some of my favourite baked treats. Her cooking is divine, so I often pop in to see her if I want to order something special, for a dinner party or such. She’s always been very gracious to me.”

  Richard harrumphed.

  “So, what did she do that was so awful?” Lavinia asked, picking up her sewing again. Given Annabelle’s beauty and reputation for refusing suitors, she could guess what had happened, but she did her best to hide her smile, although it wasn’t easy.

  “Oh, nothing really. I tried to apologise for using her title when I addressed her and she reacted with anger. Odd woman.”

  “Try not to be too hard on her, darling, from what I understand, life has not been kind to her.”

  “What do you mean, ‘not been kind’?”

  “Well I’m sure Jonathan told you about her father dying and her awful brother but what is less known, is the state of her mother. Quite insane, I hear. In fact, she doesn’t leave the house any longer.”

  “How did you hear this?” Richard asked sitting forward.

  “We share a doctor. It must be, oh, three years ago now, Dr Medway came to see me for a bout of influenza and he was sporting a fresh black eye. Naturally I asked him about it and he confided to me that the elder Lady Wyatt had given it to him earlier that day. She is prone to wild fits of anger, so he says, and frequently has to be restrained. She needs constant care and he attends the house three times a week to bleed her. Sometimes more if she has harmed herself or others in her anger. Since then I have spoken to Annabelle about it on occasion and whilst she played the illness down, she did confirm what the doctor had told me.”

  Richard could vividly remember meeting his maternal grandfather, George, on occasion and how unsettled he had been by the man’s insanity.

  “I wonder that she can afford a physician’s services; surely it would be cheaper for a barber or surgeon to attend?”

  “I believe, like many of us, she wants the best for someone she cares for. Would you send me to a barber to save money?”

  “Of course not but we do not live on the small profits of a coffee house. It’s sheer recklessness, is what it is.”

  “I wonder that you let the expenses of someone who you have only met today, upset you so.” Lavinia said with a smile.

  Richard scowled but didn’t reply.

  Annabelle arrived at her home in Conduit Street at just after eight o’clock that evening, more than ready to head straight to bed but instead she headed to her mother’s rooms and knocked softly. A moment later the door opened slowly and Bessie Jones slipped out into the hall.

  “How is she today, Jones?” Annabelle whispered.

  “Not too bad, Ma’am. The doctor let her blood this afternoon and she’s been mostly docile ever since.”

  “Has she eaten?”

  “She has, a little lunch and some afternoon tea. Then I read to her until she dozed off.”

  Annabelle looked at her mother’s bedroom door with longing, wishing that she was the woman that Annabelle remembered from her childhood but sadly, that woman was long gone. In her place was an ill-tempered, irascible and irrational woman, who disliked everyone but especially Annabelle. If she went inside now, she wouldn’t receive the warm welcome that she wanted and longed for and she had learned her lesson long ago; it was better not to even try.

  She looked to Bessie, who had dark smudges under her eyes.

  “I’ll have the kitchen send up her hot milk. Add the Laudanum to it and once she’s asleep, take the rest of the night off, Jones.”

  “Oh no Ma’am-“

  “Hush. You are good to care so much for my mother, but you must take care of yourself also.”

  She could see that Bessie was wavering, clearly feeling the exhaustion herself.

  “Why don’t you
share dinner with me in the study this evening? I could use the company.”

  Although she acted as nursemaid now, Jones was officially the Dowager Marchioness’s lady’s maid, the highest ranking servant currently employed in the house, and the only one who was comfortable sharing dinner with her mistress. Annabelle may consider herself a commoner these days but to her staff, she was still Lady Wyatt and no matter how much they respected her, they could never feel completely comfortable in her presence.

  “I’d like that.” Jones smiled.

  Annabelle headed downstairs to tell the kitchen maid.

  Annabelle’s staff consisted of Jones, Sal, the house maid and Ruth, the kitchen maid. Since the house was woefully understaffed, the staff from the coffee house also lived here. It worked very well since they got accommodation for free, meaning that Annabelle could pay them a slightly lower wage. As well as her current household staff, Minnie, Ethel and Frank had all worked as servants for Annabelle’s parents and as such, were happy to help out in the house if needed.

  When Annabelle’s father had died the staff had been faced with a choice; to stay with the new Marquess, or to leave with Annabelle and Eveline, her mother. Although the elder Lady Wyatt was no longer herself, the staff still felt loyal to her but Lady Annabelle had been so young that many of them were frightened to follow a young girl, especially one with no marriage prospects on the horizon.

  Annabelle made her way into the study and sat behind the desk to open the day’s mail. Thankfully being summer, it was still light and she didn’t need to light a candle. There was her weekly bill from the baker, the grocer and the butcher. All she seemed to get these days was bills.

  Still, she would be more than able to cover her expenses, if it weren’t for her mother’s physicianbills. She couldn’t blame her mother though; no matter how hurtful her behaviour, it wasn’t her fault.

  Dr Medway had suggested putting her in an asylum but Annabelle couldn’t do that. She had researched charitable institutions and she simply couldn’t allow her mother to go to a place that accepted paupers; the treatment was simply too inhumane and unsafe. The private asylums seemed acceptable but they cost more than Dr Medway’s services.

  Once again, she cursed her father. It didn’t matter what doctors said about ‘hot blood’ and the ‘heat of madness’ she knew that her mother’s condition was his fault. Now he had died without leaving any provision for his wife, and Annabelle was having to work every hour that God sent to try keep a roof over their heads.

  Jones was a Godsend. She had been Eveline’s lady’s maid since her mother was 15 and Jones was just 14. They had been more than just mistress and servant though and over the years, a friendship of sorts and a deep loyalty had formed between them. Were Jones not willing to care for her mother, Annabelle would have to pay at least two nurses. What's more, she used the time when Eveline was sleeping (which between the bloodletting and laudanum, was often) to keep Annabelle’s wardrobe up to date.

  Annabelle hadn’t bought a new gown since she’d opened the coffee house but Jones used her many talents to update her wardrobe, carefully altering and adding to her dresses to keep up with fashion. She stayed clear of the modern penchant for wide gigot type sleeves, as they could be a hazard in the kitchen. She also didn’t wear as many petticoats as was the fashion, because that made manoeuvring between the tables difficult.

  Annabelle set the bills aside for now, intending to deal with them on Sunday and poured herself a small brandy. Her one indulgence was a brandy when she got home.

  She sat in one of the armchairs beside the fire and tried to relax. Unfortunately now that her mind wasn’t occupied, the first thing that came to mind was Richard Armstrong, and that slightly startled look that he wore when she had first approached his table.

  She cursed herself and her weak mind, but the memory was so pleasant that she was unwilling to distract herself. Then, unbidden, the memory of his kiss came to the forefront of her mind. She had enjoyed it and a part of her felt awful for slapping him, but she couldn’t afford to lose her head now. Winter wasn’t far off and last year, she had needed to pawn a necklace to cover the additional heating costs for the house. She didn’t have much jewellery of any value left now.

  Her hand went to her throat and she clasped the sapphire pendant that sat there. This was the only piece of real value now but she was loathe to part with it. It had been a present from her parents on her 14th birthday, although she knew that her mother had chosen it. ‘It reminded me of your eyes,’ her mother had said with pride as she placed it around her neck.

  Not long after that, the mother that she knew was gone forever, and in her place was the deranged shrew that lived upstairs.

  She was surprised to find herself voluntarily thinking of Richard Armstrong in an attempt to clear her mind of such unpleasant thoughts. The first thing that came to her was his lips and how soft they had felt when pressed against her own. She had wanted to kiss him, she admitted, and her reaction afterwards had been overzealous and uncalled for. She would apologise the next time she saw him, she decided.

  Before she could indulge too much in that madness, Jones knocked on the door and came in.

  Annabelle didn’t think of Richard again until she got into bed that evening and by then, she told herself that she was far too tired to redirect her thoughts and allowed herself a momentary indulgence.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning Annabelle rose at seven, as usual. Her morning routine was long established and she began by washing in the jug and basin that had been left in her room last night. Then she carefully washed her hair over the small basin, rinsing it with the rest of the water from the jug, before gently picking through the tangle of curls. She then towelled out all the water that she could and combed it into a centre parting.

  Most young ladies only washed their hair once or very occasionally, twice a week but Annabelle didn’t have that luxury. Most people loved her curly hair but then they didn’t have to live with it. She couldn’t brush it without it resembling a wild and thorny bush and if she didn’t brush it, she was left with terrible knots. The only solution was to at least wet the hair each morning, pick the tangles out and leave it to dry.

  When she was finished, Jones knocked and then helped her into her dress for the day.

  With that done she headed downstairs and out into the carriage, which was waiting outside; she rarely ate breakfast these days and if she did get hungry, she could find something at the coffee house. Since the carriage was enclosed, she didn’t bother with a bonnet.

  When he worked for her father, Frank had been a groom and now part of his job was to see to the horse at the local stables each morning and night, as well as driving the staff to and from the coffee house. He was also charged with the horse’s care throughout the day, although it remained in the yard behind the coffee house and wasn’t stabled in the daytime.

  Minnie was already in the carriage but as usual, Ethel was running late and she flew out of the house and into the carriage, holding her untied bonnet to her head. As soon as she was in, Frank urged the horse forward.

  When they arrived at the coffee house, Annabelle put on her apron to protect her gown as she cooked, whilst Frank and Minnie saw to the fire the main room and Ethel began to clear and light the large kitchen stove.

  This was Annabelle’s favourite part of the day, creating the coffee house’s baked treats. The front of house would open soon to serve those who needed a coffee on their way to work, or who perhaps wanted to hold an informal business meeting. Food wasn’t served until at least 10 o’clock and savoury food wouldn’t be served until noon. Annabelle first made the bread dough and left it to rise, then moved onto the cake mixtures. By the time they were finished, the cast iron stove was up to temperature and the cake trays began to go in the ovens, one on each side of the stove.

  Ethel then had charge of watching those whilst she washed the dirty dishes and Annabelle began preparing the lunchtime and dinner stews. Eth
el wasn’t the brightest or the smartest girl but she was willing, a hard worker and of a generally happy disposition.

  Annabelle remained in the kitchen until the lunch stew was simmering on the stove top and all the cakes were cooked and cooling on their trays (just in case Ethel was a little absent minded and forgot to take them out). Annabelle then removed her apron, pinned up her now dry hair and headed through to the front of house for a few moments.

  She greeted those who weren’t engrossed in conversation and was a little perplexed to find herself disappointed that Richard Armstrong wasn’t there. She had no reason to expect him in this early, if she ever saw him again at all, in fact. He had only come in once to meet a friend and given her treatment of him, she wouldn’t blame him if he never returned. Before she headed back into the kitchen, she asked Minnie and Frank to send His Grace, Richard Armstrong, back to see her if he should come in. Having been in service since they were children, they didn’t ask why.

  She then tried to put him out of her mind as she began fashioning the bread dough into loaves which she placed in the ovens. Next came her favourite part of baking, frosting the cakes. She sat down at the table and began to hum as she worked, which wasn’t unusual, so she didn’t think anything of it when the kitchen door opened. She looked up a few moments later to see Richard Armstrong’s penetrating gaze upon her.

  “I’m sorry, forgive me, I didn’t realise you were there.” She felt flustered as she stood up.

  “Don’t worry on my account, I was enjoying the rendition. The Lady of the Lake, no? Elena’s first song?”

  “Yes, quite.” Elena singing about her one true love, Annabelle suddenly recalled. What an awful song choice. “Um…”

  “You wanted to see me?” he asked with a smile, seemingly enjoying her disquiet.

  “Yes, that right. Uh, shall we talk in my office?” she said as she noticed Ethel’s interest in their conversation.

  “That suits me.”

  He was altogether too smug for Annabelle’s tastes and her desire to apologise for her behaviour yesterday was rapidly dwindling. Then she remembered that he would probably quite like to get her on her own again.