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On the other hand, she only held power through the Hawthorne name. She managed households and business affairs, and by God, she was good at it. If the duke returned, did it mean that his duchess would have nothing left of her own?
Anne gripped her teacup and willed the warmth to seep into her ice-cold fingers. There was no choice. It was going to be a long, bitter winter in the heart of London. But she had endured worse for duty. If Hawthorne was staying, then so would she. The fire burned brightly with the added coals, and she moved closer to its flames.
If the duke wished to wage war, then he could have chosen no better enemy than the woman he had abandoned.
Hawthorne was sorely mistaken if he thought that his wife would be biddable.
* * *
Miss Letitia Barrow fixed the merchant with a gimlet eye. “Youlostmy marbles?”
“I wouldn’t say that they’ve been lost, exactly. The ship sank—and all the cargo aboard was destroyed. It’s a sad state of affairs.” Mr. Bridge gave a deep sigh and raised his eyes heavenward.
She thought of the Italian marble tiles, deep veins of gold and pink swirled into eggshell white stone, meant to grace the front hall of Judge Peterson’s quarters. Now they were scattered in the deep silt of the Thames, visible to the fish instead of the judge’s dinner guests. She could well imagine the judge’s face when she told him the news. It wasn’t the first time that something had not gone according to plan on his renovation.
But this wasn’t adding up. “I didn’t hear of any cargo ships sinking.”
“Miss Barrow, a woman such as yourself cannot be expected to know all the comings and goings at the ports.” He smiled at her. Placatingly.
Letty didn’t return the smile. “I do, in fact, keep abreast of them. I order so many goods from the Continent that I am quite aware of everything related to importing. Customs documentations. Tariffs and fees. I even arrange the wagons to pick up the cargo and move it to the establishments that I renovate. No, Mr. Bridge. This is too smoky by half.”
He blinked. “I beg your pardon, madam, but this changes nothing. The marble is gone.”
“Gone? Or resold to a higher bidder?”
“We would never do such a thing,” he spluttered. “This is a reputable firm. We provide marble, granite, and limestone to all the best establishments.”
“Except to women who pay up-front, and thus allow you to get away with fraud?”
Too late, Letty saw her mistake. Hell and the devil, she should have made a down payment instead of risking the money from the start. But the marble was the crowning touch for the foyer’s design. She had bargained and begged this man three months ago to sell it to her—and now she wondered if the tiles had always been promised elsewhere, andshehad been the one to pay the merchant twice for the same goods?
She stood and rapped her silver-tipped walking stick on the floor. “You will be hearing from my solicitor, sir. Good day.”
She inhaled the crisp scent of autumn leaves as she crossed the street to hail a hackney cab, the air fresh on her face. The work for the judge was almost complete. All she needed to do was arrange workers to lay the tiles, and she already had a crew lined up for the days that she needed them. Then the new furniture would be placed and polished, the room would be scoured clean, and the job would be done.
But if she didn’t have the marble, she would have to cancel the job with the tilers. She would owe at least partial wages to the crew, as they wouldn’t be able to find other work on short notice. Letty winced. The budget she had been given to finish the job was fast dwindling. More importantly, she couldn’t risk this blow to her reputation. It was already difficult for a woman to succeed in any sort of design work. It would be disastrous if she became known for canceling work, or for being unreliable with product that she had promised to provide.
Or if merchants thought that she was easy to fool. She clenched her fingers around her walking stick as if it were Mr. Bridge’s scrawny neck.
Letty shoved her key into the door beside the entrance of a furniture shop and went up the narrow stairs. She marched into her suite of rented rooms and hung up her hat and stick on the hooks by the door. She slapped her hand onto the wood table by the front window, where her solicitor-in-training son was making himself a sandwich.
“Robert Barrow, is that the ham that ought to be for dinner?”
He grinned with all the impishness of a twenty-two-year-old man who was still half a boy in his mother’s eyes. “I just took a little piece, Mum. Growing lad and all that, right?” He ducked as she tried to rumple his hair. “Hey now, I’ve an appointment in twenty minutes and it took me twice that to fix my hair.” He darted to the corner of the kitchen and took a hearty bite of his sandwich.
“After your appointment, I have another that you must tend to.” Letty glowered. “A marble merchant is trying to cheat me. It’s forthe job I have for Judge Peterson. I told him he would be hearing from you.”
Robert’s mouth screwed to one side. “Mum, I’ve told you. No one is going to listen to a lowly clerk like me. Besides, I must stay late at the office to prepare documents for Mr. Selkirk. If I am to have any hope of apprenticing with him, I must be above reproach. And so mustyou. He is such a stickler that any transgression would be reason for him to choose another man as apprentice. Neither of us can get involved in petty squabbles, much less for the judge’s office!” He looked stricken.
“There are other solicitors, Robert. You act as if Mr. Selkirk holds the keys to the kingdom, yet he is but one professional man. In all of London, I might add. Look around at our own neighborhood. Holborn is teeming with opportunities for a bright, responsible boy such as yourself. Any of the men in Chancery should be delighted to have you under their wing.”
“It doesn’t work like that, Mum.” He rolled his eyes up to the rafters. “Mr. Selkirk is one of the few willing to overlook the circumstances of my birth. To make up for that flaw, I must be impeccable in every other way.”
“That isn’t fair,” Letty said, but she knew it was the truth.
“I wish you had told people that you and my father had been married.” His voice was quiet, and he shoved another bite of ham in his mouth as if to prevent himself from speaking further.
She thought of Robert’s father. “That wasn’t possible. Besides, I am not ashamed of what happened. Not when it gave me the gift of you.”
