Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

T olley House, London

Robert leaned over the washbasin and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the water. A soon to be wedded man stared back at him.

His valet would be here within the hour to give him a close shave and trim his hair, making him perfect and ready for church, but first he wanted to wash. To scrub away the traces of the spices which coated his skin. He and George had been moving crates until the early hours, hiding the evidence of their latest highway haul.

He was getting married.

This was a complication Robert hadn't seen coming, but one he knew he had to handle. Tying Lady Victoria up had been a mistake. Kissing her had been a mistake. Everything about that night had been a mistake, right up until the moment she had fractured in his arms. His name, torn from her lips as she climaxed, was the sort of thing a man could only dream of experiencing with a woman.

While Victoria had waited for him in the kitchen, Robert had dealt with his own sexual needs in the privacy of his bedroom. Only then had his lust-fueled mind finally cleared.

He'd been ready to take her home, put it all down to a moment of temporary insanity, but the second he'd seen Victoria standing next to the open cellar door, he knew his fate was sealed. The only way he could protect himself from this inquisitive young woman was to make her his wife. His duchess.

The conversation he'd had the following afternoon with her father was one he never wished to repeat. Explaining to the duke that he had ruined the man's daughter while at the same time not revealing too many details had taken some carefully chosen words on his part. The Duke of Mowbray wasn't a fool, but he hadn't pressed for more information, instead he had quickly agreed that a marriage between Victoria and the Duke of Saffron Walden was the only way to resolve the matter.

I had to marry at some point; the title must have an heir. Making her my wife solves that problem and in doing so will ensure she keeps quiet.

His bride-to-be was opinionated, dare he say annoying, but there was something about her that had him wanting. Wanting her in his bed, beneath him, sighing with pleasure as he sank his cock deep in her glorious wet heat.

Robert splashed the cold water onto his face. When that wasn't enough, he slapped his cheek hard and muttered, "For heaven's sake man, pull yourself together. It's only your wedding day."

"Oh god, it's my wedding day," whispered Victoria to her reflection in the mirror. By late this morning, she would be the Duchess of Saffron Walden. The Duchess of Spice.

She glanced at the ruby ring on her finger. Robert had arrived at Mowbray House the morning after he had been to see her father and presented Victoria with the ring. It had been his mother's, a beloved family heirloom. And now it was hers.

Their wedding was to be at St. Georges, with a common license. A special license would have afforded a wedding at home, but her mother was insistent on the nuptials taking place in front of a church full of guests, with the wedding breakfast held here at Mowbray House.

Her maternal uncle Ewan Radley, the Duke of Strathmore, had offered them the use of one of the grand ballrooms at Strathmore House, but after Clifford and Anne had fought loudly over that, the duchess had uncharacteristically yielded and agreed to host the reception at home.

In the months since her return from Rome, Lady Anne seemed at pains to not turn every disagreement with her husband into an all-out war. After many years where the family home was often a battleground, peace and quiet was finally settling in.

And now I am leaving. Going to my new home. With my new husband.

"But not yet," whispered Victoria.

She turned to Coco, who was seated on the end of Victoria's bed, and smiled. Along with their mother, her younger sister seemed to be treading carefully these days. In the two weeks since she'd abandoned Victoria at the rear of the Duke of Spice's home, Lady Coco Kembal had been every inch the doting sibling.

Victoria could only hope that the panic Coco had said she'd experienced when she and the viscount returned to the laneway and found her sister gone had been enough to shock some sense into her.

"I'm getting married in a few hours, which means today is my last day of being able to amble across the square to the German bakery. How about we celebrate my last day of freedom with some freshly baked sourdough bread? We can be back before Mama and the modiste arrive to start dressing me," said Victoria.

She was still undecided as to how she felt about this whole marriage business. Everything had happened so quickly, but there was one thing she was certain of—if she was going to face a church full of the haut ton's stony-faced matrons, followed by a three-hour wedding breakfast and an evening ball, she was going to do it with a belly full of hot bread and salted butter.

George was in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea when Robert made his way downstairs a short time later. He held up his hand in greeting. "Morning, Your Grace. Happy wedding day."

Robert furrowed his brows. He'd seen his man of business only a few hours ago and George, along with his wife, was coming to the wedding.

Why is he here?

"Did we have business to conduct this morning?" he asked, racking his brains trying to recall if there was a spice shipment coming.

George pointed at the loaf of bread and pat of butter which sat in front of him on the wooden kitchen table. "We have a problem with the German bakery in Berkeley Square."

He was getting married in a matter of hours—what could be so important about a bloody bakery? Robert sucked in a deep, calming breath. He had been practicing them regularly ever since the afternoon he'd been to see the Duke of Mowbray to ask for Victoria's hand in marriage.

Fortunately George was an intelligent man and could read his master's mood. He cleared his throat. "The German bakery that we have been supplying spices to for well over two years has undergone a sudden change of ownership. Some well-heeled chap recently returned from serving the East India Company in Surat has apparently bought it. Which means we have made our last spice delivery to that shop."

Damn. That's one of our biggest customers.

With the loss of the bakery, he'd have to find somewhere else to offload several barrels of cinnamon and other spices each week. It would also mean the East India had regained their stronghold in what had become his part of the London market.

"We have to make the customers want to go elsewhere."

Robert nodded. "Yes, we can't just sit by and let them take our slice of the market." He thought for a moment. While it was too late to stop the sale, they could still mess with the new owners and rob them of the existing loyal clientele.

What's the best way to get loyal customers to stop buying from the new owner?

In his long efforts to thwart the East India, he'd adopted a simple motto. By all means necessary, legal or otherwise. And if his underhanded competitor thought it could start buying up businesses, that's exactly how he was going to fight.

Dirty.

"George, this is what I want you to do."

When Victoria and Coco arrived at the bakery later that morning, there was an unusually large and surprisingly raucous crowd gathered outside. The sisters exchanged worried glances.

"Is it always like this?" asked Coco.

"No, never. Most mornings there are one or two people in the shop ahead of me, but never people waiting outside," replied Victoria.

A well-dressed, middle-aged couple moved away from the door of the bakery and headed in their direction. From the expressions on their faces and the way they walked, they didn't seem the least bit happy.

When the couple got to where Victoria and Coco were standing, Victoria waved them down. "Pardon me, but what's going on?"

The gentleman motioned toward the bakery. "They are closed. Rumor has it that several customers found pieces of rat in their pies this morning. And a bone in a bun. Can you believe it? The new owners only took over the place this morning, but it seems that things have already gone seriously downhill."

"Yes, we will have to find a new place for our morning sourdough. Such a pity the old owners have left," added his wife.

The disappointed couple continued on their way, leaving Victoria staring after them. There went her hopes for a final sourdough and butter breakfast before she became a duchess.

Was nothing going to remain steadfast in her life?