Free The Duke's Tattoo: A Regency Romance of Love and Revenge, Though Not in That Order by Miranda Davis Page A

Haversham’s personal Waterloo was only a few days away.

Chapter 9
In which Sir Oswald sells our heroine out of house and home and apothecary shop.
    B y June of 1816, after nearly a year without consequence, the dark cloud of dread hovering over Prudence Haversham finally dissipated. She considered herself extremely lucky to have painlessly learned her lesson about giving in to ill-conceived, hoydenish impulses. She smiled when Mrs. Mason handed her the letter; letters were a rare treat. She recognized the handwriting. Her brother, Sir Oswald Dabney of Treadwater, had written. New storm clouds brewed on her horizon. He began with a disquieting effusion:
     
Dearest Sister,
We have delightful news! A most respectable gentleman approached us regarding the building on Trim Street. We were intrigued
. (Sir Oswald had taken to referring to himself as ‘we’ in correspondence and conversation since becoming baronet.)
He represents a person whose identity the gentleman is not at liberty to reveal. This anonymous party finds the Trim Street building desirable for reasons to which we are not privy. We are confident “Anonymous” is a peer of distinction; otherwise such discretion would be unnecessary. It is most gratifying.
How could we refuse such an august person his heart’s desire?
The price offered was most generous. An offer our own dear father himself would doubtless approve if he yet lived. Margot and I believe some small portion of the proceeds could be used to supplement the income you already receive.
At the buyer’s insistence, the cottage on Henrietta Street will also convey with the Trim Street property. If you wish to lease the cottage, we are more than willing to request first right of refusal on your behalf.
Failing that, we understand Bath has a surfeit of suitable rooms to let. You may retain the services of Mrs. Mason by making the proper economies.
We hope this letter finds you in good health.
Best wishes, your affectionate brother, etc.
     
    She read the letter twice. How had Oswald forgotten his promise!
    After the house party dust up, Sir Oswald had said that if she left quietly, she could have the cottage and apothecary shop as they were of no earthly use to him. He settled a sum for her living from the money Father intended as her dowry because ‘there would be little use for it now.’ He further told Prudence to live simply ‘after all no one expected an unmarried female to have anything but a modest household.’ It would be a quiet life ‘safe from social stigma but your just deserts’ as his wife, Margot, had assured her.
    At nearly 17 years old, Sir Oswald blithely consigned Prudence to the social exile of spinsterhood. At the time, she submitted meekly. Not so now.
     
Sir Oswald,
(she wrote carefully after splitting several quills in her fury)
,
As you will recall, you pledged the cottage and the Trim Street building to me when you directed me to return home to Bathwick.
What’s more, the income produced from the money intended for my dowry does not now support me, or my two-person staff. I depend upon income from the apothecary and fees paid by Mr. Smithson, Esq., the solicitor who leases the upstairs rooms at No. 3 Trim Street.
Any portion you provide me from a sale will in no way compensate for the loss of my home and my herbal gardens, which are essential to my medicinal products and therefore my livelihood.
Surely this ‘important personage’ can find any number of other commercial buildings and tiny cottages in Bath to meet his mysterious needs. It’s a small matter to him but a great hardship to me.
Prudence
     
    To her letter, Prudence received a reply one week later from Sir Oswald’s sour wife:
     
Prudence,
Sir Oswald has pledged to sell the Trim Street building and the cottage and, as you know, a gentleman does not go back upon his word. As I recall, he gave you use of the properties, never deed of ownership.
I suggest you make use of this time to prepare to relocate. Sir