Page 2 of The Duke of Spice
A few miles further west of London, along a narrow laneway, Robert caught up with the wagon. He and George examined the haul.
It looked to be a good one, and yet another strike against the corrupt monopoly of the East India Company. He took great pleasure in knowing that every single grain of spice he stole from his arch nemesis would eventually form the path which led to its destruction.
The Duke of Spice had been stealing spice from under the EIC’s nose for close to three years, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew his luck would have to eventually run out.
And when it did, and his enemy decided to put real effort into dealing with the pesky problem of shrinkage, the East India would come at him with unrestrained violent force.
But they’ll have to find me first.
Robert finished checking the stolen spices and got back on his horse. “I’ll see you at Tolley House in the morning, George. I’ve got some more work to get completed tonight.”
Leaving George and a couple of his other trusted collaborators with the task of bringing the wagon secretly into London, the Duke of Saffron Walden headed for the main road. He had a stack of parliamentary papers to wade through before midday. But it was the opening line for his restaurant review inthe Morning Heraldnewspaper which concentrated his mind.
“Dear valued reader…”
Chapter One
September 1818
Lady Victoria Kembal loved Thursdays. From the moment she opened her eyes, washed, and dressed, the Duke of Mowbray’s second eldest daughter was a bundle of excitement.
At this hour, on most Thursday mornings, she would already be in the breakfast room, nose deep in the newspaper scanning the columns of the back page. But not this particular morning.
Instead she was seated before the mirror of her dresser, gritting her teeth with barely restrained frustration. Her mother had promised to take her shopping in central London this morning, but only if she agreed to have her long brown hair curled by her maid.
This is insufferable. I need the newspaper, not curling papers. The Morning Herald is waiting for me.
The longer she sat here while Mary worked the papillote iron with care, the greater the number of members of the Kembal household who would have now had the opportunity to read the newspaper. Her father. All three of her brothers. Even a nosey footman or two would have snuck a peek. And not one of themwould have been gentle with the precious pages ofthe Morning Herald.
She’d had enough.
“Mary, could you please go and check to see who is readingthe Morning Herald? And if no one is, would you please bring it back with you.”
Anything to rescue the prized newspaper. Her newspaper.
“Just as soon as I have finished with your hair, Lady Victoria,” replied her maid, picking up another curling paper.
Victoria gritted her teeth once more. What with the papers, and the constant reheating of the curling iron, the whole process had become a long and all too fiddly endeavor. A simple chignon would have seen her out of here well over an hour ago.
She shifted in her seat and got a sharp pinch on the arm for her troubles.
“Ouch, that hurt.”
“Yes, well if I burn you, it will hurt a good deal more. And then Her Grace will be angry with the both of us. So please, Lady Victoria, do sit still. I won’t be much longer.”
Victoria huffed out a breath.
Mama is angry at everyone at the moment. One only has to breathe, and her ire stirs.
She doubted there was a soul in Mowbray House who hadn’t been on the receiving end of the duchess’s temper these past weeks. And everyone in the Kembal family knew why.
Following her return from a lengthy stay in Rome, the duchess was finding it difficult to renter London society. Her absence hadn’t been the cause of her social censure, rather it had been the rumors of her demanding a formal separation from her husband which had seen the matrons of thehaut tonturn their backs on Victoria’s mother.
During the scandal, the eldest of the Kembal offspring, Gideon, had undertaken the long sea journey to Italy and bysome miracle had managed to convince the duchess to return home. All these months later, the duke and duchess were reunited, but it was clear society was yet to forgive Lady Anne for her disgraceful transgression. Any and all manner of unfounded gossip regarding the Duke and Duchess of Mowbray continued to spread quickly among London’s elite.
Resigned to her fate, Victoria rested her hands in her lap. Her Thursday newspaper would have to wait. The last thing she needed was for her mother to be in another foul mood when they left the house.
A long while later, with her hair finally set in beautiful ringlets, Victoria finished dressing and headed at a fast clip for the breakfast room. As she stepped through the door, she noted the usual family members were in attendance this morning.
