Page 82 of The Duke of Spice
Robert knitted his brows in feigned confusion. They couldn’t possibly be referring to him, could they? He was a duke; dukesdidn’t steal. And they most certainly didn’t go around holding up wagons and royal mail coaches in the dead of the night.
He cleared his throat. “I shall inform the gentleman responsible for your missing property to cease and desist from liberating any more of it, and to return what goods he still has in his possession.”
They might have won the war, but he wasn’t about to go down on bended knee and lick their boots. There would be no admission of guilt. A man could only take so many blows to his pride.
He nodded to the two other directors. “Good day, gentlemen.”
Making sure that his walk was one of a man who hadn’t a care in the world, Robert headed for the door. A minute later James Ashton met him outside in the anteroom and handed him back his empty satchel. “Let’s get out of here and go find the nearest tavern. It goes without saying that Your Grace is paying.”
Robert’s heart was still racing by the time they made it downstairs and out into Leadenhall Street. His cool, calm facade was close to cracking. He dared not tell James Ashton that he’d lain awake all last night on the verge of being utterly consumed by his fear. By the dread that once he set foot inside East India House, he may never make it out alive again.
He'd only finally and somewhat reluctantly agreed to attend today’s meeting after Victoria had sent word to every titled male relative in her wide family circle, informing them that her husband was visiting at Leadenhall Street today, and that if he didn’t return home by three o’clock, they were to march en masse and demand his immediate release.
Robert walked to the end of the block, then stopped. He sucked in a deep breath. It was over. His part in the secret war against the East India’s monopoly was done.
Now I really am just a spice farmer.
He was surprised to discover that he wasn’t angry. Granted a touch disappointed, but also relieved. It really was over.
And if Victoria was at his side, and they could now look forward to sharing a life of love together, that was more than enough for him. Robert turned to James and offered him a grateful smile.
“Thank you. I owe you a lifelong debt, which I don’t know how I can ever repay.”
James shook his head. “Just stay out of trouble, that’s all the payment I require. I’ve spent twenty odd years with the Honorable East India, and they are not the sort of people to ever forget when they have been crossed. The EIC has a long memory.”
He got the message implied by James Ashton’s words. The war between the Duke of Spice and his archenemy might be officially over, but he should always take care to watch his back.
Robert gave a grim smile. “I understand.” For the rest of his life he would do his best to steer clear of the East India. His only thoughts now were to create a future with Victoria. To keep her safe, and never again know the fear he’d felt that night in the laneway.
Epilogue
Seven months later
Victoria wiped away her tears. The first official wagonload of Tolley Foods had just headed down the long, tree-lined drive bound for London. The new shop in Oxford Street, offering discerning customers all manner of estate-grown spices, preserves, and specialty cured meats, was due to open at the end of the month.
Her sister-in-law, Serafina Kembal, had been generous with her suggestions for the cured meats, promising she would be their best customer if they continued to stock Italian-inspired pork salami. The Duke of Strathmore was going to supply wild boar from his Scottish estate, and Robert intended on mastering the art of curing wild boar meats over the next few months.
“Is the driver and his companion well-armed?” asked Victoria, nodding in the direction of the heavily laden wagon.
Robert slipped an arm about his wife’s waist. He didn’t yet know that in a matter of months he wouldn’t be able to do that, but Victoria was keeping their piece of happy news to herself. Waiting until the time was right.
“They are carrying plenty of weapons. Though apparently there hasn’t been any spice robberies in the past six months. Nor any highwaymen. The blackguard who used to hold up the coaches appears to have gone to ground, but one can’t take any chances,” he replied. The grin on his face was delightful.
Thank god, that is all over.
The deal with the East India Company seemed to be holding. The remaining spices had been returned to them, and there had been no repeat of the incident with the agent. George had even been able to return to London and had taken over management of the new Tolley Foods enterprise. From all reports, his wife was delighted with the news of his change in career. George’s first task had been to visit the Boar’s Head Inn at Bishop’s Stortford and retrieve the passenger manifest for the mail coach which had been robbed a few months earlier. Payments and an apology had been sent to all the victims of the masked highwayman, along with the solemn promise that Mrs. Brown had been safely returned to her husband.
As for Robert, Victoria sensed it would take him a long while to fully come to terms with having lost his personal war against the East India, but she kept those thoughts to herself. If and when he wanted to talk about what had happened, she would be here for him.
And he was here for her. Robert’s warm kiss on her cheek had Victoria stirring from her daydream. “Well?”
“Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
“I was asking if you had finished writing that piece on the need for restaurants to change the oil in their pots on a more regular basis.”
Victoria rested her head against Robert’s chest and gently sighed. “Yes, I have, it’s ready to go into the book. I think it’s important that people understand how tainted oil impacts the taste of the food.”
She had been writing a piece about the careful treatment of condiments and oils which would go into their new travel guide for London food. Her scrapbook of Robert’s newspaper reviews along with her own notes, had formed the basis of their soon to be published first book.
