The Conundrum of a Clerk Read online

  The Conundrum of a Clerk

  Linda Rae Sande

  Contents

  Also by Linda Rae Sande

  1. A Visitor to a Viscount’s Bedchamber

  2. A Visitor to a Viscount’s Apartments

  3. A Spy Returns to London

  4. A Meddling Owner on a Mission

  5. An Application is Discovered

  6. Interrupted

  7. Meeting a Stepmother for the Very First Time

  8. Visitors Bring Good News

  9. A Surprise is Revealed

  10. Confession is Such a Relief

  11. An Interview Goes from Awry to All Right

  12. A Newly Rich Man

  13. Sharing Good News

  14. Asking for Advice

  15. A Meeting of the Minds

  16. Tea with a Side of Art

  17. Life After a Baby

  18. A New Member of the Club

  19. Lining Up Some Dance Partners

  20. Tea with the Owner and a Side of Drama

  21. Tea with a Rebel

  22. Quotes are Discovered

  23. Dinner at Ariley Place

  24. A Confession Over Brandy

  25. A Man in Need of a Mistress—or a Backbone

  26. A Pirate from the Past

  27. Interview with a Runaway Groom

  28. Dancing Can Be a Disaster—or Not

  29. A Visit from the Owner

  30. A Visit from a Very Sorry Man

  31. Tea Time at Bostwick Place

  32. A Night at the Theatre

  33. A Best Friend Contemplates a Couple

  34. A Night of Wonder

  35. An Attempt at Reconciliation

  36. Clearing Up a Misunderstanding

  37. Inattentive Witnesses to a Wedding

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Also by Linda Rae Sande

  About the Author

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

  The Conundrum of a Clerk

  ISBN: 978-1-946271-13-6

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2018 Linda Rae Sande

  V1.0

  Cover photograph © Period Images

  Cover art by Justin Phillips, Yellowstone Graphics

  Edited by Katrina Teele Fair

  All rights reserved - used with permission.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  To a great team—Sara V., Kate O., Barbara R., Virginia S., and Jaylene S.—all my thanks!

  Also by Linda Rae Sande

  The Daughters of the Aristocracy

  The Kiss of a Viscount

  The Grace of a Duke

  The Seduction of an Earl

  The Sons of the Aristocracy

  Tuesday Nights

  The Widowed Countess

  My Fair Groom

  The Sisters of the Aristocracy

  The Tale of Two Barons

  The Passion of a Marquess

  The Desire of a Lady

  The Brothers of the Aristocracy

  The Love of a Rake

  The Caress of a Commander

  The Epiphany of an Explorer

  The Widows of the Aristocracy

  The Gossip of an Earl

  The Enigma of a Widow

  The Secrets of a Viscount

  The Widowers of the Aristocracy

  The Dream of a Duchess

  The Vision of a Viscountess

  The Conundrum of a Clerk

  The Cousins of the Aristocracy

  The Promise of a Gentleman

  The Pride of a Gentleman

  The Holidays of the Aristocracy

  The Christmas of a Countess

  Chapter 1

  A Visitor to a Viscount’s Bedchamber

  May 31, 1818, Bostwick House in Mayfair

  The sounds of a dying fire and the faraway footfalls of servants pulled George from a blissful sleep. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He was dreaming his wife was kissing him as his children played nearby. Their giggles had him grinning when the kiss ended. When he turned to discover just what had them making such happy sounds, he found several had lined up on the lawn and were peeking at him from between fingers held over their eyes.

  Having been caught kissing their mother, Elizabeth, George turned in their direction and gave a deep bow, which resulted in another round of giggles before the children ran off and continued their play.

  Despite their happiness, George frowned in his semi-conscious state. He had only fathered two babes—at least, so far—and his children were too young to be running about as these children were doing. His son, David, was only two, and his daughter, Charlotte, was barely a month old, so he knew he was dreaming. But the niggling feeling that something—or someone—was watching him finally had him opening his eyes.

  A pair of round, blue eyes rimmed in dark gray and topped by long, curled lashes stared at him. The hair above the lashes was dark and curled in a haphazard fashion, and two chubby fists gripped the edge of the bed linens where they dropped over the edge of the bed. The eyes lit up in delight, and incomprehensible words came tumbling out of a mouth hidden from George’s view.

  “Well, good morning,” George murmured, a smile lighting his own face before he realized two things at once.

  His son, David, was in his bedchamber.

  For his son to be in his bedchamber meant the toddler had learned to work a door handle. “You escaped from the nursery, didn’t you?” George whispered. At any moment, he expected hurried footfalls to come from the hall as the nurse, Mrs. Foster, raced about in search of the heir to the Bostwick viscountcy.

  From behind him, his wife, Elizabeth, stirred and was soon turned so her front was pressed against his back. “Who are you talking to?” she mumbled, before she had an elbow beneath her torso and could see over George’s shoulder.

  The toddler let out an excited shriek at the sight of his mother, and he let go his grip on the edge of the bed in favor of lifting his arms in the air in anticipation of being lifted onto the bed. George did the honors, snaking an arm beneath the gown-clad boy’s bottom and pulling him up and onto his body. He rolled to lie on his back as Elizabeth backed up a bit to give him the space, her face betraying the humor she felt at seeing her son in their bedchamber.

  “You know what this means?” she asked, as George settled the boy onto the front of his body.

  “He knows how to open a door,” he replied as he turned his attention to his wife of nearly three years. Her hair, dark auburn curls that matched those of their son, were sleep-tousled and surrounded a face he still found to be the most beautiful in all of England.

  Or at least of those he had paid witness to during his four-and-thirty years.

  Elizabeth blinked, her aquamarine eyes disappearing for a fraction of a second before she said, “It means he knows how to escape the nursery,” she countered with a hint of concern.

  David struggled a bit, his knees bending with his intention of crawling to his mother. George let out an “oof” before he moved to pass the tyke to Elizabeth. “Have a care, David. I haven’t yet fathered my spare heir,” he warned in mock annoyance. But David was already happily atop his mother’s body, his mouth attached t
o a bare breast. “The little bugger!” George added in dismay. “He didn’t even ask!”

  Elizabeth let out a musical laugh, although its sound was nearly swallowed up by the velvet curtains that surrounded the bed on three sides. The open side faced the fireplace and the rest of the bedchamber. “Mrs. Foster is no doubt in a panic,” she scolded her son. “You probably ran off whilst she changed Charlotte’s nappy.” At the mention of a nappy, she felt David’s gown and was relieved to find it was dry. “Right after she changed yours.”

  At the sound of George clearing his throat, Elizabeth turned her attention on him. “What is it?”

  “Charlotte is right here, my sweeting. You brought her to bed with us last night,” he reminded her as he pulled the sleeping infant from the nest of pillows he had created for her when Elizabeth fell asleep nursing her.

  “Oh, I remember now,” Elizabeth replied, giving her daughter a quick glance. “I fed her a few hours ago, I think.”

  George glanced in the direction of the fireplace, stunned to find the hands on the mantle clock showing it was nearly eleven o’clock. “So much for attending church,” he murmured. “I cannot believe I slept so late.”

  Well, he could, actually, given what he and his wife had been doing for most of the night. He had gladly abided the physician’s recommendation that he abstain from sexual congress with his wife until his daughter was a month old, mostly because Elizabeth had exhausted him in that regard for the entire month leading up to Charlotte’s birth.

  With David, she had discovered frequent couplings helped alleviate the aches and pains of pregnancy, so George had happily accommodated her every request then as well as when she was expecting their latest.

  The birth of Charlotte had almost been a relief, for he felt as if he needed as much time to recover as his wife. After a couple of weeks, though, he found his desire had returned along with a need to pleasure his wife.

  Apparently she was of a similar mind a fortnight ago. Having pleasured her in ways not requiring intercourse, George now recalled how Elizabeth had moved atop him and captured his manhood between her engorged breasts. Rubbing him against the velvet-soft skin had him rock-hard and climaxing within a minute. In the blissful aftermath, she had kissed the tip of him and finally settled her head into the small of his shoulder.

  He found her still there the following morning. The very thought of it now had the bed linens tenting halfway down his body. He rather hoped she wouldn’t notice.

  She noticed.

  “George,” Elizabeth said in voice meant to scold. She was grinning, though, when he rolled his eyes and sighed.

  “I cannot help it, my love.” He would have continued to ply her with words of adoration, but a knock sounded at the door.

  Probably someone in search of David, he thought before he inhaled. “What is it?” he called out. Reluctantly, he sat up and reached for his dressing gown. The dark velvet robe had fallen from the bed and was now in a heap on the carpet below. He pulled it on, got up from the bed, and walked around the end of it to find his butler, Elkins, standing just inside the door. The butler’s expression indicated puzzlement.

  “There’s a Mr. Streater calling for you, sir,” Elkins replied, one brow furrowed as his eyes darted about the room.

  George blinked. He expected the butler was helping in the search for David, so word that his friend, Theodore M. Streater, was paying a call came as a surprise. “Does he seem in good spirits?” he asked, wondering if something was amiss. The two fenced at least once a week at Angelo’s Academy, so he figured something must have happened since their last match on the pisté.

  “He does not, sir. ‘Bereft’ is how I would describe him on this day. He, in fact, didn’t expect to find you at home but said he would be willing to wait until you returned. I believe he thinks you are attending church.” The butler glanced around again. “Sir. When I arrived, your door was... open,” he said carefully. “Is there any chance Master David has paid a call?”

  Even though he was concerned at hearing Teddy Streater was “bereft,” George couldn’t help a slight chuckle. “He’s with his mother,” he said in a slightly loud voice, wanting Elizabeth to know her son’s absence from the nursery had indeed been noticed. “Helping himself to an early luncheon. Pray tell, how long has it been since he went missing?”

  Elkins eyes widened a bit. “Oh, no more than ten minutes, I should think. Mrs. Foster is beside herself with worry, though.”

  Ten minutes? “No doubt,” George acknowledged. In that amount of time, the toddler could have visited every room on the first floor, bounced himself down the stairs on his bottom, run to the kitchens, and been back up the two flights of stairs to the nursery. “Please let her know Master David is safe before bringing Mr. Streater here. I should be dressed enough to receive him by then.”

  His eyes darting to one side, Elkins said, “I can return and assist you if you’d like, sir.”

  George shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, but do bring a tea tray, some coffee, and a cup of chocolate for Lady Bostwick.” He gave a nod to Elkins’ quick bow before the butler took his leave. He was on his way back to his bed when Elizabeth appeared from around the curtains.

  “Do you think Mr. Streater has lost his position?” she asked, her face displaying concern. She lifted the sleeping David to her shoulder and settled him there before turning her attention back to George.

  Her husband swallowed, his manhood reacting when her dressing gown briefly opened to reveal her nakedness. “I rather doubt it. When we fenced a few days ago, he said he had been promoted to Head of Clerks at the bank,” George replied as he hurried to gather up some clothes.

  Elizabeth was the reason Teddy had acquired his position as a clerk at the Bank of England. She had begun her charity, Lady E’s ‘Finding Work for the Wounded,’ to assist returning soldiers in their quest for employment, and she had chosen him to be her first client.

  Having lost his right arm during the war, Teddy was deemed unsuitable to return to his old position as a clerk—even though he wrote his numbers with his left hand and could perform all the duties required of the position.

  When Elizabeth learned there was a clerking position open at the Bank of England—the very position he had held until he left for a second stint with the British army—she bribed the bank manager on Teddy’s behalf. As a result of her intervention, Teddy was rehired. A few days later, she saw to it he had a wooden arm he could wear inside the sleeve of his topcoat.

  “You’re welcome to stay and greet Mr. Streater, of course,” George said as he bussed her on the cheek. “Although I would suggest you wear something less... revealing, or I fear I shall require a quick tumble.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Oh!” she said as she used her free hand to grip the edges of her dressing gown together. Then she realized he was teasing, gave him a quelling glance, and passed the sleeping toddler off to George. She hurried off to the dressing room. “Don’t let Mr. Streater leave before I have a chance to see him,” she called out. “Oh, and Charlotte is still sleeping. And although I rather like the little bed you made for her, I put her in the bassinet.”

  George glanced around and finally settled David onto the settee, positioning the boy so he couldn’t roll off. Managing to pull on his breeches, stockings, a pair of boots, and a shirt before the expected knock at the door, George found a waistcoat at the same time he said, “Come!”

  Pulling it on, he remembered Elkins’ comment about his visitor seeming bereft. He schooled his features into a sober expression as he buttoned up the waistcoat and turned to face the opening door.

  Chapter 2

  A Visitor to a Viscount’s Apartments

  A moment later

  Elkins announced his visitor, and Teddy Streater gingerly stepped into the room. His attention was directed to the area where a settee and chairs were set up around the fireplace.

  “Good morning,” George said, not intending to startle his visitor. But Teddy j
umped and immediately turned to regard him with surprise.

  “Damn! I never knew you had such a large... salon?” he half-asked as his gaze swept the long room from left to right. He allowed a low whistle of appreciation before giving his head a shake. From the way he gripped his pocket watch in his good hand and dipped his head, he seemed anxious.

  “Apartment,” George finished for him. “It used to be three rooms before I had the townhouse refurbished,” he explained. “The rooms were entirely too small, though.” Indeed, the number of doors into and between each room—a study, a salon, and a bedchamber—chopped up a space made claustrophobic by dark wall coverings and even darker wood paneling. “Now it’s where I spend time with my family,” he explained as he waved an arm to the fireplace that had at one time heated the salon. “Have a seat. Tea is on the way,” he added as he finished buttoning his waistcoat.

  “I apologize. I hope I didn’t wake you,” Teddy said as he took one of the wingback chairs.

  “You didn’t, actually. My son managed that when he escaped the nursery this morning,” he replied as he pointed over to the settee.

  Teddy’s eyes widened when he spotted the toddler on the settee. “That’s him? I haven’t seen the little bugger since his christening,” he said as he gingerly moved toward the settee. “Got his mother’s hair, he does.”