Page 9 of Beware A Wallflower's Wrath
“Weel, it’s my roof too, and it was just a wee swallow.” Then he grinned and kissed his mother on the cheek. “Save yer grumblings for something important. Ye shouldna be marring that lovely face with a scowl.”
They all laughed, knowing Fin had learned such buttery talk from Colin. It hit her again how quickly the last fifteen years had passed. What would the next fifteen bring?
CHAPTER 3
Late May 1820
Glasgow, Scotland
Robert had hired a Bow Street Runner to find Annis, then waited the appropriate year of mourning before traveling to Glasgow. If the information was correct, Annis was now a widow with one child, a son. Mrs. Porter was the owner of Books and Bits on Alton Street. It had been her dream, and he was happy for her.
He pulled back the rein on his black gelding. “Well, Ink, looks like we’ve made it.” The Tontine Hotel at the Trongate was part of a grand three-story building, with pedimented windows and a street-level arcade. Robert peered up at the gruesome carvings placed at the keystone of each arch, the “Tontine Heads” as the locals called them. At the end of the block was Glasgow Cross, where the Tolbooth Steeple rose above its neighbors.
It was midafternoon, and he hadn’t eaten since leaving the inn early that morning. A lad from the livery took Ink, and Robert paid for a room. After settling in, he went to the coffee house and had a strong cup and a light meal. He was stalling. The thought of seeing Annis was both exhilarating and terrifying. Would she smile? Cry? Berate him? The worst possibility was that she’d forgotten him. After sending for his horse and paying for his meal, the time had come. His future would be decided in the next hour.
“Could you direct me toward Alston?” he asked the boy who brought his horse.
“Aye, sir. Stay on Trongate, pass Argyle and Union, and Alston will be on yer right.”
“Thank you,” he said as he tossed the boy a coin.
Alston was filled with carriages and carts, riders and peddlers. He found Books and Bits near the end of the street on his right. It was a nice three-story building of pale stone, and he swallowed hard, thinking of her inside. What did she look like now? Did she have a beau? By the time he dismounted, two boys were waiting eagerly to take the rein. Handing off Ink to the tallest boy, he put a finger in his cravat and pulled hard to take in a deep breath. It was a warm day, and the sun was still shining high in the sky. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and strode with purpose to the door of the shop.
A bell tinkled as he pushed the knob, and he entered a delightful place. The scent of tea and lemon and peppermint almost hid the faint musty smell of books. He looked up, gazing at the two levels of tomes, and knew his Annis belonged here. Was happy here.
His Annis. What arrogance from a man who had proposed and then deserted her. He walked through the shop, looking for her or a clerk or anyone who could answer his question.
“May I help ye?” A plump woman with grayish auburn hair stood near a table, collecting teacups and a tray. She turned to him with curious soft-brown eyes and smiled, revealing dimples. He assumed she’d been a beauty in her day.
“I’m looking for Mrs. Porter.” He belatedly removed his beaver hat and fumbled it between his fingers. “Might she be here?”
“Och, I’m sorry to tell ye she’s left.” The woman picked up the tray and headed toward the back of the shop. “Are ye needing something in particular?”
“No,” he said, his chest heavy with disappointment. “I was hoping to see her, er, Mrs. Porter.”
“Weel, I’m Mrs. Douglas. Just give a shout if ye need me or find anything to yer liking.” The woman disappeared down a short, narrow hall.
Mrs. Douglas. Aileen. She had owned the shop where Annis had worked. Robert ambled along the shelves, observing titles of the book spines and other wares for sale. He smiled at the display of sweets, remembering how Annis had loved them.
When Mrs. Douglas returned, he approached her with his most disarming smile. “Pardon me, ma’am. Could you tell me when Mrs. Porter might return? I’ve travelled quite a distance to see her.”
“She’s gone home to Dunderave to celebrate the summer solstice.” Her gaze pierced his, the brown eyes narrowing as she took him in from head to toe. “And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”
“Lord Robert Harding.” He swallowed again.
“Mercy!” she declared and sank into a nearby chair. She picked up a copy of the Glasgow Herald and began fanning herself. “Ye’re Annis’s Rabbie.”
It wasn’t a question. “Yes, ma’am. I need to speak with her.”
“Humdudgeon! After all this time, ye need to speak with her now?” Mrs. Douglas shook her head. “Where was that audacity when ye left her?”
“I’ve been asking myself the same thing.” He was crushing the rim of his hat, and sweat began a slow trail down his spine. “Please, help me.”
“Humdudgeon,” she declared again, then let out a long sigh. “Help me, he says. Do ye ken what ye put her through?”
Robert shook his head. “But I never stopped loving her.”
The older woman rolled her eyes. “Weel, that’s a pretty sentiment. Did ye try to contact her at all? Ever?”
