Delia's Debt Read online

  Delia’s Debt

  By

  Allison West

  ©2016 by Blushing Books® and Allison West

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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  West, Allison

  Delia’s Debt

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-68259-550-3

  Cover Design by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the Author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

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  Table of Contents:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  About Allison West

  Ebook Offer

  Blushing Books Newsletter

  About Blushing Books

  Chapter 1

  Delia Amor despised the man she had been promised to at a young age. Fred Hill, a gambler who was known to frequent the establishments and take women into his bed at all hours of the night. At least that was how the rumors went that drifted from the furthest cities. Fred was known for being promiscuous and had no fears about it considering his hand was promised to Delia. He ruined women’s reputations for no reason other than he could.

  With hair as blonde as gold, he had a knack for attracting the ladies. Had he fathered any children and if he did, would he take a lick of responsibility for them? The mere thought of him naked turned her stomach. She’d much rather douse herself in accelerant and take a match to her precious skin than be forced to marry a man with such disregard for himself or others. The last time she’d seen him had been when they were much younger. His protruding brown eyes and nose with lips so thin they barely seemed visible made him unappealing, and that was before the stories traveled to London. Countless times she argued with her father about the arrangement, insisting she’d be better suited to a man who she’d grown up with. There were plenty of young men who her father knew from his dealings at the shop. Why couldn’t he have promised her hand to one of them? Surely they could have been just as good for her, if not a better suitor.

  It had been well over a decade since the most recent encounter with Fred, but she felt certain that his lack of handsomeness hadn’t changed over the course of ten years. He lacked social polish, shoving his finger so far up his nose that his mother at the time had to slap his hand away, chiding the young boy.

  She’d never forgotten the fear she had of him while they were children, him chasing her around, making her stomach lurch at the mere thought of him putting one of his boogers on her gown or worse her skin! How could she be expected to marry someone so deplorable? She may not have had a large dowry but she could have found a better gentleman on her own, had she been given the time. Instead, her father had insisted that the arrangement had been made and she was to go through with it come summer.

  Well, that wasn’t about to happen if Delia had any say in it. In fact, she’d made up her mind long before her father had insisted the marriage debate had been settled. She’d searched the papers, finding a request for a governess in a household none too far from her home. The job offered board and lodging, along with a small stipend. It would be enough to keep Delia from her father’s clutches when Fred came to find her for marriage. Perhaps her father could give Fred the news, before he troubled himself for a visit to find she’d left to work as a governess.

  Correspondence between her and the gentleman had been short and brief. He was in a rush to hire and she was equally ready to leave. Though she had no experience as a governess, how difficult a task could it be? Surely she could learn the position without too much incident.

  Delia packed her bag and shoved it under the bed to keep the maids from finding it. Her father had to be up for work, which meant opening up his shop and selling fabrics he acquired throughout the region. She tagged along every week in hopes that perhaps she’d meet someone who would steal her away for a few hours and make her feel as though she were the most important person in the world. It hadn’t happened yet and each day that she grew closer to her arranged marriage made her wary that it ever would.

  She rushed down the stairs, skipping breakfast on her way out. She grabbed a cloak to keep warm as the rain had been non-stop for the past week. Spring was supposed to be full of rain showers but the sun had to come out eventual
ly. Perhaps the weather knew her mood and feelings of resentment at the mere thought of marrying Fred.

  Riding to the shop with her father, she helped him prepare to open the store. It was her job to perfect the linens and silks, making sure they hung in the best light and straighten out any that had unraveled on their large spools.

  Delia hated how some people touched each fabric and then refused to buy anything. It was as though they’d dirtied the beautiful linens and silks without a second thought. Her father had warned her constantly to be quiet, please the customers, and handle the change. She’d done well to learn math and used the skill every time she accompanied her father at the store, which made her quite a contender for the position of governess. Her schooling had been done by a governess of her own while she was a young girl into her teens. Beyond her education, her father taught her the skills necessary for haggling, which seemed useful in its own interesting right, she looked forward to testing out in the future, though yet when, she wasn’t sure.

  The trip was quiet from her home to the center of London. The rain ceased on the ride, but puddles had formed proving the weather had been as unpleasant here as at home. Delia stared at a thick blanket of rain clouds as a hint of light brightened the path and their day. The sun had risen though she could not visibly see its beauty. Delia pulled her dark crimson cloak tighter around her gown, in an attempt to keep dry from any puddles that might splash on their way to his store.

  “We are almost there,” her father said, glancing briefly at his daughter by his side, as he steered the coach.

  “I know,” Delia said. She’d ridden with him enough times to take the trail on her own, but her father would never have allowed such a dangerous adventure for her. Though she loved him, she also desired her freedom in a way she could not yet explain. It beckoned to her, calling and tugging at her heartstrings begging for release.

  Arriving at the market before the crowd of shoppers and browsers, they unlocked the store and drew the curtains to entice the wealthy looking for a gown. Dressmakers shopped regularly with Delia’s father, but she knew the high-end silk fabrics were rarely sold and those cost the most for her father to acquire. She didn’t have to see the details of his books to know that if he didn’t sell a few soon, he’d be in desperate trouble to pay his bills. Besides, it certainly didn’t help to have the extra mouth to feed. Delia had insisted to her father about becoming a governess or nanny and to send him money to help for the time being. He had refused to hear such ideas, insisting that she was to marry Fred and that was the end of such a discussion.

  She had once asked her father why she hadn’t married Fred sooner, only to discover that he had still been in school, at university though studying what she didn’t know and quite honestly didn’t care. Did he even graduate? She was not going to marry him. No matter what happened, even if her father disowned her and made her sleep with the pigs, she would find another way to be happy. Just as long as it didn’t involve Fred Hill.

  “Good morning.”

  Delia spun around on her heels, wanting to be polite to the customer. She offered the biggest smile which only seemed to grow naturally as she stared into his pale blue eyes that shined like two gems, sparkling in the sunlight. “Hello.” She was at a loss for words, her breath stolen away momentarily as she felt like a young girl unable to speak properly, her nerves getting the best of her.

  His dark chestnut hair hung low and thick, like a mop that she wanted to lean forward and run her hands through. “May I help you?” she asked, her cheeks reddened as he perused the small shop, glancing at the silks.

  “These are absolutely exquisite,” he said, his fingers roaming over the rich blue fabric with an intricate dark blue design of flowers. “How much for the lot of them?” He gestured to the four rolls of silk hanging on spools.

  “Six pence,” Delia said, her head held high, refusing to show any hint of defeat.

  “I have paid far less for twice the amount of silk, the last time I came to London,” the gentleman said.

  She had trouble not staring at him, the smile grazed her face, but she refused to lower her price. “The price is six pence. Take it or leave.” If he had paid far less, than why wasn’t he doing so now, someplace else?

  “That is quite steep,” he said once again. “Perhaps there is someone else I could speak with? Your husband?”

  Was he trying to negotiate or just merely complain? She didn’t think he would have any trouble paying the cost, considering his well-tailored suit of the highest grade material. His blue eyes sparkled in the morning sunlight. He was quite handsome, though his demeanor had her annoyed.

  “My father is busy at the moment.” Couldn’t the gentleman see him hanging out the linens that were available for purchase? “I am sure you understand and recognize the importance of fine materials,” Delia said. Her father needed the money and she was not going to back down. Six pence was not a bad price for the lot of silk.

  The dark-haired gentleman dug into his pocket and retrieved a shilling, worth far more than the six pence. Turning on her heels, Delia helped stack the fine silks across his arms as she handed him four pence change, shorting him two pence.

  He turned the change in his hand, trying to count the coins with his obstructed view.

  “It is all there,” Delia said and smiled.

  The tips of his fingers ran over the coins in his palm as he attempted to jostle them around, likely intending to count them.

  “What? Do you not trust me?”

  “Quite frankly, no,” he said and shook his head. “Have a good day.” He nodded and turned, heading out of the shop.

  Delia watched him walk away, his back to her. Her father’s store sat positioned near the edge of the market. From the distance she could witness the gentleman speak with his coachman before stepping inside the carriage.

  With his suit and swagger, he struck her as a man who did not belong picking out silks, but ordering his dressmakers to do the shopping. “I will be right back,” Delia said to her father.

  He gave her a strange quizzical look but did not question her reason for leaving. Perhaps he knew better than to thwart the attention of his daughter. He had a shop to run and gorgeous materials for gowns to sell.

  She glanced once over her shoulder, careful to make sure her father was not watching her. The coachman climbed atop his seat, not quite ready to leave yet. They would not be there for long.

  Delia rushed with haste toward the coach, ducking as to not be seen, while she loosened the smallest and most delicate box that had been secured to the top of the trunk. The silks he had bought were wrapped in a large oversized cloth to keep them from getting dirty. There were boxes of items stacked above the silks, but Delia snatched the smallest and easiest box to untangle, careful to keep the ties tight as to not alert anyone of what she had done.

  Calling herself a thief was a bit over the top. She borrowed out of need, not desire, with the intention of returning everything someday. Delia did not bother to think about the practicality of what she had done. Stealing was not something to be ignored. Should her father ever catch wind of her betrayals at the market, he would send her far from Mitcham. She had to be certain that he would never know.

  With the small box in hand, she opened the contents to reveal what lay inside for her. Two small ruby earrings and a necklace that matched glistened even under the thicket of clouds above. Delia slipped the items carefully into her pocket and ditched the box. She knew just when she would need the beautiful set to wear, on her first day as governess.

  * * * * *

  Charles paced the length of the study, his eyes breezing over the list of items that he purchased, making sure nothing else had gone missing.

  “Where are the rubies?” he asked his coachman Frank, who had been the one responsible for tying up all the goods purchased at the market. It was not something Charles did very often, attending the market, but for his daughter, Alice, he wanted to give her the best birthday that he could affor
d. She was worth every shilling that it cost. Charles vowed to give her a present that no one else had picked out. He wanted it to be a gift she would always remember and know he had picked out especially for her.

  “Excuse me?” Frank asked.

  “The small box I gave to you on the second to last stop at the market. There were a pair of ruby earrings and a necklace tucked inside. They were a gift for Alice.” He made no attempt to keep his voice down. Alice was asleep upstairs, far from the study and he did not fear any of the staff relaying the information to her. They knew better than to cross him.

  “I brought everything inside,” Frank said. “I can double check outside, see if perhaps one had fallen on the ground.”

  “You do that,” Charles said, his voice short and curt. He could not very well send the nanny to town, her responsibilities were always with his children. There was the dressmaker and the kitchen staff, but he didn’t think it appropriate for them to pick out a gift for his daughter. They didn’t know her the way he did. Charles was a busy man and returning to London was quite a trip, time he didn’t think he could muster without the girls taking notice.

  He crumpled the slip of paper and tossed it into the wastebasket, annoyed. “When am I supposed to find the time to purchase another gift for her?” His words were for his own benefit, as no one else had joined him in the study. Charles’s fist hit the table, angry that the precious gift had vanished. Had the coachman stolen the rubies himself? They were worth quite a fortune, and considering his salary, it did not seem unreasonable that he might assume they would not be missed. “If those damn rubies are not found, Frank is fired. I will not tolerate a thief in my home!”