Ducal Encounters 01 - At the Duke's Discretion (13 page)

“I am sure I don’t need to remind you how important this is, for us all,” Reece’s master emphasised, standing also. “There will be a healthy bonus for you, if you can see this through smoothly. But, if you fail us,” he added in a tone of great gravitas, “you know what to expect. Allow her to see the stones, but keep them with you until she is ready to set them. Never let them out of your sight—not for any consideration.”

Reece’s hands were shaking as he took the case of stones and sketches from the stranger. His master had not referred to him by name, but he was most definitely a gentleman. He exuded an air of authority that implied he was accustomed to total obedience. He was a little desperate too, unless Reece mistook the matter. Why else would he risk coming here and allowing Reece to see him? All the other commissions had come through his master, and the people behind the scheme−this gentleman, presumably−had taken pains to remain anonymous. It made no sense to abandon caution just because their operation appeared to be reaching its zenith. Reece did not flatter himself the man had done so because Reece had proved himself trustworthy.

Recognising he was being dismissed, Reece bowed to both gentlemen and was greeted in the hallway by Mary, holding his hat and stick and sporting a cheeky grin.

“Later, Mary my love,” Reece said absently, taking his things and leaving the house at a fast pace. He would enjoy a modicum of revenge by going immediately to Miss Brooke, explaining what was required of her, and putting the fear of God into her just in case she decided to do anything foolhardy.

As he strode along, keeping his hand protectively over the pocket containing the diamonds, he only hoped his threats would be sufficient to keep the increasingly contrary young woman in line.

“Magnificent, my dear.” Uncle Charles examined the duchess’s completed suite of jewellery closely through a jeweller’s loupe and smiled at Crista. “The workmanship and the attention to detail is quite exquisite. You have excelled yourself. Your skill now exceeds both your father’s and my own.”

“Oh, Uncle Charles, that is not true.”

“You do not look so very satisfied with the results, Crista. What is it?”

“You know what it is, Uncle.” She sighed. “I can no longer take pride in honest work well executed because my conscience is not clear.”

“Yes, I understand very well.” He sighed. “But don’t be downhearted. At least we are to be released from further obligation once you have set those wretchedly ostentatious diamonds. That will save us the trouble of finding a way out of this situation, and the rest of the family’s safety is guaranteed.”

Crista made an unladylike sound at the back of her throat. “The rest of the family deserve no such consideration.”

“Perhaps not, but even so, we−”

“Besides, how can we be so sure they will keep their word?” Crista paced the length of the workshop, too anguished to sit still; too tired to think coherently. She had been working fourteen hour days to finish this jewellery, and now she had to start on the diamonds for Reece. The mere thought of it was enough to exhaust her. “Besides, I had rather set my heart on exposing them, regardless of the damage it would do to us. Were it not for you, then I would certainly find a way to do precisely that.”

“You must not worry about me, my dear. Instead, I must ask you to promise you will not do anything rash. I think we can assume they will let us be after this because those stones are obviously the best they have. I have certainly never seen their like before.”

“No.” Crista shook her head. “Nor I.”

“They have built up their clientele slowly, teasing them with the distinctive pieces your father made before you took over. They have been careful not to flood the market, but have found someone who wants to flaunt the diamonds and cannot resist. They must know they will be noticed, questions will be asked, and they will be compelled to lie low.”

“Asking questions will not serve since the people behind the scheme are too wily to reveal their identities. It is Reece, or people like us, who will get caught.”

“Yes, but even so−”

“And I still don’t trust them to keep their word. They have given us no reason to believe anything they say.”

“That is true, but what choice do we have?” Uncle Charles spread his hands, palms upward. “Besides, they have promised to return the documents your father signed, and once they do, they will have no further hold over us.”

“Even if they speak the truth, it doesn’t seem right they should get away with what they have done. The jewels we have handled are stolen, Uncle. They belong to someone who must be missing them, and by handling them, even against our will, we have become no better than common criminals ourselves.”

“Ah, Crista. Pray do not fret over that which you cannot mend. Your principles do you credit, my love, but even supposing you decided to expose the scheme, whom would you tell?”

Crista bit her lip in frustration. “Well, there must be someone who would believe me. I am sure the duke would not be at all happy if he knew what was happening beneath his nose here in Shawford.”

“But that would ruin my reputation, lose me the duke’s patronage, and cause more friction between the villages. It is better the duke remains in ignorance rather than have additional problems visited upon him. Besides, it will not be for much longer, and then we can all go back to the way we once were. Or rather I can. You, my dear, will be free to live your own life in whatever way you see fit.”

Perhaps, Crista thought, expelling a slow, frustrated breath, but she would never be at peace with her conscience if the rogues got away with their wicked deeds. “Yes,” she replied. “That is why I have not said anything.”

“I am so sorry you are having to deal with all this at a time when you ought to enjoy being young, my dear. I hold myself responsible.”

“You? Oh, Uncle!” Crista threw her arms around his neck. “You are not culpable. My father’s greed, powered by my mother’s ambitions, are at the root of this problem.”

“Yes, well, it does no good to dwell upon that. Your father paid a high price for his misguided actions.” He patted her hand. “Run along upstairs and rest. It is getting late and you look exhausted. We shall enjoy a quiet dinner together, and then tomorrow afternoon, we have the party to look forward to.”

“I have decided not to go, Uncle. There is too much for me to do here.”

Uncle Charles fixed her with a steely gaze. “If you do not go, nor shall I.”

Crista threw up her hands, smiling through her anguish. “You are the most terrible manipulator,” she said, shaking a finger at him. “You know very well you have just said the only thing to change my mind. My conscious is already quite overburdened enough without adding the curtailment of your pleasures to my tally of misdeeds.”

“It will do us both good to forget our troubles for a few hours.”

Crista saw no reason to point out she could not forget them, even for a few minutes.

“Yes, perhaps it will, and I am curious to see how the jewels are received. To say nothing of your beautiful chalice.” She ran her fingertips over the finished piece of silver. “I should like to see the duchess wearing the rubies. Although I don’t suppose she will do so for an afternoon garden party. Pity. Even so, if she takes pleasure from them, it might just reignite my pride in a commission well executed,” she added, more in hope than expectation.

The bell over the shop door jangled.

“That will most likely be Lord Amos come to collect these things.”

Crista’s foolish heart leapt at the sound of his name, and she was conscious of colour flooding her cheeks. Fortunately, Uncle Charles took himself off to the shop and could not have noticed her reaction. Crista placed herself behind the door, pathetically eager to hear his voice.

“Good day to you, Chesney,” said that voice.

“Lord Amos. Your timing could not be better. Your commissions are just now ready for collection. If you would be so good as to take a seat, I shall pack them up for you. I shall be but a moment.”

“Take all the time you need. I am in no particular hurry.”

Crista kept well clear of the door when Uncle Charles returned to the workroom, fearful Lord Amos might catch a glimpse of her in her boy’s clothing. She passed the jewellery, nestled in a velvet-lined box, to her uncle. He took it with one hand and the chalice with the other. Crista stood behind the door to open it for him, but did not completely close it behind him. She peeped through the gap as Uncle Charles placed the commissions on the counter in front of his lordship and slowly lifted the lid of the box containing her creations.

Crista knew she had done some of her best work, but also experienced a moment’s anxiety as Lord Amos bent his dark head over the jewellery, taking an inordinate amount of time to examine it. Even though she could not take public credit, she so wanted him to approve. It would be enough to know he admired what he saw. After what seemed like an eternity, he lifted his head again. Instead of looking at Uncle Charles, his glance rested on the door to the workroom. Crista panicked. Had be noticed her somehow? Had she made a noise and given herself away?

“Exquisite,” he said, addressing the comment to the door behind which she stood, as though talking directly to her. “You are to be congratulated, Chesney. It is one of your finest creations.”

“I cannot take much of the credit.”

Lord Amos continued to look at her door. “In that case, you must ensure the credit is directed to the right quarter.”

Crista stifled a gasp as panic gripped her. He knew, or at least suspected. But how could he? How had they given themselves away? They had been so cautious. Dear God, what if he said something? That would mean Crista’s full history would become public knowledge, which in turn would put paid to Reece’s activities. She would be glad about that, of course, but the consequences for her family, to say nothing about her own situation, would be unendurable. Were that not the case, she never would have allowed herself to be dragged into the affair.
Can I trust you, Lord Amos?
Strangely enough, her panic subsided, and she intuitively understood he would keep her secret, at least for now. She did not need him to do so for long. Once she had done this final commission for Reece, Amelia would be safe, and it would no longer matter.

“I sincerely hope the duchess will take pleasure from her gift, my lord,” Uncle Charles replied. “That will be credit enough for all concerned.”

“I do not see how it could be otherwise,” he replied softly.

The chalice was then admired, both purchases were wrapped, and Lord Amos took his leave. As he did so, he said, “I look forward to seeing you and your niece at the party tomorrow. I hope Miss Brooke has not forgotten I offered her a tour of the stud.”

***

By agreement, all six siblings met before the dinner hour that evening. It was a family tradition to present their mother with her new piece of silver on the evening before the garden party, so it could be admired in private and added to the cabinet.

Amos’s brothers and sisters were awestruck by the beautiful suite of jewellery.

“I had no idea old Mr. Chesney was quite so talented,” Annalise said, fingering the delicate necklace and holding it up against her own neck.

“Mama will be thrilled,” Portia said. “She does so enjoy her baubles.”

Zach laughed and tugged at one of his younger sister’s curls. “If these are your idea of baubles, I shall present you with Chesney’s account to settle. Trust me, it will make your eyes water.”

“A price beyond rubies,” Portia murmured.

“Chesney’s creation has set Portia to quoting the bible,” Nate said, shuddering.

“Portia quotes things all the time,” Annalise reminded them, basking in reflected glory. “She is far cleverer than all the rest of us. Unlike me, she is not frivolous and always has her nose in a book.”

“That is not the only difference between us, Anna,” Portia replied indifferently. “When I make my debut next year I am hardly likely to be run off my feet by amorous beaux keen to win my favour.”

“Of course you are,” Annalise said. “Don’t make the mistake of underestimating your charms, or you will miss all the fun. Not that there is much fun to be had in a ballroom with four brothers glowering at any gentleman who dares to approach you.”

“That bounder Simpkins was sniffing around your petticoats the entire season, Anna,” Vince said, scowling.

“He’s in dun territory and would have compromised you in a heartbeat just to get his hands on your dowry,” Zach added.

Amos nodded. “Or just to get his hands on you.”

“You see what I mean, Portia. They are totally impossible. They frighten away the gentlemen who interest me as well as those whom they seem to think have ulterior motives.”

“Perhaps if you concentrated on gentlemen who do not enjoy reputations as rakes…” Zach suggested with a long suffering sigh.

“Where would be the fun in that?” Annalise lifted her shoulders. “Gentlemen with dark reputations are so much more interesting. You know how easily I become bored.”

“And she wonders why we watch over her,” Vince said, shuddering.

“I wouldn’t mind quite so much if the four of you practised what you preach, but I feel absolutely certain you are all bent upon committing the very indiscretions you accuse my admirers of contemplating.”

“We are not indiscrete with innocents,” Nate said.

“Ah hah.” Annalise grinned triumphantly. “So you admit it then?”

“Don’t let our mother hear you giggling, Anna,” Nate said, wagging a finger at her. “You know how vulgar she considers it.”

“Speaking of our mother, are we all agreed the jewellery will be well received?” Zach asked.

“How could it not be?” Vince shrugged. “Besides, we commissioned it, so it’s too late for a change of heart.”

“Oh, Zach could pay for it without noticing the loss,” Portia said airily. “And then give it to his lady love instead of Mama.”

“Does Lady St. John favour rubies?” Annalise asked with an angelic smile that earned her a frown from the Duke of Winchester and caused his brothers to share a chuckle.