Ducal Encounters 01 - At the Duke's Discretion (3 page)

She had seen each of the four brothers in the village at different times but couldn’t tell them apart. All of them were tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and dark-eyed. The duke stood a few inches taller than his brothers, as though being first born had afforded him that right. She hadn’t spoken to any of them. Indeed, she had no wish to draw attention to herself, and every reason to fade into the background. Even so, the sight of those brothers, the sound of their educated voices, spontaneous laughter and the charm and elegance evidenced in their mannerisms, had left a mark on her. She came away from those sightings understanding what had not previously been obvious to her. The Sheridan family did not follow the example she had seen set by other aristocrats who put themselves above their company, expecting all and sundry to behave with deference. Quite the opposite, in fact. The Sheridans appeared to be as comfortable with farmers and fishermen as they probably were with their equals. Crista now understood why the villagers took such fierce pride in claiming them as their own.

“Certainly we can do something special for her grace this year, Lord Amos,” her uncle said.

Ah, so he was Lord Amos Sheridan, the second son. Crista had heard he was the sibling responsible for the horse stud at Winchester Park. It was a great success. Well, of course it was! Everything that family touched turned to the equivalent of the precious metal Crista spent her days working with. When she had time to herself, she often walked on the common land between the village and Winchester Park and observed one or more of their lordships charging across it on horseback. Lord Amos was the most familiar sight, but she had never seen him at such close quarters before. His large frame filled her uncle’s establishment with an inundation of masculine power and smooth formidability that made Crista feel inexplicably warm.

Something stirred deep inside her—some dormant feeling that curled through her body and settled pleasurably in her abdomen—as she continued to observe him. She was angered by a reaction over which she appeared to have no control. Through no fault of her own, enough of the control she had once exerted over her own activities had already been wrested away from her. She did not require handsome gentlemen with charming smiles, sophistication, and poise stalking her thoughts. Even so, there was something about Lord Amos she reacted to, in spite of her best endeavours to remain immune. Yea gods, she must be more tired than she realised since such whimsical fancies did not usually have any place in Crista’s world.

“That is remarkably good of you, Chesney,” Lord Amos replied amiably. “But, excuse me, I heard tell your eyesight is not what it once was. Are you perfectly sure the strain wouldn’t be too much for you?”

How extraordinary, Crista thought, that he should know of her uncle’s malady and seem genuinely concerned about it.

“Your lordship is remarkably well informed.”

Lord Amos shrugged those impossibly broad shoulders. “It’s a small village.”

“However, I would ask you not to listen to rumours put about by establishments in Compton, for I am persuaded that is where this whimsy must have originated.” Lord Amos raised a brow, but said nothing. “I am perfectly able to be of service to your lordship. I can no longer do the close, intricate work, it is true, but I have a very able assistant who more than adequately serves me in that respect.”

“An assistant?” Reece blurted out, his face like thunder.

“You?” Lord Amos turned towards Reece and raised both brows this time, as though he couldn’t quite believe such a dandy would be prepared to get his hands dirty. Ah, so there was more to his lordship than a handsome face and easy manners.

“I have that honour.” Reece recovered quickly and executed an elegant bow.

“Hmm, I see.”

But when it became apparent Lord Amos did not appear to care too much for what he saw, Crista warmed to him a little more.

“Well, Lord Amos, I am sure we can meet your request for something out of the ordinary to mark the occasion.”

“Stop fishing for compliments, Chesney. All of your work is out of the ordinary, and well you know it.”

Uncle Charles inclined his head. “Your lordship does me great honour.”

“On the contrary, I speak as I find. However, as I was saying, her grace turns sixty this year. The duke’s commission for an additional piece of silver to add to her growing collection will not change, but I am charged by the duke to seek your advice on something more personal. A gift from her children to mark the occasion.”

“Perhaps a special suite of jewellery? A necklace, earrings and bracelet in gold or platinum, with ruby and diamond settings.”

“I’m listening.”

So was Crista. As her creative mind whirled with possibilities, her excitement grew. Her uncle ought to have warned her he intended such a suggestion, since it was she who would have to design and make the jewellery. Had she been aware, she could have prepared some sketches. But that was not why he had sprung the suggestion on Lord Amos, she was sure of that. Her wily old relation was up to something.

“Would you like me to draw up some suggestions for your consideration?”

“Hmm, the duke will need to be involved in the decision.” Lord Amos rubbed his chin. “How quickly can you have something to show us? We do not have the luxury of time on our side, for which I must take the blame. I ought to have spoken to you about this matter long before now.”

“A week should suffice, my lord.”

“A week? But that will only leave you with a week to make the pieces, once we agree upon them. Will that be sufficient time?”

“The planning often takes longer than the execution. Besides, for you, my lord, anything is possible.”

But only if we forget all our other commissions, Crista thought. Obviously, they would do so, but still, if anything went wrong with the pieces for the duchess there would be no time to correct the mistakes.

“Very well then, a week it is. I believe her grace intends to visit Winchester on Tuesday of next week. That expedition will keep her occupied for the entire day. Would it be convenient for you and your assistant to call at the Park during the morning?”

Crista clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent a nervous laugh from escaping. Reece, Uncle Charles’s supposed assistant, didn’t have the first idea about jewellery design and construction. Intimidation and thuggery was more his forte.

“We would be honoured, my lord.”

“Very well then, Chesney,” Lord Amos replied with great good nature. “We shall look forward to seeing you then. Reece,” he added with far less warmth, nodding abruptly to that individual as he headed for the door.

“Good day to you, my lord,” Uncle Charles replied, opening the door for him and standing back to allow his visitor to don his hat and leave the establishment.

When Lord Amos was safely out of the way, Crista pushed through the door from the workroom.

“A suite of jewellery, Uncle,” she said mildly.

“What the devil do you think you’re playing at, Chesney?” Reece asked at the same time. “You said nothing to me about a special commission.”

“I did not know his lordship would make the request,” Uncle Charles replied, turning sideways to wink at Crista. “Remaining in favour with the duke is vital to the success of my business. I could not pass up such an opportunity.”

“You do not have time for special commissions,” Reece said, scowling. “The work you undertake for my masters must take priority.”

“Not at the expense of my relationship with Winchester Park,” Uncle Charles replied with determination. “If I lose that connection I will go out of business, and since I refuse to become part of your infamous deception by accepting payment for what you force us to do, I must earn a living somehow.”

“That connection to Winchester Park is assured. You already enjoy the duke’s patronage.”

“At the duke’s discretion. It could be withdrawn at any time.”

And would be, Crista thought, if any of the Sheridan family even suspected what she and her uncle had been compelled by Reece and his masters to do for them. She shuddered. Not only would the Chesney name be thoroughly disgraced, but Compton village would ensure that everyone who was anyone within the district heard all the particulars of their spectacular fall from grace.

That simply could not be permitted to happen.

“Don’t think to play me for a fool,” Reece said, grabbing her uncle’s lapels and pulling him hard against his own body. Uncle Charles, who did not enjoy the best of health, gasped for breath. Crista was infuriated.

“Let him be, you despicable brute!” she cried, looking around frantically for a weapon.

Reece emitted a rough snarl and pushed Uncle Charles forcibly away from him again. He stumbled, his glasses slipped down his nose, and only Crista’s quick thinking in grasping his flailing arm prevented her uncle from falling to the floor. Crista helped him to a chair and fetched him a glass of water.

“I know you are accustomed to getting your way through brute force,” Crista said to Reece, sending him a damning glance. “But that will not serve on this occasion. If my uncle suffers from your rough handling then he will be unable to work, which means I will not be able to work either.”

Reece seemed infuriated by her disdain. “I can always think of ways to keep you gainfully employed, m’dear.” He leered at her, his gaze insolently resting on her thighs, visible in her tight-fitting breeches. “Never lose sight of that fact.”

“You are certainly welcome to try,” Crista replied, crouching beside her uncle to satisfy herself he was recovering. “Can I fetch you anything else for your comfort, Uncle Charles?”

“Bless you, child,” he replied, wheezing. “I shall be quite myself again in a moment or two. I am not quite in my dotage, yet.”

“Then you will be able to tell me what you plan to do about this visit to Winchester Park,” Reece said, impatiently tapping his fingers against a glazed display cabinet. “It won’t take the duke five minutes to realise I know nothing about jewellery.”

“Then you should have remained in the back room during his lordship’s visit.”

“I did not trust you to deal with the man alone.”

“What could I have said or done to concern you?”

Reece curled his upper lip. “Just remember who you’re dealing with.”

As if we could forget, Crista thought malevolently.

“I shall take Crista with me to the Park,” Uncle Charles said decisively.

“You can’t−” Reece replied.

“How can you?” Crista asked at the same time.

“I shall tell their lordships the truth.” He carelessly lifted his shoulders. “Unlike you, Reece, I have not forgotten how to be honest. I shall tell the duke and his brothers that you are my niece, Crista dear, and do all the design drawings for me nowadays.”

Crista narrowed her eyes at her beloved uncle, pleased to see a little colour returning to his face. She wondered what mischief he was planning in exposing her to the Sheridans. They had been so careful to keep her involvement in his business a secret, but she refrained from asking in Reece’s company. Reece stepped forward, leaned over Uncle Charles’s chair and pressed his face close.

“I don’t know what you think you will achieve by this ruse,” he said in a menacing tone.

“I am attempting to save the business you are intent upon ruining,” Uncle Charles replied in a steely tone.

“Make sure you don’t try anything underhanded, or it will be the worse for you. The day has yet to dawn when an old man and a slip of a girl get the better of Edward Reece.” He picked up his hat and pushed it onto his head. “You know what’s at stake if you step out of line.” He opened the door to the street, paused when he was halfway through it, and turned back to look at them both. “I shall be watching you both very carefully. Very carefully indeed.” Once again his gaze lingered on Crista. “Especially you.”

“You think there is some truth in what Palmer had to tell us about Chesney?” Zach asked, arranging himself in an elegant sprawl behind his imposing desk in the library at Winchester Park. “I thought he was being a bit of an old woman myself.”

“Palmer always flaps like a headless chicken,” Amos replied from his chair on the other side of the desk that had been their father’s and his father’s before him. “But there is something in what he had to say on this occasion, much as it pains me to admit it.”

“In what respect?”

Amos took a moment to gather his thoughts. He liked Chesney and appreciated his extraordinary skill. He had often thought he was wasted in such a small community. Had he set up shop in London, he would have been assured both a rich clientele and the reputation he deserved. Even so, facts had to be faced. The man was no longer in the first flush of youth, and there was absolutely nothing anyone could do about that.

“I suppose Chesney was a little too defensive when I asked him about his eyesight, which got me wondering.”

“No one likes to acknowledge they’re getting old. Take it from one who knows.”

“Quite right, old man.” Amos sent his brother a roguish smile. “But there was more to it than the toll of advancing years, although I can’t seem to put my finger on precisely what.”

“Perhaps you are seeing shadows where none exist.”

“Perhaps I am, but there can be no mistaking the fact I took an instant dislike to Reece, his assistant. The man was dressed in the fashion of a gentleman, which he most decidedly was not, and he had soft hands.”

“You held his hand?” Zach asked with a wicked grin.

“Don’t be such an ass.” Amos grinned as well. “I happened to notice his hands. I was immediately suspicious of him because he seemed so out of place in that shop, and Chesney seemed uncomfortable in his presence. That would not be the case if they worked together and Reece enjoyed Chesney’s confidence.”

“Hmm, even so. I wouldn’t imagine making jewellery to be hard on the hands.”

“Oh, all right then, his hands were too clean, and the knave was too smooth by half.”

“You don’t like the man, I understand that much,” Zach replied, idly fiddling with a silver paperknife, “but if Chesney is happy with his work, who are we to interfere?”