Читать книгу Scandalous Regency Secrets Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Louise Allen - Страница 20
ОглавлениеDANY WATCHED IN amusement and some admiration as her sister, so lately seen hanging her head over the chamber pot, entered the drawing room with the graceful glide and the upturned chin that were the result of long years of practicing to be perfect. Or snooty, Dany often thought.
Mari, with her uncanny way of spotting imperfection, took herself immediately to the large vase of flowers Dany had rearranged the previous afternoon, clearly in an imperfect way. Mari frowned in distaste, measured the bouquet with both eyes and hands and then removed four blooms. Four, exactly the number Dany had grabbed in her attempt to impress Lord Townsend. One, two, three—four, and the bouquet was perfect once more.
“A lesser person could hate you,” she told her sister as Mari then sat herself down on one of the couches, arranging her yellow morning gown into precise folds. She entwined her fingers in her lap.
“A clever person might attempt to emulate me,” Mari responded in her sweet voice. “As Mama has encouraged you to do. After all, look at me. Just another country miss from a respected yet fairly ordinary family, and now a countess. I worked hard to accomplish that, you know. Years of practicing with books balanced on my head as I walked, long days of being strapped to the backboard. Lessons in deportment, in music, voice, watercolors, embroidery. Years, Dany.”
Her smile faded. “And all you do is carelessly break a heel, and less than twelve hours later you’re the affianced bride of the hero of Quatre Bras, the most eligible, sought-after bachelor in all of England. If anyone should be considering hating someone, Daniella, I think that anyone should be me.”
Dany’s smile hurt, totally forced. “And he’s going to retrieve your letters and Oliver will never be any the wiser. You believe that, don’t you?”
“I have to believe that, yes. If not, my life is completely and utterly over.”
Thank you, Mari. That added another row to the pile of bricks on my shoulders.
“Have you heard from the earl?”
Mari shook her head. “No, nothing since his last missive, telling me that he’d be home within a fortnight. And that was three days ago. That’s enough time, isn’t it? You must tell me that’s enough time.”
Dany crossed her fingers in her lap. “I told you. The blackmailer’s note was quite specific. He will contact you another way rather than the knothole. He will arrange to return your letters on trust, and then your chosen emissary will hand over his letters at a designated place and time because he fully understands you have no more funds available, as you explained so eloquently in your note, and has accepted the garnets as payment in full.”
So I can be assured the letters will be tossed in the fire, and not saved as some sort of romantical keepsake, only to be found someday and stir up a mess all over again. Because yes, sister mine, much as I love you, there are times you can be thick as a plank.
“He’s being very nice, isn’t he, in the circumstances?”
Like now.
Dany’s eyes crossed, but she quickly agreed. “Your blackmailer is best of good fellows, definitely. Very nearly a gentleman.”
Mari’s chin went up. “Now you’re being facetious. I know he’s an odiously bad man, but he could have been worse, couldn’t he?”
“Oh, yes, he could have written a chapbook about you.”
Mari shivered. “A chapbook? Now why would you say anything so silly as that?”
Because I also can be a fool, with a very large mouth. “Oh, no reason. I think I heard one of the footmen open the door. Yes, I’m certain I did.” She gathered up her reticule and gloves and headed for the landing leading down to the foyer. “Ta-ta, Mari. I’m off to Bond Street, to bankrupt the baron.”
Coop had just stepped into the foyer when she came charging toward him. “I talk too much,” she said, brushing past him. “Let’s go.”
He replaced the curly brimmed beaver he’d barely had time to tip in her direction, and followed her. “Am I allowed to agree, or would I be safer with a simple ‘Good morning, my dear’?”
She stopped on the flagway, looking at the town coach. “What on earth? It’s not raining. It’s sunny and pleasant, even a bit warm. Why are we riding in that contraption? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”
Coop put his hand beneath her elbow, and she studiously ignored the rather pleasant frisson that impersonal touch caused. “Sharp as a tack this morning, aren’t you? Yes, that’s it entirely.”
“Oh, it is not. There’s someone else inside the coach, isn’t there? Don’t tell me it’s the viscount. I may not know him above a day, but I am fairly certain he hasn’t yet left his bed.”
“Or not yet reached it. I chose the privacy of the closed coach because we may be traveling together but we won’t be arriving in Bond Street at the same time. We’ll meet by accident.”
“Then you do have a plan. Thank goodness one of us does.”
“It’s not brilliant, but it is a plan, yes. Now come along, I want to introduce you to my friends and allies.”
“Does that make them my allies, as well?”
“I wasn’t aware you needed allies.”
“I’m with you, aren’t I? I should think it wouldn’t come amiss if I had an entire army behind me.”
“I can see this is going to be a pleasant morning.”
“Perhaps if I had been able to sleep after realizing Mari’s now in twice the trouble she was before I was so fortunate as to find her a hero, I might be more pleasant.”
Why couldn’t she stop talking? Really, the baron would be doing her a courtesy if he stuck a handkerchief in her mouth.
“I warned you I was no hero. Just get inside while I explain to myself why I persist in enjoying your company as much as I apparently do,” Coop said as the groom let down the steps.
“You enjoy my company? Really?”
Yes, there it was, her heart once again going pitter-pat.
“Why look so shocked, Miss Foster? Or does that bother you as much as it does me? Now, please, we shouldn’t keep the others waiting.”
Since she was left with no other sensible choice—and told herself that was the only reason she was obeying him—Dany stepped up and pulled herself inside the coach, aiming for the empty forward-facing seat as Coop joined her and the coach moved off into the square.
Sitting on the facing seat was a pair of exquisitely dressed creatures, both of them grinning at her as if either she or they were the resident village idiots.
“Oh, Coop, she’s beautiful!” exclaimed the dimpled young blonde in the bordering-on-outrageous bright pink redingote and high-crowned straw bonnet adorned with red cherries and a sprinkling of what most resembled sugared gumdrops, and tied with a wide green grosgrain ribbon that nearly obliterated her neck. Her voice was slightly high, but adorable in its honey-dripping drawl that clearly stamped her as not being English born. “You didn’t tell me she was beautiful, Jerry.” She gave her companion’s forearm a quick, light slap. “Details, my love. It’s as the duchess says, if you’re going to be of any use to us, you must remember the details.”
“Yes, Clarice,” the sweet-looking cherub of a man apologized. This must be Jeremiah Rigby, Baronet, the friend Coop had mentioned yesterday. Now here was a redhead who’d wandered too close to the carrot patch. Its color clashed badly with his heated blush. “But I did tell you about the hair, right?”
The woman he’d addressed as Clarice leaned over and planted a kiss on the cherub’s cheek. “You did, indeed, precious peach.” She turned her attention to Dany, who had just then been looking at Coop, hoping for some sort of explanation that clearly wasn’t coming. “Hello, Miss Foster. I’m Clarice Goodfellow, late of the Fairfax County Virginia Goodfellows and soon to be Lady Clarice Goodfellow Rigby. That’s my Jerry here,” she said, hooking a thumb toward her betrothed. “Isn’t he just the most handsome thing you’ve ever seen? Well, yes, of course he is. Say hello, Jerry.”
“Miss Foster,” Rigby somehow managed to choke out, tipping his hat. “Pardon me for not rising. It is my honor to meet you.” He then looked at Cooper in some desperation.
“Sir Jerr—Sir Jeremiah,” Dany answered, momentarily wondering if she should put out her hand for him to bow over, but then quickly deciding the man had enough on his plate without attempting such a maneuver in a moving coach. “Miss Goodfellow. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
Clarice put up her gloved hands, as if framing the last moments for posterity. “There, you see? That wasn’t so terrible, was it? Introductions are so full of stuffy rules in England. Rough ground, I say, with all the folderol of who comes first and who comes last. Rough ground gotten over quickly is my answer to it all. And now, to settle it, I shall be Clarice, and Jerry here will be Rigby, because everyone save me calls him that, and then there’s Coop and you. You’re Dany, correct? Ah, I love when things are settled, and now we’ve all cried friends. Oh, and fellow conspirators, which is more lovely than anything, I’m thinking. I’ve always wanted to conspir-e-ate.”
Dany saw a mental image of her sister’s face if she could hear Clarice Goodfellow’s opinion of the strict rules of protocol she and her sister had had drummed into their heads for years: her eyes bugging out, jaw dropped to half-mast, her maid fumbling in her mistress’s reticule for some feathers to burn under her nose.
“What a wonderful suggestion, Clarice,” Dany said, wishing she had been able to find a way beyond the Miss Foster and the my lord considering they were betrothed, for pity’s sake. But now Clarice had done it for her. Americans were so refreshing. “Isn’t it—Coop?”
She shot another glance toward Coop, who was still avoiding making eye contact with her or anyone else in the coach. Was he outraged? Dumbfounded? Embarrassed? No, wait, he was experiencing some difficulty with his breathing, wasn’t he, and the eye she could see had begun to water slightly. He was near to killing himself, trying not to laugh.
Ahhh...wasn’t that sweet.
She couldn’t let him suffer like that, poor thing. He might burst something important.
“I couldn’t agree with you more completely, Clarice. Formalities are so—oh, what could be the proper word? My lord Townsend—dearest Coop, I should say—as you have yet to contribute to this delightful conversation, could you be so kind as to assist me?”
His lips pressed tightly together, Coop’s only answer was a quick shake of his head. Clearly he dared not open his mouth.
“No? Oh, that’s too bad. Oh, wait, I’ve got it now. Everyone, tell me if I’ve got it right, please. Formalities are so...formal.”
Clarice pointed her finger at Dany. “Exactly!”
It was entirely possible Lord Cooper Townsend hadn’t laughed, really laughed, in quite some time. If so, he was definitely correcting that lapse now, only able to catch his breath for a moment, at which time he managed to whisper to Dany, “I’m going to kill you,” before going off again.
“It’s the worry, poor man,” Clarice said, nodding knowingly. “Jerry here told me he’s in some sort of terrible trouble, although friend that he is, he won’t say just what. But I’ll get it out of him eventually. Oh, dear, now he has the hiccups, doesn’t he? Jerry, check to see if there’s a flask in the coach pocket. Nothing like holding your nose while downing some strong spirits to beat away the hiccups. Or, as my uncle Soggy, the privy master, often said, ‘Make you not care that you’ve still got them.’ Oh, Jerry, that’s right, you don’t have to nudge me. I shouldn’t have said that, although for the life of me I don’t know why, seeing as how all of you bow and scrape to your privy councillor. A privy is a privy, Jerry, and that will never change.”
“Clarice,” Rigby said in a strangled voice, “I’ve told you. There’s a whacking great difference between your uncle Soggy, who digs privies, and the privy councillors who got their name because it once was the custom for kings to discuss secrets in the privy because that’s the only place His Royal Highness didn’t have to worry about being overheard.”
“It seems to me you can hear lots of things in a privy,” Clarice pointed out with a pout.
For a moment, Dany feared the baron might roll right off the padded squabs, doubled up in hilarity. But he stopped himself, manfully, she decided, and somehow gathered up the pieces of his humor and tucked them back inside his gentlemanly self. “Forgive me,” he said, pausing for one final hiccup. “Clarice, you are a treasure beyond price.”
“Thank you, Coop, but that isn’t true. Today, for scolding me when I said nothing so terribly wrong, I think that price will be a new bonnet. Won’t it, Jerry, love?”
“Two, if you fancy more than one,” her beloved promised as the coach drew to the curb. “And here we are, a mere block from Bond Street. How long, Coop?”
Coop pulled out his pocket watch and Rigby did the same. “Half past noon should do it. Remember, we’ll stroll in after you by some minutes. We can’t take the chance of raising Mrs. Yothers’s suspicions. Do you know what you’re going to say, Clarice?”
The blonde was busy gathering her things. Gloves, reticule and the lace-edged parasol she then handed to Rigby. “Don’t you worry about me, silly. The duchess says I lie better than her best Aubusson carpet. That’s a compliment, sweetie,” she told Rigby as he managed to back out of the carriage with his walking stick and the parasol in one hand, Clarice clutching the other and warning him to mind her skirts.
The door closed and the coach moved on.
“Dany? You did nothing but sit there while I made an utter fool of myself. You weren’t amused?”
He’d called her Dany. Well, about time, considering they were supposedly going to marry. Really, she was liking him more and more. Which was probably also a good thing, unless it became a bad thing, which could also happen.
The insides of her cheeks had nearly come to grief, holding back her own amusement, but somehow she’d remained silent, one might even say composed. “I was amused. A person would have to be my sister to not be amused.”
“Then I congratulate you on your composure. In my defense, I was not making fun of Clarice.”
“No, of course not. She does that very well on her own, and seems to enjoy doing so. You were probably chortling too hard to notice that she winked at me. Who is she, really? I mean, other than Miss Goodfellow of the Fairfax County Virginia Goodfellows.”
“She was raised with Thea, Gabe’s soon-to-be bride, and traveled here as her ladies’ maid. But nobody can know that. Rigby took one look at her and tumbled into love, so now the duchess is turning her into a lady. She’s doing very well actually. It’s only been a few weeks, if that. She still has the occasional slip of the tongue.”
“Deliberate slips,” Dany told him. “I think I’m going to like her very much. But now, if you don’t mind, perhaps you’ll tell me what’s going on, please. I thought we were going to Mrs. Yothers’s establishment to...to reconnoiter.”
“We were, but after I left you last night, Darby and Rigby and I came up with a different idea. We don’t want to appear too suspicious or heavy-handed, you understand. Unless you planned to march inside, grab a hat pin and threaten her with it if she didn’t talk.”
“No, I dismissed that idea in the first five minutes. I spent the remainder of the night waiting for inspiration that never arrived, which is very lowering, because I’m usually quite good at what my mother would term conniving. In my defense, I believe worry for Mari froze my brain. I loathe saying this, but I fear this expedition is all in your hands.”
“You wouldn’t mind writing that down, would you?”
“And my sister accuses me of being facetious. Oh, speaking of Mari. I told her what you said I should tell her and she’s completely happy and relaxed, certain her worries are over. For once in my life, I took no pleasure in lying to her.”
“You couldn’t tell her the truth,” Coop said as the coach stopped again. “Are you ready?”
Dany peeked out the side window. “This isn’t Mrs. Yothers’s establishment. Where are we?”
He waited for the footman to lower the steps, and then helped Dany to the flagway before he answered. “Promise me you won’t cause a scene.”
“Why would I—where are we going?”
“Minerva—that is, my mother tells me this is the second best jeweler shop in town,” he said as the footman ran ahead to open the door to a small shop. “Ah-ah, don’t dig in your heels, Miss Foster. You are about to choose what will become the Townsend betrothal ring. Generations to follow depend on your good judgment.”
“Generations to follow depend on your ability to find a willing bride, or they won’t follow at all,” she told him, her heart pounding.
“You and I know that, but if we’re to convince the world differently, you need a ring, especially since my mother and the duchess spent last evening telling all and sundry that the hero of Quatre Bras is about to become leg-shackled. I’ve already had three impassioned, tearstained missives from young ladies begging me to change my mind, and my man had to turn away one persistent mama who declared it wasn’t fair of me to choose a bride before her daughter recovered from her measles and could race hotfoot to town, at which point I would have no choice but to toss this opportunistic nobody country miss into the dustbin and declare for the beauty.”
“‘Opportunistic nobody’? Somebody actually said that? I’m sister to the Countess of Cockermouth. I’m daughter to Henry Erasmus Foster, Esquire. I’m grandniece to Lady— No, never mind that. She ran off to Italy last year with her head groom. But that doesn’t matter. I’m Daniella Foster, and I’m not nobody. I’m me.”
To her surprise, Coop took hold of both her hands and raised them to his lips, depositing kisses on the back of each kid glove, his green gaze steady on her face.
She pulled her hands free, aware that her insides had begun to tremble in the most alarming way. “Why did you do that?”
Coop shook his head slightly. “I imagine because to kiss you on the mouth would seal your fate entirely, considering we’re still standing on the flagway and several parties are feigning disinterest while watching every move we make. I just realized that, between your kindness to Clarice, your deliberate teasing me into a better mood with your silliness and your impassioned defense of your unique and increasingly appealing self, I was left with no other choice.”
“Oh. Well. Um, all right.” Dany’s toes curled inside her shoes. “But you’re only saying all of that so I’ll politely accompany you inside.”
“I don’t think so, no,” he told her in a voice that, if not sincere, was residing next door to sincere. “But will you?”
Dany opened her mouth and idiocy came out before she could stop herself. “I’m sorry, will I what, my lord? Behave, or marry you?”
“For the sake of generations of Townsends to come, for the moment I’ll be delighted if you don’t bankrupt me in there.”
“Yes, that probably is the best answer. But no garnets.”
“On my word as a recently declared gentleman.” He extended his bent arm, she slipped hers through it and for the first time in her life Dany was off to pick out a bit of jewelry that, at least temporarily, would be her own.
The first thing she noticed upon entering the long, narrow shop was that there was not a piece of jewelry to be seen anywhere. No necklaces, no eardrops, no rings. Not even a single stickpin for his lordship’s cravat. The side walls were lined with wooden drawers, each with its own brass handle, keyhole and a white card listing its contents. Each side had its own wooden ladder that could be pushed along the drawers, making it possible to reach them all, and they stacked a good fifteen feet high.
A library of jewelry.
In front of each wall were long narrow cabinets and high stools with purple velvet cushions. The carpet on the floor was swirled through with gold, and so soft Dany’s heels sank into it.
There were a half dozen male clerks wearing black leather visors, their shirtsleeves wrapped to their wrists in white paper, banded by black ribbons that kept the material tight to their arms. There would be no rings or other bits of glitter disappearing up a sleeve in this establishment, that was for certain.
Especially since each clerk was no more than three feet from what appeared to be the remains of a regiment of burly soldiers, each more fierce-looking than the next.
There were two customers in the shop—one a man currently examining a tray of diamond brooches, and the other deep in conversation with the clerk who apparently had been deemed trustworthy enough to wear his jacket.
“My goodness. I don’t know if we’ve stepped into a church or a prison.”
“Intimidating, isn’t it? I think I’d rather face several dozen of Bonaparte’s finest,” Coop agreed. “Just remember, you’re the customer. This is not the only jeweler in Mayfair.”
“In that case, I shall be Mari. I warn you, she can be embarrassing. Oh, listen. That man is arguing with the clerk allowed to wear his jacket.”
“The proprietor,” Coop corrected. “But you’re right. Since we’re being ignored by everyone in favor of said argument, what do you say we eavesdrop?”
“My thought exactly. We do rub along together fairly well, don’t we? I may only partway bankrupt your future generations.”
Apparently Coop wasn’t listening. “Hush.”
“Yes, course. But first we’ll strike my last statements. Ooof!”
Coop had rather roughly shoved her behind him, and just in time apparently, as the angry customer stormed past them in the narrow aisle and slammed his way out of the shop.
“Goodness,” Dany said as she extricated herself from her position between Coop and one of the long cabinets. “What do you suppose just happened?”
Coop took her hand. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
The proprietor was fanning himself with his handkerchief when he spied his new customers. He was a small man, almost painfully thin, his bulbous nose quite out of proportion with the rest of him, his pate as bare of hair as a polished egg even as his coal-black eyebrows were small bushes unto themselves. It was difficult to believe he was real, as he looked more like a pen and ink caricature than a man.
“My most sincere apologies, sir, that you should witness such outrageous behavior in my establishment,” he said in a voice half an octave higher than Dany’s. “Some people take umbrage at hearing the truth, sadly.”
“He didn’t care for the price you quoted?”
“More the fool I’d be if I were to turn over what he thought these were worth.”
At that, the man pointed to a garnet necklace, bracelet and eardrops lying on the countertop in an inglorious heap.
“Oh, my,” Dany said, eyes gone wide.
“But I suppose they’re mine now, considering that he all but threw the necklace at me.”
“Really?” Coop picked up the necklace and examined it. “Do you fancy it, my dear?”
She knew what he was asking, and gave him her best answer. “They put me in mind of the set I was given by my grandmother.”
“You don’t want these, sir. Pretty enough, but the stones are glass. Not even very good glass, as I pointed out to my unhappy patron. I am Mr. Jonathan Birdwell, proprietor,” he then continued, collecting his dignity. “How may I be of service to the gentleman?”
Dany looked down at herself, just to be sure she hadn’t suddenly gone invisible.
Coop allowed the necklace to fall back to the black velvet square they’d been resting on, the same black velvet square Dany had used to wrap the set before depositing it in the knothole. He looked to the door, but didn’t make any attempt to follow the unhappy customer who was probably long gone at any rate.
“Actually, Birdwell, idle curiosity forces me to ask the name of our disappointed gentleman.”
The proprietor wrapped up the jewelry and tossed the velvet square to one of the guards. “At least the gold is real—we’ll melt it down,” he said to the fellow before returning his attention to Coop. “I’m afraid I can’t divulge that information, as the gentlemen deserves his privacy.”
Dany saw that Coop was in the process of reaching into his pocket for his purse.
Oh, no, there was no reason for that. Not while Mari was around!
“You refuse? The insult! The sheer audacity! Little man, do you know to whom you are speaking?”
“For the love of...”
“...all that’s reasonable and decent, yes, I agree. Come, Lord Townsend, we shall take our custom elsewhere,” she continued over his rasped protest. “I may not yet be your wife, but I am your affianced bride, well aware of the respect due you.”
And me. Just in case, Jonathan, old sport, you thought I was something other than a young, innocent miss, which I’m certain you did!
“Wait!” Birdwell all but shouted. “That is,” he continued, grasping the shreds of his self-imposed dignity and wrapping them around him, “my deepest apologies, my lord. How could I not recognize your lordship, the hero of Quatre Bras...”
“And points west, yes,” Coop interrupted dully, pulling back one of the stools for Dany, who grinned into his glare as she pushed herself up onto the purple seat. “I remember.”
A little Mari, a sprinkling of Clarice...and a whopping big dollop of Dany. Why women did not rule the world was beyond imagination...
“You really wish to stay, my lord?” she asked, already depositing her reticule on the countertop. “Well, I suppose if this clerk here will deign to be more forthcoming...”
“I don’t know the man by name, my lord, that being one of the questions you don’t ask a moneylender.”
Moneylender? Oh, this was getting interesting!
“I understand,” Coop said. “He was here to sell the garnets?”
“That he was. We, um, we accommodate him from time to time. His, um, customer used it to pay a debt, or at least that is my understanding. I believe you know the rest.”
Dany signed theatrically. “How very boring. And here I thought there would be a good bit of gossip to be had, but apparently not.”
“Never say gossip, miss,” the proprietor begged as his eyebrows nearly crawled onto his forehead. “Buying as well as selling is my business, but I would never buy anything I recog—that is, I only buy very sparingly.”
“How reassuring,” Coop said, taking a seat beside Dany. “My fiancée, Miss Foster, and I are here to select a betrothal ring. One with a new stone, one that has never seen another setting.”
“Yes, my lord, your mother’s note this morning was quite specific. Um,” he added quickly when both Coop and Dany frowned, “lovely woman, your mother. Quite...quite a presence about her. She established an account for you just yesterday. But wouldn’t you care to step back into one of our private viewing rooms?”
“I like it here,” Dany said, only because she was still feeling contrary, if no longer invisible.
“We’ll remain here, Birdwell,” Coop said. “Miss Foster becomes light-headed in small rooms.”
Dany gave him a sideways kick, which was the least he deserved.
“Very well, my lord. I will get you a selection of my finest rings.”
“Don’t ask,” Coop said as the proprietor walked away, shooing one of the guards ahead of him.
“I’m sorry, but I fear I must. Your mother?”
“Embarrassing, I know. I’ll explain another time.”
“Yes, you most certainly will. You did promise to introduce me to her.”
“I know. I also promised myself I’d read the book on beekeeping she presented me with, but sadly, I don’t keep all of my promises.”
“Really? I’ll have to remember that. So, our blackmailer is in debt to a moneylender? That is worrying, as it must make him even more desperate.”
“Our little man didn’t say that, not precisely,” Coop corrected. “He assumed your grandmother’s garnets were used to pay a debt. It’s just as possible the blackmailer made an outright sale to the moneylender— Wait. How do we know, how does the proprietor know, that the man we just saw is a moneylender at all? No names were exchanged. Damn. We may have just seen the blackmailer. If he’s paid in jewels, he then sells them.”
“I suppose that’s possible. I didn’t see his face thanks to you pushing me behind your back. Did you get a good look at him?”
“No. He was angrily jamming his hat on his head as he passed by, his arm fairly well covering his face. Upon reflection, that may have been deliberate, if he’d recognized me. Tall, but not as tall as I, well dressed, but not remarkably so. And we didn’t hear him speak. In other words, he could have been anyone.”
“Yes, but you said tall. That would mean tall enough to reach the knothole. Doesn’t that prove that we’re dealing with more than one person?” Dany felt excitement, but only for a moment. “That doesn’t really help us, does it?”
“Probably not, no. Oh, and by the way, my compliments on your clever handling of Birdwell.”
“He deserved it, assuming I was your light-o’-love, or some such thing.”
Coop shook his head. “Damn, I was hoping you hadn’t noticed. I told you I’m new to all of this, so I apologize for bringing you in here. Clearly, choosing betrothal rings are the duty of the groom.”
“I don’t see why. The groom doesn’t wear the thing.”
“True, but we won’t point that out.”
“Or ask costs.”
“With my betrothed present? No, I—we—definitely will not ask costs.”
Dany couldn’t help herself. She laid her hand on his forearm and batted her eyelashes at him, just as Mari did from time to time with Oliver. “As true love has no price. Aren’t you a dear.”
Coop shifted rather uncomfortably on the stool. “Are you done?”
“I don’t think so, no. Do you think it’s the red hair? Dexter’s said more than once that redheads are often mistaken for females of negotiable affections. Birdwell may only have been making a natural assumption.”
“Can we possibly have this conversation another time? Or are you getting some of your own back for something I did?”
“I’m not quite sure. I’ll have to think about that. It may just be that otherwise I’d feel rather overwhelmed in such stuffy surroundings. Either that, or I’d enjoy seeing Birdwell’s eyebrows climb his forehead like bushy black bugs a few more times. I do know I’m enjoying myself. Are you enjoying yourself?”
“More than I’d believe, yes. I’m nearly on the edge of my seat, wondering what you’ll do next.”
“Well, I could be good. But what fun would that be?”
“No fun at all, I agree. Ah, and here comes our smugly smiling proprietor, followed closely by a parade of clerks toting drawers undoubtedly filled with gems and rings. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but let the bug crawl begin.”
She watched as the drawers—she counted seven in all—were reverently placed on the countertop at exactly the same time, the purple velvet cloth covering each just as reverently removed, one after the other. The pompous precision of the thing nearly caused her to giggle.
The clerks stepped back, actually clicked their heels and then turned as one, retreating, leaving behind only a man nearly as large as a mountain. He took up a position behind the diminutive Birdwell that seemed innocuous enough, but warned that there would be no pilfering going on as long as he was around or else there would be a cracked head in someone’s near future.
“My lord, for your kind consideration,” the proprietor intoned importantly, sweeping a hand over the assembled glitter and glory. “My very best, at your disposal. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, pearls, aquamarine, topaz.”
Dany wanted to scream, laugh, jump down from the padded tool and dance about in a circle. She’d never seen so much marvelous all in one place. She was having trouble controlling her breathing; swallowing was definitely beyond her, blinking out of the question.
Yet once again the proprietor was ignoring her, selecting rings and presenting them to Coop, just as if she wasn’t there.
“No,” she heard herself say as the jeweler held out a heavily engraved gold band encrusted with diamonds, the center stone so immense as to seem unreal.
Both Coop and the jeweler turned to look at her, which was when Dany realized she’d spoken.
“You don’t care for it, Miss Foster?” Coop asked, clearly inviting her to do mischief.
Wasn’t he a sweetheart!
“Assist me,” she said to Coop rather imperiously, extending her hand so that she could slide off the stool rather than jump from it. Ladies clearly weren’t often accommodated in jewelry shops, or else at least some of the stools would be shorter. “Yes, thank you. Now step back if you please.”
He squeezed her hand encouragingly. “You don’t care for diamonds?”
“I don’t care to have the Townsends’ soon-to-be ancestral betrothal ring chosen by you two gentlemen. If that were to be the case, you shouldn’t have brought me here.”
He leaned closer, to whisper his next words in her ear. “And what fun would that have been?”
She bit her lip so that she wouldn’t smile. He was going to give her her head, let her do what she wanted, even if it meant she was about to embarrass him all hollow.
But she had an idea, and he’d given it to her.
She walked along the counter in grand imitation of her sister at her most imperious, pointing a finger at first one velvet-lined drawer, and then the next. “No, not this one, take that one away, no, no, definitely not the diamonds. That one,” she declared, stopping in front of the drawer of emerald rings.
Emerald. Like his eyes.
This drawer had been her destination from the moment the assortment had been placed on the cabinet, a decision solidified when he’d looked into her eyes and he’d seen a twinkle of her own mischief there.
Birdwell motioned for the other drawers to be removed and the clerks hustled forward to do his bidding. That left the single drawer in front of Dany, and she hopped up onto the stool once more and began examining its contents, row by row.
The settings and stones all looked so impressive, and so very heavy. Why, Mari very nearly had to have a maid walk beside her, holding up her hand, when she wore the Cockermouth ancestral ring. Dany had supposed the first Cockermouth bride had been nearly Amazonian, and the countesses that followed had all been saddled with the thing, like it or not. Mari swore she adored it, but Mari wouldn’t tell the truth about something like that if someone held a knife to her.
The Townsend brides would not be burdened with anything so monstrously large, or so garish. She slipped off her gloves, more than ready to try on dozens of rings, just because she could.
But that turned out not to be necessary.
“That one,” she declared, pointing to a large but otherwise unadorned rectangular-shaped stone held in place by thin prongs, the gold band itself fairly wide, flat and completely plain. Simple. Elegant. And not likely to bankrupt his lordship.
“Yours is a lady of taste, my lord. This stone has just recently arrived from Columbia, home of the most exquisite emeralds in the world.” If Birdwell had wings, he probably would have lifted completely off the floor. As it was, he seemed to grow about two inches as he reached for the ring.
But Dany was faster. She snatched it up and slid it onto her finger, where it fit as if fashioned for her. And yes, the stone was a perfect match for Coop’s eyes, at least when her behavior elicited any sort of emotion from him, be it amusement, frustration or downright anger.
“My lord,” Birdwell all but bleated, keeping one eye on Dany’s hand, as if she was about to make the ring disappear. “You understand that the emerald was only inserted into that setting to, well, to display the stone. That’s not a complete ring. You’ll wish now to choose a setting worthy of the stone. May I suggest diamonds? A veritable cushion of them, wrought into rosebuds on either side of the stone, raising it a full half inch above a heavily engraved band. I have just such a setting.”
“Absolutely not. That will just muck it up,” Dany said, closing her fist. The ring was going nowhere!
Coop took her hand, and she unclenched her fist. “Are you sure, Miss Foster? It’s beautiful, no doubt, but it is rather plain.”
“I’m being considerate. It’s probably the least expensive stone in the drawer,” she whispered as Birdwell flew off, probably to bring them the setting he favored. “Besides, you said I could choose, and I do like it.” She looked up into his eyes, but couldn’t read them. “Please?”
He bent and kissed her knuckle, just below the ring. “And there it stays until the day you take it off, mostly probably to fling it in my face.”
With that, he turned to the approaching Birdwell and said, “Miss Foster and I have decided. The ring goes with us today.”
It was only then, watching the proprietor’s face as various emotions flitted across it, that Dany realized that the man was caught between elation and his reputation, should anyone know the unadorned, rather outré ring had come from his shop.
Apparently elation won the battle, and he ordered the man mountain to take the drawer away as if its inferior contents offended him.
She looked down at the stone once more. It was large. It was deeply green, and very likely without flaw. Birdwell had said he’d only put the gem into the plain setting in order to display it. So it wasn’t the ring that could cost the earth, but this single, solitary stone itself.
Oh, dear.
“Um,” Dany whispered, tugging on Coop’s sleeve. “You might want to ask him the cost. I may have...misjudged.”
“Just now figured that out, did you?” Coop whispered back. “But don’t worry. My crafty mother already arranged for a discount, so you’ve probably only halfway bankrupted me.” He grinned at her. “And as that same mother used to warn me, you may want to close your mouth now before a fly wanders into it.”
