Now Constance might have that privilege, he realized.
He closed his eyes, imagining the two of them in the library in the house in Cavendish Square, sitting in front of the fire. She would be doing needlework while he read a book. Or pretended to read as he considered how he might pleasure her later that evening. How he might carry her up the stairs to the master suite. How he would undo the buttons on the back of her gown and push the garment off of her shoulders. How he would undo the ties of her corset and slip his hands beneath it to gently push it away. How he would skim his palms over her torso, his skin and hers separated by only the thin silk of her chemise.
Still standing behind her, he imagined undoing the tie at the top of the chemise. Imagined how he would allow his fingertips to graze her collarbones as he moved his hands to lift it from her body, slowly, so that the silk would barely touch her skin as it came off over her head, the frilly hem abrading her hardened nipples in the process. His hands would cover her breasts then, cupping them as he pulled her naked body against the front of his and kissed the nape of her neck, the tops of her shoulders, the space between her shoulder blades.
He was about to imagine more—much more—when the town coach came to a halt. A moment later, the driver had the door open and the stairs lowered.
“I may be a bit longer than usual,” he said as he stepped onto the pavement in front of No. 32 Ludgate Hill, a bit relieved his imaginings had been interrupted when they were. A moment more and his erection would have been evident behind the placket of his breeches.
Randall paused as he regarded the central arch of the storefront for Rundell, Bridge & Rundell. Four majestic columns outlined the entrance as well as the colorful window displays on either side of the front doors. Four additional stories rose above the main floor, three of them fronted with columned windows and ironwork.
He wondered how much he had spent on the baubles he had purchased therein. Surely not as much as Prinny, of course, but probably more than Lord Torrington.
Randall vowed that from now on, he would only buy jewels for a wife. Should Constance Fitzwilliam deny his proposal, the jewelers would have to find another customer—or several—to replace what he usually spent.
A footman hurried to open one of the doors, bowing as the marquess made his way into the building. Despite the late hour, a half-dozen shoppers milled about, studying the precious metals and gemstones, the array of candelabras and cups, tiaras and trays, pocket watches and swords—enough brilliance to overwhelm even the most jaded aristocrat.
Spotting the irascible Philip Rundell as he placed a newly finished brooch into a display case, the marquess hurried over and lifted his hat. “Good evening, Mr. Rundell,” he said quickly. “I hoped I might find you here.”
The older gentleman gave him a nod. “Lord Reading,” he replied carefully. He suddenly frowned. “What is it?” he asked. “Did she not like the bracelet?”
Randall blinked. And blinked again when he realized the jeweler was referring to the widow to whom he had given a bangle only the week before. “She adored it, actually. But now I am in need of a ring. Gold. A purple stone. Sapphire, perhaps? With multiple diamonds. Can you help?”
Rundell continued frowning, as if he took offense at Randall’s query. He lifted a finger and crooked it as he led the marquess to a display case. He pulled a ring from a bed of black satin and held it up. Tiny diamonds surrounded a blue sapphire almost too large for the gold ring on which it was mounted.
“A bit ostentatious, I should think,” Randall commented. And more like what Torrington would buy for his bride, he thought with some amusement. “Something a bit more ... linear, perhaps?”
Although the jeweler didn’t roll his eyes, Randall was sure he wanted to. Rundell pulled another ring from the display case and lifted it close to his face, a loupe held between his eye and the stone mounted in a gold setting. He held out the ring so Randall could see it up close. “Like this?”
Randall studied the proffered ring, his eyes lighting up when he noticed the purple highlights reflected in a multifaceted stone set in the middle of a line of diamonds, each diamond a bit smaller than the one next to it. “I’ll take it!” he said as he plucked the ring from Rundell’s fingers, his words obviously surprising the jeweler. “I’m in need of something else, as well. An inducement. A necklace. Something that can’t be easily removed once it’s in place. With maybe a cameo or a locket or a ...” His mind raced as he imagined what such a necklace might best display. “A horse,” he suddenly breathed.
Rundell angled his head to one side. “Any particular horse?” he asked carefully. “I’ve a silver charm.” He moved toward another case and pulled out a tray of gold and silver trinkets, each an intricate shape intended for a young lady’s charm bracelet. The silver one of a horse was three-dimensional, its mane and tail flowing behind it, its legs clearly in mid-stride.
“Yes!” Randall nearly shouted, his raised voice suddenly causing the low murmur in the store to cease completely. Heads turned in his direction to discover who might have made the loud comment. Ignoring the stares, Randall kept his attention on the charm. “I’ll take it, too, along with a silver chain. A strong one,” he reminded the jeweler.
“How long?”
Randall considered where the horse should rest when it hung from the chain around Constance’s neck. If the chain was too long, the horse might end up beneath the bodice of her gown. But if it were short ... “So the horse rests in the hollow of her throat,” he said in a low voice, one eyebrow arching up.
Angling his head to one side, Rundell screwed up his face as if concentrating. “A choker, then,” he suggested. “I’ll be a moment,” he said before giving the marquess a nod and moving to the back of the store. He disappeared behind a curtain, leaving Randall to wait while he attached the trinket to a silver choker.
Realizing he still held the ring, Randall moved to a chair near the front of the store and took a seat, studying the ring as he angled it under the lamp lights. He smiled as he imagined how it would look on Constance, imagined how she might react to seeing the work of art for the first time. Her face would light up, her gorgeous blue eyes widening as a smile formed. And then he would briefly be the subject of her joy and attention as she reached up with one hand to rest it on his cheek while she stood on tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek.
If only, he thought, a wan smile forming on his own face at the thought of her initiating such a chaste kiss.
Philip Rundell reappeared from behind the curtain and glanced about, his attention finally settling on the marquess. In one hand, he carried a pasteboard box. Opening the lid, he angled it down so he could show off his creation to the marquess. “Will this suit, my lord?” he asked, rather pleased that the charm worked with the woven silver band that made up the width of the choker.
Randall studied the jeweler’s work of art. He swallowed. Hard. “It will,” he said with a nod, rising from the chair and reaching for the hinged box. “I’ll pay you now, of course,” he said as he followed the jeweler to the nearest counter, clutching the ring in one hand as he held the box in the other.
“Much appreciated, my lord,” Rundell replied. “I will put the ring in a box, of course,” he added. “And hope the intended recipient enjoys it as much as you do.”
Randall nodded. “As do I,” he murmured.
Within minutes, the marquess and his wrapped treasures took their leave of No. 32 Ludgate Hill.
The night ahead would be one of the longest of Randall Roderick’s life, for how did one sleep when a proposal had to be rehearsed? A proposal as well as a request for permission to marry the chit.
A visit to the Earl of Norwick would have to come before a walk in the park, he realized.
Chapter 33
Followed by an Earl and a Knight
Ten-fifteen at night
Charles Goodwin watched Randall Roderick take his leave of Rundell, Bridge & Rundell from where he stood in one corner of the jewelry store,
the brim of his top hat kept low in an attempt to keep his identity a secret from the marquess should the man look his way. Despite their discussion at Randall’s townhouse only the hour before, he was still rather surprised to find Lord Reading in the market for a wedding ring. From what he had said, the marquess hadn’t yet proposed marriage.
When he saw the box the Mr. Rundell had brought from the back, he realized it was far too large for a ring. And then the jeweler had given him another box, a much smaller box far more suitable for a ring.
Once he was sure the marquess had left the premises, Charles made his way to where Mr. Rundell was completing a bill of sale at the counter.
“Pardon me, but may I inquire as to which ring Lord Reading decided to purchase?” he wondered as he held out his calling card in one hand while waving his other hand toward the display case containing an array of rings and bracelets.
The jeweler regarded him through the pair of spectacles that rested near the end of his nose and frowned. “My rings are one-of-a-kind, my lord,” Mr. Rundell replied as he read the calling card. He didn’t reach for it but moved to the display case to pull out a tray of rings. “However, it was similar to this one.” He plucked a ring from the black velvet and held it up to a candle lamp. A row of five white gemstones twinkled from the gold band. “It featured a single sapphire, and the stones ..,” he angled the ring to better show off its array of diamonds, “Were in a line on either side. This, of course, is made entirely of diamonds.”
Charles was tempted to ask about the price of the beautiful ring, but thought better of it when he realized the jeweler was still frowning at him. “May I hold it?” he asked as he lifted his thumb and forefinger to retrieve the bauble.
“There are matching earbobs, of course,” Mr. Rundell stated in a bored tone, making Charles wonder if he would be expected to purchase them. He held the ring for a moment, finally sliding it onto his pinky so he might picture how it would look on Eleanor’s finger.
The rose-cut diamonds were quite impressive and larger than the gold band on which they were perched, although there was a series of gold filigree swirls separating the stones. They will look stunning on her, he thought. Should she ever find the need to defend herself, he figured they might act much like a set of brass knuckles, doing a good deal of damage to some rake’s face should she take umbrage with him.
There was a passing thought of Eleanor using them against him, but he quickly put the thought out of his mind. He rather doubted she would risk damage to the ring by punching him in the face.
“I’ll take the ring now. I’ll hold off on the earbobs until the next special occasion,” he added, realizing he had no idea when her next birthday might be. Perhaps he would get them for her for Christmas.
He inhaled sharply just then, realizing he would be a married man in time for the beginning of Parliament. Eleanor might already be with child. “On second thought, may I take a look at the earbobs?” he asked.
Mr. Rundell angled his head and pulled another tray from the display case before putting away the first one. One finger hovered over the tray as his eyes swept over the rows of earbobs. “Ah, here we are,” he said as he lifted the earbobs from the black velvet.
“Jesus, they’re huge!” Charles said as he regarded the pair of diamond-encrusted earbobs. The array of diamonds were arranged just as they were on the gold ring, smaller diamonds at the top and bottom and slightly larger ones in between those. In the middle was a large, round diamond. Filigrees of gold swirls separated the foil-backed stones.
“Suitable for a wedding gift or ... the birth of an heir,” Mr. Rundell stated as he lifted his chin.
His heart racing, he hoped from excitement and not because he was about to faint, Charles nodded to the jeweler. “I’ll take them now,” he whispered.
Mr. Rundell regarded the earl with an expression that suggested he was rather impressed. “Of course. I’ll put them into boxes right away,” he said with a nod. “And will you be paying for them this evening? Or do I need to send the bill to your man of business?”
Charles gave a shrug, reaching into his waistcoat pocket for a wad of pound notes. “That depends on how much they cost,” he replied.
Seeing the money, Mr. Rundell’s eyebrow arched. Since most of his better clients were extended lines of credit that sometimes took years to pay, the usually surly jeweler suddenly felt an unusual urge to grant the earl a discount. “I’m sure we can work out a suitable settlement,” he said.
Letting out the breath he realized he had been holding, Charles gave the man a nod and began unfolding his money.
Five minutes later, Charles took his leave of the store, realizing he was one of the last people there. Most of the other patrons had left when the ornate clocks on display struck ten o’clock.
From where he sat in one of the chairs near the front of the store, Sir Arthur Goodwin lifted his head and nodded in the direction of Mr. Rundell. “I shall be quick, Mr. Rundell,” he promised as he stood and made his way to where the jeweler stood shaking his head.
“Let me guess,” Mr. Rundell said. “You’re in need of a wedding ring.”
Sir Arthur grinned. “I am. Something similar to the one you just sold my brother, but in a white gold, I should think.”
For the third time in an hour, the jeweler took the tray of rings out of the display case and placed it in front of the knight. His customer studied a few of the rings before finally pointing to a white gold ring with a series of diamonds separated by tiny flutterbies. The entire band was decorated with the flutterbies, a motif he remembered had decorated the hair combs he saw in Lady Priscilla’s coiffure when she had suggested their arrangement. “This will do nicely for Lady Priscilla,” he murmured, handing the ring to the jeweler. “We’re to be married in less than a fortnight, so I should like to take it with me tonight,” he said as he pulled his purse from his waistcoat.
Mr. Rundell regarded Arthur with an arched eyebrow, rather surprised to hear that the man he was quite sure was rumored to be a molly would be purchasing a wedding ring. He sighed and nodded. “Was there some kind of contest? A wager perhaps?” he wondered.
The knight blinked. “Whatever do you mean?” he asked as he frowned.
The jeweler shook his head. “Three wedding rings sold to three men I would never expect to enter into marriage, and all in less than an hour’s time?” Mr. Rundell countered, an expectant expression on his otherwise sour looking face.
A slow grin spread over Sir Arthur’s face as he considered the man’s words. After a moment, he allowed a chuckle. “I see your point. Hades must be getting chilly.”
Mr. Rundell didn’t say what next came to his mind as he watched the knight take his leave of the jewelry shop.
I dare not step outside for fear of being hit by flying pigs.
Chapter 34
A Marquess Pays a Call on an Earl
Nine-thirty in the morning of September 16, 1817
Daniel Fitzwilliam, Earl of Norwick, looked up from the massive mahogany and cherry desk in his study to find the butler on the threshold, his manner suggesting he had been there for some time.
Having handled the Norwick earldom books for as long as his twin brother had been the earl—and for the six months he’d had the title since David’s death—Daniel took a bit of satisfaction in the familiar work. He employed the same servants, purchased from the same vendors, paid the same recurring invoices month after month, and knew every account and its balance.
What bothered him now was the one that wasn’t there. The account that should have been. The account that would have seen his cousin Constance set up with a generous dowry—or at least monies on which she could live for the rest of her life.
Uncle Edward’s affairs had been turned over to him upon the man’s death, although for the life of him, he couldn’t remember having been briefed on Constance and her situation. He hadn’t seen so much as a single invoice for the house in which she lived or for any of her expenses. He had to
surmise she was paying for everything—and everyone’s salary at Fair Downs—by herself.
No wonder she was nearly destitute!
Hildebrand cleared his throat, reminding Daniel of his presence.
“What is it, Hildebrand?” he asked as he set aside his quill.
The butler straightened and gave him a nod. “Lord Reading has asked he if might have a word with you, my lord,” he said in the sort of voice he tended to use for visitors of some importance.
Daniel blinked. And blinked again. Why would Randall Roderick wish to see me? he wondered. He was about to ask if the marquess provided a reason, but Randall Roderick, Marquess of Reading, suddenly appeared behind his butler.
“I don’t mean to appear impatient, but I shouldn’t take more than a moment of your time, Norwick,” he claimed, his hat hanging from one gloved hand. “I promise.”
Daniel stood up, waving the butler away with a quelling glance. “Come in, Lord Reading,” he said, deciding he couldn’t very well chide the butler. The poor man had probably been on the threshold waiting to get his attention for nearly five minutes!
“To what do I owe this honor?” Daniel asked as he indicated an upholstered chair near the fireplace. He moved to the one placed adjacent to it, rather glad Clarinda had insisted there be some furniture of comfort in the otherwise austere room. She had seen to it the walls were lined in a warm mahogany veneer and the two windows were dressed in velvet drapes and silk sheers, but the room boasted little in the way of additional decoration, apparently because David had rarely used it. He hadn’t needed to since Daniel did most of the work of running the earldom from Norwick Park.
Now Daniel was doing it every day from the Norwick House study.
Reading gave him a nod and waited for the butler to take his leave and shut the door before moving to the chair. “Your cousin, Lady Constance,” he answered as he took a seat. He looked up to find Daniel staring at him in surprise.
The Love of a Rake Page 22