by Rose Gordon
“Thank you,” she said at last after a few minutes of staring at him as if she didn’t quite believe the words that had tumbled from his mouth.
“You’re welcome. Now, on a less serious note, I have a question for you.” He looked at her to nod her agreement for him to ask his question. “Where did you learn that set down you leveled on Sam?”
Her face turned crimson. “You heard that?” she said weakly.
“Yes.”
“Oh,” she said, quickly lowering her gaze to where his hands were still holding hers. “I…um…I heard Elizabeth say something to that effect once about the man who runs the bookshop.”
“Do you know what it means?” he asked, although he could tell by the look on her face she had absolutely no idea.
Still blushing, she said, “I imagine it has to do with a man’s…” she trailed off and sent a pointed glance toward his waist. Her blush suggested she was more embarrassed to try to guess at the right term again in his presence rather than the actual topic.
“You’re correct,” he said softly. Then, before he could stop himself, he gave her a wolfish grin and said, “Would you like me to explain it to you?”
***
Liberty felt her face heat up all over again and her eyes went wide. But her reaction was not wholly due to his words. That devastating smile on his lips coupled with the way his thumbs were stroking the back of her knuckles were causing a stir of emotion she’d only felt one other time: when he’d kissed her last week.
She moistened her lips. “No. I think I have a good enough idea.” She had a good memory and she definitely remembered what she’d seen two months ago. She may be a virgin—and didn’t even know the proper name for such parts—but she could put two and two together well enough to have a fairly accurate idea. Now, if only he’d stop tenderly stroking her hand, she could catch her breath and escape before she entertained further thoughts of a building desire for this man.
“Very well,” he said. His grin vanished and it was hard to tell if he looked disappointed or relieved. “You do know that you can talk to me about anything, right?”
“I truly don’t need it explained to me,” she protested, pulling her hands away from his searing grasp.
Paul flicked his wrist dismissively. “I’m not talking about that anymore. I just wanted to let you know that anytime you want to talk about absolutely anything you’re welcome to come to me.”
Touched, Liberty said, “Thank you. I shall keep that in mind.”
“Please do. We may not have the same closeness that your sister and Andrew share, but I’m your husband, and I would like you to feel comfortable talking to me. It doesn’t matter what it’s about. All right?”
“All right,” she agreed. Thinking this was a good time to leave before she said or did something to embarrass herself, like ask if he wished they were as close as Brooke and Andrew, she grabbed her journal and quill and walked out the door.
She walked down the hallway and was about to step on the first stair when the sight of Paul’s open room caught her eye. She’d decided before dinner that she wasn’t going to seek retaliation on him for burning her books. Yes, it had hurt to see them catch fire. And yes, she had believed he had done it with malice intent. But now, more than a week later, she was having a hard time hanging onto her anger about it. Anyway, it wouldn’t solve anything to purposely hurt him because he’d hurt her. He knew what he’d done hurt her, ruining something of his wasn’t going to bring her books back. Harmless retaliation was one thing, but she was learning heartlessness was quite another. And he didn’t deserve that.
Seeing his bedchamber door open and knowing he was tucked away in his study for a while, she couldn’t resist the urge to go have a look around. She hardly knew the stranger she was living with. What better way to know more about him than to see his room, she convinced herself as she tiptoed to the open room. She was only going to have a quick peek, nothing more. After casting a quick glance back down the hall to the closed door of his study, she hurried past the threshold.
His room was much larger than hers. The bed was at least twice the size and with the hard angles and sharp edges carved into the wood, it gave off the image of pure masculinity. His counterpane was royal blue and his pillows matched. A small blue square throw pillow with gold fringe around the edges sat in the middle of the bed.
A scuffed up wardrobe was in the far corner by the window. The right door to the wardrobe was slightly ajar. Liberty peeked inside and let her eyes roam over his neatly pressed clothes. With shaky hands, she grabbed the knobs on one of the drawers that were at the bottom. Inside, the drawer was filled with neck cloths. Closing it carefully, she debated on if she wanted to see what was in the other drawer. After only a few seconds hesitation, she grabbed the knobs and pulled it open to find rolled up stockings and several pairs of his neatly folded drawers. She quickly shut the drawer with an abrupt snap and turned her eyes to see what was on the back wall. Ah, the vanity table. That would be a safe place to look around.
She noticed his pitcher had a slight crack in the handle and she frowned when she ran her finger along the edge of the basin and felt the rough edge that was pitted with chips. Her attention was then caught by his shiny shaving razor sitting on top of the strop. Just behind his shaving supplies was a small circular mirror and next to that was a little white dish. Curiosity piqued, she pulled the dish closer.
Two cravat pins, one emerald and one ruby, winked at her from the dish and right next to that was a flat circular object. Her slender fingers plucked up the disc. As soon as it was in her hand she realized what it was: a pocket watch. She turned it over and saw a crest she recognized, but couldn’t place. He’d told her the day he was late to the luncheon at Alex’s that his pocket watch was broken, but she hadn’t believed him. In reality, she’d been willing to believe the worst of him ever since the first time they’d met and after knowing her for a whole fifteen seconds, he’d asked her to call him by his Christian name and bored her all through dinner. There was only one way to know for sure if he’d been lying to her that day, or if perhaps, as usual, she’d been too hard on him.
Holding the bottom with one hand, she used the other to work the clasp. She soon found there was no need to have bothered with the clasp. It wasn’t latched. Flipping the lid open, she let out a gasp. He had not been lying. That watch was beyond broken. It was in complete disrepair. Not only did the clasp not fit together any longer, the hinge was out of line, and the lid literally came off when she’d flipped it open. But the most startling and convincing proof was right there on the watch face. The glass was not only cracked, it was shattered. Behind it, she could see the second hand wasn’t ticking. Having seen men wind their watches before, she knew it was possible that it might work if she wound the stem. She highly doubted it though, and didn’t want to even try for fear of making it worse.
She lightly ran her thumb over shards of glass that were barely holding in place and wondered what he’d been doing that caused his watch to break like this. Had he fallen from a horse with it in his pocket? Had he accidentally stepped on it? Had he dropped it on the hardwood floor?
Suddenly, the blood drained from her face and her heart started pounding so hard she thought it was going to burst out of her chest as she realized exactly what had happened. He hadn’t dropped it on the hardwood floor, she had. She knew she’d seen that crest before and now she knew where. The night she’d stolen into his room and taken his clothes, his watch had been on top of the towel that was on the stool. Afraid she’d make a noise and draw his attention if she put it back down after she’d grabbed the towel, she’d just kept it in her arms along with his towel and clothes. Then, when she’d so carelessly thrown everything across the room, the watch had gone, too. It must have been at the bottom if it hit hard enough to break this badly.
Why hadn’t he ever said anything? The watch clearly was a family heirloom; it had to have been important to him. The answer to her unspoken question came to h
er quickly enough. He hadn’t said anything to her because there was nothing to say. She wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it. Furthermore, he probably doubted she’d even care. And he’d been right to assume such, she admitted to herself. Her previous actions toward him had been as he’d once accurately described, mean-spirited and callous. He had no reason to believe she’d have felt any remorse for her actions.
But why hadn’t he fixed it? He’d been late, or close to it, so many times in the past few months it was obviously creating a problem for him not to have it working.
An idea formed in her brain, and a small smile took her trembling lips. She could fix it for him. She’d been saving all the money she’d gotten from working as a companion. It wasn’t much, but perhaps it would be enough so she could fix his watch and give it back to him as a way to make amends.
With a plan in place, she quickly slipped the watch into her bodice and fled the room.
Chapter 19
“I need to ask you for advice,” Liberty said as she swung open the door to the drawing room of Elizabeth’s cottage.
“While I’d love to be of assistance, I doubt it was me you were seeking advice from,” drawled a deep baritone voice across the room.
Snapping her head in the direction the familiar voice had come, Liberty saw Benjamin Collins, Duke of Gateway, lounging on a settee and basking in the sunlight streaming through the window. “Oh, I’m sorry, Your Grace. I’ve become quite friendly with Elizabeth and she was expecting me today. I’m a bit early. Perhaps I shall come back later.”
Gateway shrugged his shoulders. “She’ll be right back. She went to retrieve something from another room.”
Liberty nodded. “All right. I’ll wait.” She took a seat on another settee and stared at the toe of her slipper as it made lazy figure eights on the carpet in front of her.
“What kind of advice do you plan to ask Lizzie for, Mrs. Grimes?” Gateway asked curiously.
Her head snapped up at his question. He was the last person she wanted to tell about Paul’s problem with having to contend with his brother’s by-blow being rumored to be his. Gateway was a snake. He’d spread the rumor far and wide without a thought to Paul or his future. In fact, he’d probably do it gladly and add a few extra details, too. Last spring he’d tried to create a scandal to shame her family. If he still had that goal in mind, he’d surely use this as ammunition.
Swallowing a lump in her throat, she tried to think of something to tell him. When the deafening silence was broken by a chime from the clock that hung right behind her as it struck the hour mark, Liberty remembered that Paul’s watch just so happened to be in her reticule. “Actually, you might be a better person to ask,” she said with a weak smile. She reached in her reticule and withdrew the broken watch. “I fear I dropped my husband’s watch on the floor. I would like to get it repaired.”
Gateway held his hand out to her. Liberty suppressed a groan as she stood up and walked over to hand it to him.
Sitting up, he opened it up and let out a low whistle. “Wow, you bungled this up good.”
She bit her lip and waited for him to finish his appraisal of the ruined timepiece.
“Dropped this on the floor, did you? Looks more like you slammed it,” he said, twisting the stem.
Liberty shifted her gaze to the floor, causing Gateway to shake his head and chuckle. Clearly there was no way she could deny what she’d done.
The duke grabbed a rubbish bin that was under the table at the end of the settee then banged the watch upside down on his palm. When all the glass fell out, he dumped it in the bin. “Stop!” Liberty squealed, trying to grab the watch from him.
Gateway pulled the hand that held the watch out of her reach. “It’s already broken. It’s not going to make a bit of difference if the glass is in there or not. I just want to touch the hands to see if they can spin.”
“What does that matter?” Liberty demanded. “Just spin that stem.” She pointed to the stem she knew was used to set time.
“I already did,” Gateway explained, piercing her with his cool blue eyes. “It didn’t move the hands. But if I can move the hands by touching them, then there’s hope the gears aren’t bent.”
She had a vague idea what gears were. He obviously had a better idea since he seemed to know what he was doing. Her eyes left where his hands were working on Paul’s watch and traveled to his face. Something was different. She hadn’t seen Gateway for some time, but there was definitely something different about his face. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. Her eyes roved up and down his face several times before she registered what was off. It was his nose. It looked different. Not a lot. Just enough to catch notice.
“You just now caught that,” Gateway said roughly, making her realize she’d spoken her thoughts out loud.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace. I didn’t mean to say that,” she said, embarrassed.
Gateway gave her a slim smile. “A nose for a nose,” he said simply.
“Pardon?”
“My nose. I broke Townson’s more than ten years ago, and he broke mine in return. Took him a long time to get around to it,” he muttered, still toying with the watch.
“Was it after he married Brooke?” Liberty heard herself asking without prior thought.
“Yes. The next day, in fact.”
“I see,” she said slowly. “Because you two got into a fight about him not shaming her and sending us home?”
“No. Actually, I think the punches were all thrown because I said some rather insulting things about her,” he said, flashing her a wry smile. “You’re in luck, the hands spin. The watch isn’t as hopeless as it first looked. I know a jeweler in London who could fix this easily enough. It might take a few days and it won’t be cheap.”
She’d wanted to ask him if he still was trying to bring her family shame and why he even wanted to in the first place, but his announcement of knowing someone who could help her fix the watch erased all previous thoughts. “Wonderful!” She jumped up and scurried to the writing desk in the corner of the room. Pulling out a piece of parchment and grabbing a quill, she turned to face the duke. “What’s the man’s name and address?”
“Mr. Holler. I don’t know his address,” he said, closing the watch the best he could. “He’s on High Street, next to Miles Bakery. He’s pretty easy to find. However, you’ll not get an appointment.”
Her head snapped in his direction. “And why not?”
Gateway chuckled. “He only does business with titled gentlemen.”
Liberty fought to keep a sound of frustration from escaping her lips.
“I’ll tell you what. I’m on my way back to London today. How about if I have it done for you?”
She bit her lip. Could she trust him? Just because he’d been nice to her today didn’t mean he’d do the right thing. But why wouldn’t he, she argued with herself. There was nothing for him to gain by keeping it.
As if sensing her inner struggle, Gateway said, “I see you don’t trust me. And you’re right not to. Hmm. How about if I give you something of mine to hold onto until I bring this back?”
“All right,” Liberty agreed. “What do you have on you?”
He dug in his pockets. “I’d give you my own pocket watch, but I fear I’ll need it,” he said, laying the contents of his pockets all over the table, making all sorts of noise as he did so. The man had all kinds of odds and ends in there. He carried a knife, a watch, a vast array of coins, a few keys, a deck of cards and several other things she had no idea what they were. “Ah, what about this?” he asked, holding up a little black box.
Liberty walked across the room. “What is it?” she asked him tentatively.
“Open it,” he answered simply, shoving all his things back into his pockets.
Slowly, her fingers opened the black velvet box and her eyes almost popped out when she saw the prize that was resting inside. “I can’t hold onto this,” she said with nervous excitement.
“W
hy not?” he asked casually.
“Because, first of all, it’s most clearly a betrothal ring and I am not your intended. And second, the value far surpasses Paul’s watch.” Though she was verbally refusing to keep the ring, she couldn’t take her eyes off of it. The center rock was a large, round diamond and two sapphires were positioned on either side of it. The ring wasn’t the typical yellow gold that was common. Instead it was silver, or perhaps white gold. All along the band was an intricate design of soft swirls and swoops.
“Mr. Grimes might place the same value on his watch that I place on that ring. Priceless.”
“Are you getting betrothed?” she asked, closing the box.
“I hope,” he said easily, but his face didn’t look so sure. “I was bringing it to London to get the setting fixed. If you look closely, you’ll see one of the prongs is broken.”
“If you’re planning to get engaged, don’t you think you’ll need this back soon?” she asked, extending the box in his direction.
He pushed her hand back. “You hold onto it. I’m not planning to ask for a while yet. I have plenty of time to get it fixed.”
“Are you sure? Don’t you think the young lady in question will mind that her ring was in my possession for a while?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think she’ll mind. And if she does, I’ll just make it clear the ring was still mine at the time.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly, tucking the ring into her reticule. “Please let me know how much it costs to fix the watch. I insist on paying.”
“And I insist on it, too. My generosity doesn’t extend that far,” he told her evenly, slipping Paul’s watch in his pocket.
Gateway spent the rest of the day with Liberty and Elizabeth. Elizabeth vaguely explained that the two of them were close and had a common family tie, but Liberty got the impression she didn’t wish to discuss it, so she kept her questions to herself.