"No," Cafon dismissed, still studying his chosen design. "This is perfect."
Teofil smiled, taking back the sheet of paper with the chosen design on it. "I can start work on that right away, if you like."
"By all means," Cafon accepted. "When do you anticipate you can complete it?"
"A few days at the most," Teofil replied easily. Even if he did all his other work before he created the earrings, it wouldn't take him more than that to get to and finish the earrings. The design Cafon had picked was simple and elegant, but simple nonetheless.
"I don't suppose you could do me the favor of delivering them when they're complete?" Cafon asked, looking briefly annoyed about something. "Unfortunately, I have to go out of town for a few days."
"Wouldn't it be easier for us to hold them for your return?" Teofil suggested.
"I don't think I'll have time between finishing this business and our anniversary to make it back here," Cafon said, his handsome face shaping into a frown. "I will leave instructions for my head servant to expect you?"
"All right," Teofil accepted, ignoring his misgivings. Something about this didn't seem right, but Cafon was one of the nicer customers he'd dealt with, so he'd make an exception.
"Thank you," Cafon said, tension leaking from his shoulders. "I knew leaving it until the last moment was going to cause extra trouble."
Teofil laughed, willing to bet that Cafon waited until the last moment every year. He wondered briefly if Lord Rathiel did the same and if the man was buying Cafon something equally expensive.
But that was none of his business. Jewelry making was; that was what he should be doing now.
"Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?" Teofil asked, clearing up the rejected designs and tucking them away. They might appeal to another customer later.
"No, I believe that's all," Cafon answered, smiling happily. "I shall return though. Rath's birthday is in a few months."
"I shall prepare designs for matching cufflinks," Teofil promised, only half joking.
Cafon laughed delightedly, standing up. "Excellent. I will cover him in expensive jewelry in spite of his protests. Thank you again, Master Teofil. I will be sure to commend your work to all who care to listen to me for more than a moment."
Teofil flushed a little—he was still an assistant, but it didn't hurt to have his name out there. Shaking Cafon's hand, he bid the pleasant noble goodbye before turning back to his worktable to finish up his current order.
*~*~*
There were yellow roses mixed through the clusters of red roses he'd placed around his kitchen. Sighing in resignation, Teofil set down his bag and locked the door behind him.
Turning back to the kitchen, Teofil allowed himself a moment to admire the new roses before a small, blank envelope caught his eye, propped against the giant vase in the center of his table.
Teofil crossed the kitchen slowly, as though the envelope would disappear if he stared at it for too long. He picked up the envelope with trembling fingers, not sure he really wanted to know what the note said.
The gifts were anonymous, almost impersonal. A note … He couldn't dismiss a note quite as easily. Teofil wondered briefly, crazily, if the gifts had perhaps been meant for someone else, and he'd find the note addressed to someone else as well.
Carefully breaking the seal of the envelope, Teofil removed the pages inside. There were a good many pages, and at the top of the first his name was written in an unfamiliar, elegant script.
Teofil stared at his name for a long moment before reading the rest of the words on the page. It was a poem, he realized after a few lines. An old-fashioned, romantic epic; one of the poems his mother had often read to him when he was a child. It was one of her favorites, despite it being unfashionable for featuring a three-way relationship rather than a conventional couple.
Teofil sat down, even more unsettled than he had been before opening the envelope. Why that poem? Was it chosen for its content? Or for his familiarity with it? But that wasn't something that just anyone would know. Not even Wystan would know he knew this poem.
And no one who knew would have the ability to buy him such lavish gifts, nor would they tell such a thing to a rich stranger.
That left content. He didn't have a secret admirer. He had two. But that made even less sense than having a single admirer, unless it was a rich couple seeking thrills.
Why they didn't just visit a brothel, Teofil couldn't fathom. Surely that was cheaper than trying to woo him into playing their games. Teofil eyed the poem unhappily. This was driving him crazy.
Folding the letter closed, he slid it into its envelope and put it back where he'd found it. He didn't give it another look as he went about making his dinner. If his thoughts strayed once or twice … Well, he was allowed to daydream as long as he kept himself firmly grounded with the knowledge that his admirers were just looking for a thrill.
*~*~*
Cafon's house was beautiful. Teofil was waiting in a sitting room off the impressive front hallway. The small, silk-lined case that held the earrings was tucked safely into his coat, and he hoped the servant he was passing them off to appeared soon.
The sitting room was a pleasant enough place to wait, with plenty of natural light spilling through the windows to show off the lightly colored furniture and tapestries. It was pleasant, but the basket of roses in the center of the mantle reminded him of the flowers still decorating his kitchen.
They weren't quite the same colors—red and white roses, rather than red and yellow—but they were similar enough that he was having problems ignoring the thoughts he'd been ignoring since he'd received the poem three nights ago.
He'd received nothing else yet, but Teofil was sure it was only a matter of time before whoever it was sent him something even more unsettling.
The door finally opened and Teofil stood up, turning towards the door as the servant announced, "His Lordship, the Marquis of Westwood—"
"Oh, do stop that," a familiar voice said, and Teofil froze as Rathiel entered the room. His Rathiel, dressed up in a lord's clothing, with jewels in his ears and the ring Teofil had designed on his finger.
He looked much the same as he had when they were younger. He was taller, but he still had the same slender build, the same slightly lopsided smile, and the same piercing grey eyes.
"Hello, Teo," Rathiel greeted as the servant slipped out of the room. "How have you been?"
Teofil just gaped at him for a moment, long enough for Rath's smile to begin to falter.
"I don't understand," Teofil said finally, shaking his head. "Rath, how—"
"My mother accidentally fell in love with the former Marquis," Rathiel said, ducking his head in a gesture that Teofil vividly remembered. "He accidentally fell in love back, and married her."
"You disappeared," Teofil accused, and then winced. He shouldn't speak to a marquis like that, even if he'd known the man for years. "We thought you moved west with the rest of your family."
"We went east," Rathiel said weakly. "Westwood is half a day's travel east, ironically enough."
"Why didn't you say goodbye?" Teofil asked quietly, trying not to sound pathetic. Rathiel had been his closest friend for nearly thirteen years; Teofil had been furious when he'd left without even saying goodbye.
"We left quickly," Rathiel said, ducking his head again. "I could have … I should have written. I'm sorry, Teo."
"It's all right," Teofil said awkwardly after a moment. "I mean, you had more important things to worry about."
"You are important," Rathiel said fiercely, glaring at him as if daring him to object. Teofil stared at him uncertainly, flushing a little. Rathiel stared back stubbornly, and Teofil reluctantly smiled because Rathiel had always out-stubborned him.
"I know you're here to deliver Cafon's present, but do you have time to stay for lunch?" Rathiel asked, running a hand through his hair and smiling crookedly. "I know some of what you've been up to, but I'd really love to spend some time with y
ou."
"I have to get back," Teofil said, making a face. He had too many orders to stay, despite how curious he was. Rathiel was a marquis … that would take some getting used to.
Rathiel's face fell a little, and Teofil wrinkled his nose at him.
"Some of us have to work for a living," he informed Rathiel loftily. "I can come back?"
Rathiel laughed, nodding in agreement. "Dinner tonight, perhaps?"
Teofil hesitated—he really shouldn't. He had a lot of work … but he hadn't seen Rathiel in almost ten years.
"All right," Teofil accepted. "So long as you don't mind it being late. I have a big piece I need to finish."
"Late is fine with me," Rathiel agreed, smiling happily. "Come, I'll show you to Cafon's safe."
"Isn't his gift supposed to be a surprise?" Teofil asked, but he followed Rathiel from the sitting room without further protest.
Rathiel led him deep into the recesses of the mansion, through more gorgeous rooms that could have swallowed Teofil's entire house and still have room left over. He talked as they went, explaining how his mother had met the marquis when he'd been on the lam from his ex-wife; they'd married quietly and then escaped to the countryside before the woman could raise a ruckus.
Cafon's safe was in a study on the second floor. The desk was covered with stacks of paper in various states of disarray. Bookcases lined most of the walls, stuffed to overflowing with books. A few landscapes hung on the walls between the bookcases, and Rathiel crossed to one of them, swinging it aside to reveal a safe hidden beneath.
"Can I get a sneak peek?" Rathiel asked as he turned the safe's dial in the appropriate combination. Teofil averted his eyes politely.
"It is supposed to be a surprise," Teofil chided, not really sure why Rathiel was asking, when he obviously had access to Cafon's safe and could get at the earrings whenever he wanted to.
"I know," Rathiel admitted, smiling impishly. "But Cafon has had the occasional bout of poor taste before."
Teofil stifled a laugh. "Well, if you like your ring, you should like this," he said instead, relinquishing the box of earrings to Rathiel.
"You designed this, too?" Rathiel asked, eyeing the box curiously. He didn't open it however, just tucked it into the safe and shut the door.
"Yes," Teofil answered, flushing a little. "It matches."
"Excellent," Rathiel proclaimed with a smile, eyeing the ring on his finger with a smile. Teofil almost sighed, a little jealous. Rathiel and Cafon obviously adored each other; all Teofil got was a pair of creepy secret admirers.
"I can give you a proper tour of the house later, if you like," Rathiel offered as he led the way out of Cafon's study. "This is Cafon's house, but he won't be returning until tomorrow."
"Sure," Teofil accepted, trying to follow the twists and turns they took as they headed towards the front door. It was an impossible task, though. Teofil had no head for geography on his best days and Cafon's house, much like every other noble house Teofil had been in, seemed build to confuse.
"So I won't expect you until late, say eight o'clock?" Rathiel asked, leading him down a set of thickly carpeted stairs. "Or would nine be better?"
"Nine," Teofil answered, a little apologetic. "Maybe another day would be better?"
"Nonsense," Rathiel admonished, smiling cheerfully as they suddenly reached the front hall. "I should have invited you sooner. I refuse to wait another day."
Teofil shook his head, a little confused. How long had Rathiel known where he was? Not that he'd moved; his mother had gifted him with the house he'd grown up in when she'd remarried and moved in with her second husband.
"Nine tonight, then," Teofil accepted, deciding he'd figure out more later. Rathiel smiled happily, ducking his head a little shyly before impulsively leaning close and kissing Teofil on the cheek.
"It's good to see you again, Teo," Rathiel told him solemnly, a smile hovering about his mouth.
Teofil nodded, a little dazed. It was just a friendly gesture, he told himself firmly. Rathiel had Cafon and Teofil had seen dozens of nobles—granted, noblewomen, not noblemen—kiss each other on the cheek.
Bidding Rathiel farewell, Teofil left the house and headed back to the jewelry shop. He tried to focus on the necklace he'd be making this afternoon, an intricate piece with many tiny cascades of sapphires, but it was impossible. His thoughts constantly strayed back to Rathiel.
How had he never realized that Rathiel Forsycthe, Marquis of Westwood, was the same Rathiel he'd grown up with? They'd done jewelry orders for him before, Teofil was sure of it. But Teofil had never dealt with those orders, and he'd never waited on Rathiel directly.
If Rathiel had sent servants to deal with his orders, or if Teofil had been busy in the back room, it was possible that Teofil could never have seen him.
But how long had Rathiel known he worked at Wystan's shop? He and Cafon had obviously spoken about it, otherwise Teofil's part in the design of Rathiel's ring would still have been secret.
Resolving to get answers to his questions and to learn what Rathiel had been up to the last ten years, Teofil continued the walk back to the shop, his thoughts as far away from jewelry as they could be.
*~*~*
Teofil had maybe overindulged in wine. Accidentally, but the wine Rathiel had poured for them was much more potent that the wine he normally drank. Rathiel seemed unaffected, describing Westwood's country estate——and Teofil was fighting giggles because Rathiel owned a country estate.
Teofil set down his wine glass harder than he'd meant to, smiling a little because the wine was excellent. Rathiel paused in his description, looking amused.
"But here I am talking your ears off with silly things," Rathiel said, managing to put his glass down without the least bit of trouble. "How have you been, Teo? How's your mother?"
"She got married," Teofil said cheerfully. He liked his stepfather. "To Bimar, the shoemaker."
"No, really?" Rathiel asked, sitting up straight. "When?"
"Two years back?" Teofil guessed, then paused to think about it. "Three, almost. It was a fall wedding."
"She's happy?" Rathiel asked. "I'll have to send a gift."
"She is," Teofil confirmed. "You don't have to send anything. Just go see her, she'd love that. She worried more than I did when you and your mother disappeared."
"Ah," Rathiel murmured, looking away unhappily. "I am sorry. You worried about me?"
Teofil rolled his eyes, the wine or the delicious dinner loosening his tongue. Probably the wine. "Of course I worried about you. You were my best friend, Rath." Teo paused, narrowing his eyes when Rathiel ducked his head, probably prepared to apologize again. "If you say you're sorry one more time, I shall kick you," Teofil proclaimed, not really sure he could follow through on the threat. He'd probably fall over first.
Rathiel chuckled, lifting his head to meet Teofil's eyes. "So how are you doing then? I'm glad to hear your mother is well."
"I'm doing fine," Teofil said, shrugging liquidly. He eyed his wine glass speculatively but didn't reach for it. He'd probably had enough for a week. Tomorrow was going to be particularly unpleasant.
"That's not very descriptive, Teo," Rathiel chided, sipping at his wine elegantly. That wasn't something he'd picked up from being a noble, Teo noted. Rathiel had always been elegant and graceful. "And after I told you most everything that's happened to me these last ten years."
"I've just been working for Wystan," Teo said, shrugging again. "That's all."
"Cafon told me something interesting," Rathiel said, grinning wickedly. Teofil's face, already flushed with alcohol, heated even more.
"I don't know what you're referring to," Teofil denied. He'd managed to forget about the stupid secret admirers, preoccupied with reacquinting himself with Rathiel.
Rathiel laughed at him, his fingers curling languidly around his wine glass.
"Come now, isn't it flattering?" Rathiel asked, his movements lazy as he brought his wine glass to his mouth and took ano
ther sip.
"It's frustrating," Teofil groused, wondering if perhaps Rathiel and Cafon were behind it—but no, they'd been together five years and were obviously besotted with each other. No way they needed him for anything.
Though Teofil might not object if it were them; Cafon and Rathiel cut fine figures … and he'd obviously had more wine than he'd thought if he was entertaining such thoughts.
"Frustrating because of the secret?" Rathiel asked, a soft smile playing about his lips. "You never did have much patience."
"It doesn't make any sense," Teofil grumbled, managing to pick up his wine glass without knocking it over. Taking a healthy, fortifying swallow, he scowled at the cup when he realized it was now empty. "I'm just … the assistant to a jewelry maker. I'm not even pretty like Salib is."
Rathiel looked startled, and he stared at Teofil for a long moment before shaking his head.
"You're impossible, Teo," Rathiel chided, smiling. "You're plenty attractive, and it's common knowledge that Wystan has quite the genius in his assistant."
Teofil's face heated again, and he lazily waved away Rathiel's words. Rath was probably being nice because they were friends.
"I feel sorry for whoever is courting you," Rathiel said, shaking his head. He was smiling though, so Teofil just made a face at him.
"You did this to Cafon, didn't you?" Teofil asked, toying with his empty glass. "How long before you let him know?"
"A few months," Rathiel admitted. "And even then it was accidental."
Teofil sighed, wondering morosely how long it would take for his admirer to give up and approach him. Or leave him be.
"What did you send him?" Teofil asked, curious despite himself. Was there a secret admirer etiquette that dictated what to send to the unwitting victim?
Rathiel laughed loudly and Teofil flushed again, realizing he'd asked that aloud.
"Unwitting victim, really, Teo," Rathiel said, still laughing. "Aren't you being a little dramatic?"
"No," Teofil refuted morosely, shaking his head. "I am a victim of expensive gifts and … and someone breaking into my house to deliver them."
Seeing is Believing Page 2