Which, in turn, pleased Dory for it proved that her old, much-beloved mother was still inside that body somewhere. Her mind might not be what it had once been, but a part of the woman who had raised Dory to be a strong-willed lady was in there somewhere. Now if only they could figure out how to get her to remain this way.
That, however, was a task for another day. Just now? She had a toy to go and purchase.
“I like that idea very much, Mama.” With a smile, Dory headed for the door. “I shall dress now and have the carriage brought around. Helen can accompany me to the store, if that is acceptable?”
“Fine. That will suffice for propriety’s sake.” For a moment, Dory’s enthusiasm dimmed a bit. That response meant her mother wasn’t her old self because in the past, Dory – or any of her sisters, really – would not have been allowed out of the house without their mother hot on their heels. Mostly because the dowager was terrified that one of her daughters might catch the eye of an “entirely unsuitable” gentleman.
Which, of course, Dory already had.
Bending down, Dory gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek and tried not to let the dowager see how much this change hurt. “I will be back soon, Mama, this new stuffed duck or whatever it is in hand,” she promised. She also hoped that when she returned, her mother remembered that she had sent Dory out on the errand in the first place.
“Take your time.” The light in Lady Chilton’s eyes had begun to fade again – just a bit. “I shall be here. Dr. Hastings is about. I am fine.” Except that Dr. Hastings wasn’t here just then. He was off doing whatever he did when he was not attending Dory’s mother. Looking in on other patients, probably.
“As you say, Mama.” However, her mother just waved Dory away with her hand as she picked up a book from a nearby table, the errand for the toy seemingly forgotten.
Swallowing hard, Dory took a look around her mother’s sitting room. She had decorated this room in shades of pink, rose and cream when she buried her husband – Dory’s father. She had declared that she wished for a change from the dark browns and tans that this room had been done in when she first came to Chilton House as a new bride. Though she had only been a child, Dory remembered very clearly her mother declaring that it was time for a change and that change was good for the soul.
Now, Dory had the feeling that change was coming again and this time? It would not be good for the soul.
That was why she needed Jeremy and Dionysus and the fantasy world they represented. Behind that Peacock Door? The world could be whatever she wished. There was no pain or fear or worry. Just pleasure. Desire. Seduction. That was the world Dory wanted to live in. Not this one where change, once started, was unlikely to stop.
Chapter Nine
“Thank you, Arthur.”
Jeremy waited until his tiger, young Arthur, had lowered the coach steps before alighting. Unlike some members of the aristocracy – and Jeremy was still a member of that privileged class, much to his mother’s annoyance – he refused to simply call his servants and employees by general, nondescript names. Jeremy knew what it meant to be overlooked in such a manner and refused to do the same to anyone else.
“A toy shop, my lord?” Arthur used his best diction when he spoke, trying hard to remove the thick Cockney accent from his voice.
Jeremy had found Arthur lying beaten and bloody in a gutter outside of a Drury Lane theater a year ago, his little body so thin and scrawny he looked more like a skeleton than a living, breathing child. While another man might have left Arthur there to die in the gutters where he had likely been born, Jeremy had taken the boy in and made sure he received proper medical care. When Jeremy learned that he was an orphan, he had given the lad a job and the beginnings of an education.
To a man like Jeremy, who had so much, it was a very small thing, but to Arthur? That opportunity was everything.
It was also what made Jeremy a different sort of man than his brothers. Neither Wilson nor Alfred ever saw much more than their own needs and desires. Or their own social class. Jeremy? He saw everything and everyone.
Perhaps that was the reason he saw Dory for the goddess she was when no one else ever had.
Dory. He had hated to leave her in her bed that morning, but it had to be done. She could not be found missing from Chilton House, which was why he had all but leaped from his bed as if it was on fire when he had awoken to see the dawn kissing the sky with its lovely pink and purple hues that morning.
Someday, though, he might be able to watch the dawn with her without worry or fear of discovery and then take her body as he desired. No, as they both desired.
“Indeed. A toy shop.” Jeremy gave the young man a sharp nod, trying to pull his thoughts away from the delectable creature that had shared his bed last evening. “Tomorrow is Sunday, remember? Which means dinner at my mother’s house. That also means I cannot show up empty-handed, especially for young Maggie.”
The boy nodded vigorously. “Of course, my lord. Forgive me fer oversteppin’ a bit.”
Jeremy had noticed that when the boy grew flustered, his carefully cultivated new accent began to slip. They would have to work on that. If the lad wanted a better position someday, he would be required to have the voice and language for the job.
“No mind.” He gave Arthur a cheeky grin. “Just remember that I am not a typical lord, so the things that are acceptable here might not be elsewhere.”
“Of course, my lord. Will you be here long?” Arthur’s far more proper accent was now firmly back in place.
“I’ve no idea, my boy. None at all.”
Actually, Jeremy wasn’t even certain what he was looking for, though he had been assured by his mother – who had seen an article in The Town Tattler the other day – that this shop would be the place to find it.
And by the phrase “this shop,” Jeremy was referring to The Child’s Emporium, located on the far end of Bond Street, which was, for all intents and purposes, a shop that housed every child’s fantasy.
Though the current gold-gilt and deep maroon mixed with forest green façade was relatively new, some version of The Child’s Emporium had existed in this very spot since around 1720 and was thought to be one of the first stores to open in what was now London’s most exclusive shopping area. The quirky, yet highly-respected establishment had been founded by a man named Mr. Newsome Oakley and been passed down through the generations for the last hundred years or so.
The current Mr. Oakley who ran the shop was typically referred to simply as “Mr. Okey” as a way to differentiate him from the previous owners who all shared the same name. As Mr. Okey’s father was still alive and visited his son in the shop on occasion, the differentiation became particularly important when one wanted to conduct a transaction versus when one just wished to have a friendly chat – because both of those events were extremely common in the store.
As a child, Jeremy had adored this shop, mostly because it was a place where his every boyish fantasy came to life. As he aged, his fantasies had changed, however, though a part of him still thrilled to see all of the toys displayed so beautifully on the shelves. And, of course, the front window at the Christmastide season was not to be missed, no matter how old one was or wasn’t.
Mr. Okey had also been among the first to adopt the German tradition of a Christmastide tree. While he did not use candles to light the tree – what with that being a fire hazard and all – he did decorate the evergreen with miniature toys in all shapes and sizes, as well as long glass vials that were filled with a ground German glass of some sort that sparkled and winked in the light, making the entire tree appear to shimmer.
If nothing else, this man was an innovator in so many respects, not just in his decorating. He also loved to create new and different toys, always searching for just the right thing to bring a smile to a child’s face.
Now, according to a brief article in The Town Tattler, Mr. Okey had taken the concept of a child’s rag doll and somehow changed it around to create a new stu
ffed toy in the shape of a duck. Fashioned from some sort of exotic wool from the Orient that was said to be far softer than regular wool, the toy also boasted limbs and a bill that were stitched on separately, allowing for some movement, along with black button eyes. The entire thing was then stuffed with regular wool and sewn up the back to create a unique, and apparently quite in demand, toy.
The article must have run in the Tattler yesterday, for Jeremy’s mother had sent over a note at first light, mentioning that it would be to his benefit if he could secure one of the new stuffed toys for Maggie before he arrived for Sunday supper. Which was her way of informing Jeremy that he had best show up with that toy in hand or expect that there would be hell to pay.
Again, Lady Patience Dunn was hardly one to live up to her name.
Giving himself a good mental shake, Jeremy nodded at Arthur. “I shan’t be more than a quarter-hour, I suspect, if that. So unless another carriage approaches, make certain you and Henry wait right here. I’ve other appointments that I need to keep today.”
Arthur nodded quickly and Jeremy was reasonably assured that his instructions would be carried out. Even though Arthur occasionally made a mistake, he was a good lad, and Henry, who was Jeremy’s coachman, had been doing a fine job tutoring the child at his job as well as in the basics of reading and writing. Jeremy wanted his servants to be as educated as possible, and went to great lengths to ensure each of them received the proper instruction.
Upon entering the shop, Jeremy wasn’t surprised to find that it was far more crowded than normal and there, in the center of things, was the jovial and always laughing Mr. Okey himself. Which, again, was unsurprising since Jeremy didn’t know a single person in all of London – and quite possibly all of England – who didn’t like Mr. Okey.
Like his father and grandfather before him, the well-liked man didn’t seem to age much at all, either. In many ways, he seemed quite timeless, just like the toys he sold. He always had a ready smile and a kind word for anyone who walked into his shop, no matter their station in life, which was unusual for a Bond Street merchant.
He was also one of the few people who had never judged Jeremy – for anything. Instead insisting that, at heart, like so many others, Jeremy was a good man and that anything he did – good, bad, or questionable? He did for a reason.
“Lord Dunn!” Mr. Okey cried cheerfully when he spotted Jeremy. “How good to see you, my friend! But weren’t you just in here the other day?”
Jeremy waited until Mr. Okey extricated himself from the crowd of people, ably handing them off one by one to his assistants, before navigating the narrow aisles of the shop towards the other man who had made his way to a corner that held only a few toys, save for some boxed tin soldiers and some bags of jacks.
“I was, yes, and Maggie is extremely delighted with her doll. That was an excellent choice for her, by the way. Thank you.” Jeremy inclined his head in thanks. “However, my mother informs me you have a new toy. Some sort of plush duck?”
Mr. Okey nodded enthusiastically. “It’s really only something I am experimenting with at the moment, though it has proven rather popular. It was an idea of my father’s that he could never quite get right. Too scratchy. Not good for a young child. However, this new wool I have been importing is softer than anything you have ever felt. It is exquisite, if I do say so myself. The ducks are not cheap, of course, but they are worth every cent.” He gestured directly behind him to a high shelf where two round, vaguely-duck-like objects sat on a high shelf.
“I’m surprised you have any left, if that is the case. I wasn’t certain that you would, especially since they are proving so popular.” In truth, Jeremy had expected to walk out of here with yet another doll for Maggie rather than the extremely popular toy duck. And yet there were two such plush ducks, both of them tucked away on a high shelf and very nearly out of sight.
“I always have a little something left for one of my favorite clients.” Mr. Okey’s eyes twinkled with mischief, as if he had somehow known that Jeremy would arrive looking for one of the new toys. “The design needs some refinement, mind you, but for a young child? I don’t think that matters quite as much as the softness.”
“How young?” Jeremy eyed the toys on the top shelf. While they didn’t look much like normal ducks – though they were cream and beige in color and could be considered a caricature of duck – they did look both incredibly soft and strangely appealing.
The other man winked at Jeremy. “I think Lady Maggie would enjoy one, if that is what you’re asking.”
Very few people even knew of Maggie’s existence, though this man was one of them. When Jeremy had first taken over as Maggie’s guardian, he had known nothing about what would make a young girl happy and his mother’s suggestions of training corsets and diamond necklaces did not seem like good suggestions. Not even to Jeremy who knew absolutely nothing about the care of children. Especially little girls.
Desperately seeking help, Jeremy had ventured into The Child’s Emporium, hoping for some wise counsel from Mr. Okey’s father – the man who had run the shop when Jeremy himself had been a child. At first, when Jeremy had discovered a much younger man in place of the older man he had hoped to find, he was skeptical, but Mr. Okey’s charming and friendly manner, along with his seemingly innate talent for knowing just what toy would be perfect for any child, had quickly put Jeremy at ease. As had Mr. Okey’s promise that he was an expert at keeping secrets since he dealt only in toys and not gossip.
The advice Mr. Okey had offered that day regarding a young girl’s toys, along with her possible likes and dislikes, had been invaluable, and Jeremy had been a regular customer ever since. It was little wonder that people whispered that Mr. Okey might be a magician of one sort or another – at least when it came to toys.
“Very well. I shall take one.” Actually, there had never been a question about the matter. After all, the dowager Duchess of Wyncliffe had made her decree. Come home with that duck – or else!
“I’ll just get that down for you then.” Mr. Okey began searching for a ladder. “Now where did that step-stool go? Ah, yes, here it is! I’ll just get one then, shall I?”
“Allow me. Please.”
Given that he towered over the other man, Jeremy quickly climbed up on the step-stool to retrieve the toy, no additional ladder necessary. The last thing he wanted was for London’s most beloved toy merchant to fall off a ladder while retrieving a toy for London’s most reviled libertine. That would not look good in the papers – at all.
As his fingers closed around the toy, Jeremy suddenly became aware of two very different things. The first was that this toy duck was, indeed, the softest thing he had ever felt. The second was that he was being watched.
“Would you be so kind as to retrieve that other duck, my lord? I should like to purchase one as well.”
That voice. Soft and husky, silk with just a hint of gravel beneath. Jeremy would know that voice anywhere, for it had begun to haunt his dreams as of late.
Turning, Jeremy saw Dory peering up at him from where she now stood beside Mr. Okey. Silently, he handed the first duck down to her before picking up the other one for himself. Then he took great care in removing his person from the step-stool, being careful not to fall over his own two feet and break his neck, for he was that unnerved. That would also not look good in the gossip sheets tomorrow.
In truth, Jeremy hadn’t anticipated ever encountering Dory out here in the world beyond Dionysus, though perhaps he should have. While there were few places open to him, even as a lord, there was almost no place in the whole of London that would be barred to her. It should have occurred to him that at some point, their paths might cross.
Then again, they had only just unmasked themselves last night, so perhaps he was being too hard on himself.
“You two know each other then?” Mr. Okey was looking back and forth between Jeremy and Dory quizzically. Then, to Jeremy’s surprise, he shrugged and smiled. “Well, why not, I suppos
e? London is only so big, is it not? And you two seem to be fairly well acquainted.”
“We have met, yes.” Somehow Jeremy managed to find his voice, though it sounded thick and stupid to his own ears. “Lady Dory, it is a pleasure to see you again.” He bowed slightly, noting that no maid or other companion followed her just then. How curious. Especially for one as sheltered and protected as she was rumored to be.
Then again, she had been sneaking away from home at night to attend his masquerade and then again last night to visit him. So perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised.
“Lord Dunn. It is a pleasure as well, though it has been an age since we’ve met, I’m afraid.” Dory dropped into a curtsey and Jeremy could see she was trying hard not to blush. “Though I had not thought to encounter you here.”
“Nor I you.” Which of course begged the question of why Dory was here at all. At last rumor, the current Viscountess Chilton was not expected to give birth for another month.
Jeremy was so fascinated by the sight of Dory where he did not expect her to be that he was somewhat surprised when Mr. Okey removed the plush ducks from both of their hands and gave them each a knowing smile.
“I shall just box these up then?” he asked, a knowing smile on his kind face. As if, again, he knew that Dory and Jeremy were not mere acquaintances but rather something more.
However, Jeremy simply waved him away, still too surprised to utter more than a few words and pleasantries. All he could see was Dory. Here. In front of him. Outside of Dionysus. And seeing her made his body react in a way he hadn’t anticipated, though, again, he probably should have.
His cock had hardened to the point that it would probably be painful to move and his blood was now racing in his veins. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest and a litany of reasons why even speaking with her in public like this was a bad idea created a relentless cacophony in his head.
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