‘Yes.’ That his father knew of Rachael didn’t surprise him as it would have only moments earlier.
He snorted, slapped the pillow again and mumbled, ‘Woman must not have a thought in her head.’
‘Perhaps she has considerably functional ones.’
‘Surely not.’
‘I don’t know whether I’m relieved or my pride has been hurt. Or sad. Or what.’ He had been surprised at the reactions he’d felt when she’d spoken and wanted to rush out. He’d been incredulous. After all, they were so new to each other.
Next, he’d been engulfed by wave after wave of loss.
With the women trying to catch his attentions, when the friendships ran their course, he’d usually ended them or they’d naturally faded away.
The loss still surrounded him and seemed to be laughing at him in the darkness, calling him a fool.
Somehow, his conscience teased him that he valued her more for leaving quickly than he would have if she’d lingered.
He could not imagine what direction his brain was taking when it hinted he valued a woman more because she didn’t want to be with him.
His father pushed the covers to the side, put his feet into his slippers and stood, his nightshirt to his knees. He donned his robe. ‘Sounds like a wise woman.’
Devlin didn’t think he’d ever seen his father in a nightshirt without a dressing gown, but then he’d never entered his father’s room in the middle of the night.
His father snapped his fingers. ‘There’s a hundred women who’d say yes to you if you asked them tomorrow. Easily a hundred.’
‘Not a thousand?’ Devlin asked and his father stopped moving and peered around the room as if he’d not seen it before.
‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ He glanced at Devlin and recovered his poise. ‘Well, perhaps I overestimated. Ten. Eleven on a good day...’
He took off his dressing gown before he’d even tied it and threw it to the bedpost. ‘Women fall easily at your feet. Just like they did at mine when I was younger. It becomes about the conquest. Not the woman.’ He returned to his spot between the covers and picked at them, placing them just so. ‘They’re all so perfect. Perfect. At first, anyway. It has to be about the conquest because when you get to know them better, they’re all irritating. They’re all blemished. Just like us. Your mother is the best of the lot.’
Instantly, Devlin reacted, his voice light. ‘I searched throughout all London until I was certain I’d found the only woman who’d not be interested.’
His father chuckled. ‘That’s what I expected you did. Don’t worry, son, the next one will be daft enough to please you. You’ve practically been tripping over agreeable ones your whole life.’
‘It was time I met one who’s particular.’ Devlin noted how easily the smile came to his own lips. How easy to find words that would diffuse his father’s irritation.
His father deliberated on Devlin. ‘Is that all you woke me up for?’
‘I came in to tell you that and that you’re tolerable.’
‘You’re tolerable, too, son. Now that you’re older. Sometimes better than tolerable. Sometimes not.’
‘Sometimes you’re better than tolerable also.’
His father burrowed into the bed, rolled over and pulled the covers high. ‘Now go to sleep. And don’t darken my bedroom door again unless you need fatherly advice.’ He laughed. ‘I’ll be glad to give you hours of it.’
‘You probably won’t chance upon me here again, then,’ Devlin said and walked over to tap his father on the foot that was hidden in the covers. ‘Sleep well.’
‘Same to you.’
Devlin left, taking the lamp.
His father’s words might have had some truth in them.
He tried to think of anyone he’d ever been unable to convince to do as he wished and his mind flickered to Rachael.
As a viscount, with a fortune at his fingertips and an amiable attitude, people found it easier to accommodate him than not. He really asked so little of anyone. Truly asked nothing of them in most instances.
He’d also fallen into the same trap of the people around him. He’d fallen for his own easiness.
He walked the hallway to his rooms just as he had so many nights before.
He was little different from the barrister. Rachael, as a secret merchant, had her own thoughts and he’d not expected that. He’d expected her to put everything aside to turn her attention to him.
He’d expected Rachael to refuse to make love until he’d proposed. Perhaps even obtained a Special Licence. He’d truly expected that. That he’d been prepared for.
Inside his sitting room, he didn’t stop until he reached his bedside and put the lamp on the table.
He felt in his waistcoat pocket and took out the small parcel not purchased from her father’s building. He’d not wanted her to know he had it for her.
Unwrapping it, he extricated the trinket. He’d had the choice to go either to ornate or to the plain. He’d seen the gaudy stone Tenney had given her and known that simple would be best.
Turning the gold band with a ruby stone in his fingers, he imagined it on Rachael.
He’d not presumed she would even think of any financial concerns after they’d made love. His laughter at himself sounded hollow in the room.
He’d not planned on a secret merchant for a wife. He’d known that his skilled man of affairs could take on the particulars of the business and evaluate each on merit, giving Albright a say in minor decisions. Rachael would be relieved—at least she had been in his imagination.
Now he wondered if he’d been thinking like society and not taking her dreams into consideration. It was more than just her dreams he needed to understand. It was her willingness to educate herself in the endeavour and accept challenges.
He smiled. He couldn’t help himself. Rachael was willing to take on the strategies needed to succeed, even though she was afraid. She had a warrior’s heart hidden inside.
The ring reminded him of the folly of his thoughts and he slipped it on his little finger, then took it off. Rachael had a trove of trinkets at her fingertips and more than likely a discerning eye for only the best of jewellery.
He had no knowledge of baubles, but he did have an understanding of what made true beauty, and he hoped that he hadn’t directed Rachael to destroy the true loveliness that was inside her in an attempt for her to become accepted by society.
But he didn’t know the real woman, or perhaps he did, and that was why he’d considered her for a wife.
He’d encouraged her to concentrate on her father’s business and she’d taken his advice.
He’d not thought how it could change his life.
The old Rachael would have wed him. The new one that he’d influenced her to be had reservations about a commitment.
The old Rachael would have been easy to please. A keepsake that would have satisfied her of his devotion and care. She would have liked the little trinket and been satisfied.
This Rachael expected more.
Perhaps she wanted the impossible, but he wasn’t sure exactly what that was. He didn’t know if she was aware either.
The jewel he held was just a token. It didn’t prove anything. He walked to the window, opened it and thought about tossing it outside. It would be the second ring he’d disposed of that way. But he couldn’t. Not this one. It was the one he’d selected for Rachael.
Then he shut the window and twisted the latch one sharp turn. The latch broke, scraping his fingers.
He held the cold, broken metal in his fist, but the window was locked, and he couldn’t toss it out.
He sat on his bed and examined the ring. Examined his life and what he wanted for his future.
Then he slipped the circle on his smallest finger.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Devlin
travelled to Rachael’s house at near teatime. When the butler told him Rachael wasn’t at home, the information hit him like a jab to the stomach. He spoke before thinking. ‘Are you telling the truth?’
The man moved a half-step away in reaction.
Devlin remembered his manners. ‘My apologies,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean that to sound harsh. I was just disappointed, and I thought...she might truly be home and not wish to see me.’
The butler smiled, eyes knowing, then spoke. ‘She really isn’t.’
Instantly, he realised where she was, gave the servant a nod of thanks and went on a search for her.
* * *
When Devlin arrived at the building, Mr Grimsley and a patron stood at the counter, discussing the ornate possibilities for necklaces.
As the man finally paused his conversation to examine another bauble placed in front of him, Grimsley asked Devlin if he would mind waiting, or, if he wished, Grimsley would summon his wife to assist.
Devlin ignored the words. ‘I thought you might have another person nearby this afternoon. I am here to speak with...that person.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Grimsley said and directed him to a curtain. Beyond that Devlin saw a plank door, which hung askew in the frame, causing a thin triangular gap at the top of it.
He rapped and the door creaked open. Her face peeked around the edge and she smiled.
Relief flooded his body.
She stepped back, took his arm and pulled him inside. ‘No one knows I’m here but the shopkeepers and my parents.’
He swept in and put an arm around her waist, pulling her close as he shut the door. ‘No one knows I’m here either, so obviously we’re somewhere else.’
For a second longer than necessary, he held her close, reassuring himself that she still welcomed him as a friend, then he immediately pushed himself away as his body started to long for her.
He turned, examining the room, distracting himself from the realisation that she was so close.
A desk sat in the centre. A stack of ragged volumes sat on each side of her chair, which was missing a slat.
Rachael didn’t need to be in such surroundings and she didn’t have to be. All he could think of was that she preferred this over him, yet she seemed unaware of his displeasure, which didn’t surprise him. It had been unusual for her butler to notice the anger and Devlin’s dismay had faded once he saw her.
He pushed aside the strange emotion of jealousy and let himself be impressed. She was working like an apprentice to learn the trade and no part of it seemed too lowly for her. This would be the person he wanted beside him in a battle.
* * *
‘I expected to find you surrounded by jewels, not dust, ledgers and fixtures.’
‘Jewels at night, mathematicals in the morning and this in the afternoon.’ She swept her arm out to encompass the room, as if she were some sort of sorceress and the surroundings would suddenly turn golden. Instead of gold, the dust only gleamed more.
He saw the tiredness under her eyes and a pang of regret hit him. Not regret that he’d been with her. He’d never feel that. But the knowledge that instead of relieving her burdens, he’d added to them by keeping her awake longer.
But he would not apologise for their lovemaking.
She put a slip of paper in the book on the desk, marking her place, and closed the cover. ‘This was the apprentice’s old room. He wanted to become a silversmith instead and Father let him leave. Now, we order goods from him. Mr Grimsley said a new apprentice isn’t needed now and we can order almost any metal item a customer wants. We are expanding to have more gold wares and we’ll make more from them.’
‘If someone wanted flatware designed, for instance?’ He should leave, but he didn’t want to go and he didn’t want to abandon her.
‘Mr Grimsley would be able to sketch what you described until he had a picture of it to send to be made. That is an easy task. If it weren’t for what you said, about being more visible, I would probably discontinue the jewellery altogether. We make little overall from the baubles, but I’m hoping to change that.’
She paused and he held out his hand. She joined him, her skin delicate against his and filling him with fresh desire.
Even standing surrounded by drabness, she glittered. The excitement in her eyes transferred to him and she took a step and ended up in his arms again.
For a brief moment he held her and savoured every pulse of her closeness. He’d not known the simple solace that could be found in such innocence and that holding Rachael could make him feel a different person. Perhaps that was some of what she’d felt in the night. He hoped, in encouraging her, he’d made her feel her own strength. Her own resilience that hid beneath the surface and would always bring her rising up like a phoenix.
Then, he heard Grimsley’s voice. She’d heard it as well. She drew away and shook her head, lips pressed together.
She found a small box, opened it, and slipped another oversized ring on her finger. He couldn’t understand her taste in jewellery. Again, it was large on her finger. Then she held her hand flat and flicked the side of the metal with her finger and the bauble opened, the top sliding away.
‘It’s for headache powders.’ She spoke softly.
‘I didn’t know you had headaches.’ Their whispers kept them close.
‘I don’t usually. But I sent the silversmiths drawings of poison rings. I asked if they could reproduce it. And I’ve told them if they have any fresh ideas, to please let me know.’ She flashed the ring. ‘I found this one. I didn’t know we had it. This one is rather ghastly, but I’m hoping for smaller designs, mostly using paste stones so it will not be an investment for the customer, but a novelty. Beautiful rings, however, that would stand alone on their own merit. My plan is that unusual items may bring customers in and then the other wares will tempt them while they’re here.’
He took her fingers, drawing her near, impressed with her delicate hands.
‘I don’t plan to have many for view because I want the women to have the option of having something no one else has seen.’ She reached out and when she touched his chest, it was as if they’d embraced.
He could no longer study the ring and he didn’t care, reassured to be near her again. ‘You think ladies will be interested in something so macabre?’
She nodded, clasping him, causing him to feel that he surrounded her as snugly as the ring fitted on her finger.
‘It’s like having a surprise within a jewel,’ she said.
The words would have fitted her as well.
‘Something different and I am planning to have a simple matching necklace and earrings to sell with it. I want them to be as unique as possible, so the ladies will have something to show and compare with their friends. If it goes well, I may offer bracelets which can hold a note, or a drawing or lock of hair from a loved one. I have two already on order.’
He could feel her excitement and the rush of enthusiasm she had for the project, and it matched his own feelings for her.
‘It will also give me something to talk about when I am with others if I have one noticeable trinket. Meeting new people will be easier. I’ve instructed Grimsley that the silversmiths must use the finest craftsmanship and if the container jewels sell well, we will be able to use gold.’
‘What if someone really uses one of the rings for poison?’
‘Well, I would assume they can use one of the spoons I sell for the same thing. And they hold three or four times as much. And a silver teapot could be used for poison.’
‘And as a weapon. Remember Father’s chipped tooth.’
She put her fingertips to her lips. ‘It would be fun to design a teapot with a dagger in the lid, I suppose, but again I don’t want anyone to be serious about using the wares destructively.’
She closed the remaining ledger that had been open. ‘We are pla
nning other unique items. I saw a walking stick with a spyglass as a handle and have ordered one. I asked Grimsley to draw a horse’s head on a cane to suggest a man might have a walking stick with his favourite animal’s likeness at the handle. If we sell one-of-a-kind items people can talk about with their friends...well, the uniqueness may cause people to speak favourably about all our wares.’
‘I had no idea you would take this so seriously so quickly. And have good plans a man of affairs might not even imagine. I’m looking forward to how your suggestions will improve the business.’
‘It is like a puzzle to see what will work and I think it’s fascinating. Grimsley has some ideas and we’ve made several lists, trying to work out the costs of each idea and the possible profits. We’re also trying to plan large, impactful items that might catch a customer’s eye. Grimsley said they might notice the bigger item and carry that affection to a smaller thing closer to the amount they can spend. It is like having one wine for sale for an enormous cost, then having many lower-priced wines that don’t seem as extravagant next to the one. And all equally matched in taste.’
She turned, picking up a huge silver urn, running her fingers over the metal. ‘This has been here since Mr Grimsley started. It hasn’t sold and it might be best hidden under a bed. We thought we could send it to the former apprentice and have many smaller items made from the silver. In fact—’ She pulled out another piece of paper. ‘Mr Grimsley prepared a list of things we can use to turn into sales with little expense. He believes it will help us while we increase patronage.’
Devlin was almost jealous of the urn and of the affection she had developed for the business. He didn’t want to be relegated to the background of her life. He wanted to be beside her, experiencing successes and failures with her.
He twirled her around, wanting to capture her attention. ‘What future plans do you have in the social world?’
‘Tomorrow Mother and I are to take tea with the Duchess. I hope she is not overly caustic.’
Caustic.
‘Highwood?’ He raised a brow in question and Rachael agreed.
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