Ducal Encounters 01 - At the Duke's Discretion Page 10

  Giving herself a mental shake, she wiped her moist eyes, unwilling to allow Reece to reduce her to tears. She returned her attention to the duchess’s necklace with a sense of renewed purpose. At least it was honest work, but the pride and pleasure she would normally feel at creating such a beautiful piece was lost beneath concerns for herself and her uncle. She only had four more days before the party, and there was still much to do to complete the suite of jewellery. Her own problems would just have to wait.

  With renewed determination, Crista reheated her soldering iron and returned to work.

  ***

  Reece exchanged a few brief words with Chesney. He was his usual curmudgeonly self, but it was apparent he knew nothing of Reece’s interlude with Miss Brooke on the common the previous evening. It was as Reece had thought. She had chosen not to tell him for fear of oversetting him. Since no avenging Sheridans had descended upon him, it was safe to assume she had not confided in Lord Amos, either. Now, in the cold light of day, far from being relieved not to have been exposed, Reece felt only frustration at having failed to put Miss Brooke firmly in her place. By reminding her who was in charge of their association, he had hoped to see her cower. By fighting with him, she had only succeeded in strengthening his determination to have her. And, one way or another, that was precisely what he would do. The day had yet to dawn when a mere slip of a girl with an inflated opinion of her own worth would get the better of Edward Reece.

  He walked briskly through the village, looking over his shoulder frequently to ensure he was not being followed. That morning at the Crown, he had received a highly unusual message to attend his master at his home. Usually, they met on the same day each week, always at night. Reece wondered what could have happened to cause alterations to their arrangement. He was confident he had done nothing to give dissatisfaction. If Miss Brooke had not spoken of his actions to her uncle or to Lord Amos, then no one else could possibly know of the incident. Besides, the man he was about to keep an appointment with had given him permission to keep her in line, had he not?

  As far as Reece could tell, he reached his destination without attracting any particular attention to himself. His knock was answered by Mary, who sent him a cheeky smile as she ushered him into the house.

  “The master is expecting you, sir. He said you are to go straight through to his study.”

  “Why don’t you come down to the Crown when you finish your duties tonight?” he asked her. “It’s your evening off, is it not?”

  She giggled. “I might.”

  “Ah, you little minx.” Reece handed her his hat and cane and grinned for the first time that day. “You mean to tease me, I see.”

  “You’d best not keep them waiting,” Marry replied, fluttering her lashes and giggling harder.

  “Them?” Reece’s smile abruptly faded. “There is someone with your master.”

  “A gentleman arrived an hour ago in a fine coach. I have never seen him before, but they’re waiting for you. They asked just now if you had arrived. Off with you now before you get me into trouble.”

  Reece tapped on the library door and then walked through it, a little concerned by this unexpected development.

  “Ah, Reece, there you are.” His employer looked up from the chair he occupied beside the fire.

  “Good morning, sir,” he replied evenly, looking towards the gentleman in the other chair, waiting for an introduction that was not forthcoming.

  “Matters are moving on faster than we anticipated,” his employer said, not offering Reece a chair, but leaving him standing like a recalcitrant schoolboy summoned to the headmaster’s study to answer for his misdemeanours. “For reasons that need not concern you, we have a special commission we require Miss Brooke to undertake for us.” He paused, presumably for effect. “Very special indeed.”

  “I hear she has been giving you cause for concern,” the other gentleman said, curling his upper lip in evident disapproval.

  “She will do as she is told, sir.”

  “So I should damned well think. How difficult can it be to keep an old man and a slip of a girl in line?”

  “I can assure you, sir, that−”

  “I don’t require your assurances. I require results,” the gentleman snapped. “Especially now. This is the ultimate commission.”

  The man stood up, produced a box from his pocket and spread the contents on a small side table. Reece gasped when some of the biggest diamonds he had ever seen rolled across the black velvet cloth and came to rest in a sparkling display of cut, clarity and crystal clear colour. Reece knew little about jewellery, but couldn’t fail to be impressed. Their value could keep a man in style for the rest of his days.

  “We have others working for us, but none as good as Miss Brooke,” the gentleman said in a hushed voice, as though paying homage to the jewels spread before them. “She can reproduce her father’s work without anyone being able to tell the difference, which is why she is so valuable to us and why I wouldn’t trust anyone else with these stones.”

  “Are you absolutely sure she will not try to sabotage them?” Reece’s employer asked.

  “She would not dare,” Reece replied with more conviction than he actually felt.

  “She had better not,” the other gentleman said, “or I shall hold you personally responsible.”

  “What instructions am I to give her?” Reece asked.

  The stranger produced sketches of a necklace, bangles and earrings and spread them across an adjoining table. “The largest stone is for the centrepiece of the necklace,” he said. “But I am sure it will be obvious to the girl.”

  Reece nodded, hoping that would be the case because the sketches meant nothing to him.

  “You can tell her from us, once she completes the work to our satisfaction, we will leave her be. That ought to concentrate her mind.”

  “How quickly do you need this done, sir?” Reece asked.

  “Immediately. The gentleman purchasing them is in a hurry. Given the amount he is spending, we cannot afford to keep him waiting.”

  “She is making a suite of jewellery for the Duchess of Winchester’s birthday,” Reece said. “She will not put that aside for any consideration and frankly, if she does, it might cause the Sheridans to ask awkward questions.”

  “Damnation!” The man thumped his fist against the arm of the chair he had resumed sitting in. “I cannot afford any delays.”

  “It would be wise to allow her to finish the duchess’s commission,” Reece’s employer said in a considering tone. “It will only take four more days.”

  “She should not have been permitted to take the commission in the first place.”

  “That was…er, unfortunate,” Reece said, shuffling his feet when he felt the full force of the gentleman’s displeasure focused upon his profile. “I was unable to prevent it from happening without raising suspicions.”

  “All right,” said the stranger with a prolonged sigh. “Go and see her right now. Take the stones and drawings to her and explain what is needed.” He carefully replaced the stones in their case. Each one had an individual space into which it fit exactly. “After she has finished the duchess’s pieces, she has a week to complete this commission. If she does not, or if she damages or loses the stones, remind her of the consequences.” The man stood up, grasped his lapels, and scowled. “For all of her family, but especially for her.”

  “I am sure I don’t need to remind you how important this is, for us all,” Reece’s master emphasised, standing also. “There will be a healthy bonus for you, if you can see this through smoothly. But, if you fail us,” he added in a tone of great gravitas, “you know what to expect. Allow her to see the stones, but keep them with you until she is ready to set them. Never let them out of your sight—not for any consideration.”

  Reece’s hands were shaking as he took the case of stones and sketches from the stranger. His master had not referred to him by name, but he was most definitely a gentleman. He exuded an air of authority
that implied he was accustomed to total obedience. He was a little desperate too, unless Reece mistook the matter. Why else would he risk coming here and allowing Reece to see him? All the other commissions had come through his master, and the people behind the scheme−this gentleman, presumably−had taken pains to remain anonymous. It made no sense to abandon caution just because their operation appeared to be reaching its zenith. Reece did not flatter himself the man had done so because Reece had proved himself trustworthy.

  Recognising he was being dismissed, Reece bowed to both gentlemen and was greeted in the hallway by Mary, holding his hat and stick and sporting a cheeky grin.

  “Later, Mary my love,” Reece said absently, taking his things and leaving the house at a fast pace. He would enjoy a modicum of revenge by going immediately to Miss Brooke, explaining what was required of her, and putting the fear of God into her just in case she decided to do anything foolhardy.

  As he strode along, keeping his hand protectively over the pocket containing the diamonds, he only hoped his threats would be sufficient to keep the increasingly contrary young woman in line.

  Chapter Nine

  “Magnificent, my dear.” Uncle Charles examined the duchess’s completed suite of jewellery closely through a jeweller’s loupe and smiled at Crista. “The workmanship and the attention to detail is quite exquisite. You have excelled yourself. Your skill now exceeds both your father’s and my own.”

  “Oh, Uncle Charles, that is not true.”

  “You do not look so very satisfied with the results, Crista. What is it?”

  “You know what it is, Uncle.” She sighed. “I can no longer take pride in honest work well executed because my conscience is not clear.”

  “Yes, I understand very well.” He sighed. “But don’t be downhearted. At least we are to be released from further obligation once you have set those wretchedly ostentatious diamonds. That will save us the trouble of finding a way out of this situation, and the rest of the family’s safety is guaranteed.”

  Crista made an unladylike sound at the back of her throat. “The rest of the family deserve no such consideration.”

  “Perhaps not, but even so, we−”

  “Besides, how can we be so sure they will keep their word?” Crista paced the length of the workshop, too anguished to sit still; too tired to think coherently. She had been working fourteen hour days to finish this jewellery, and now she had to start on the diamonds for Reece. The mere thought of it was enough to exhaust her. “Besides, I had rather set my heart on exposing them, regardless of the damage it would do to us. Were it not for you, then I would certainly find a way to do precisely that.”

  “You must not worry about me, my dear. Instead, I must ask you to promise you will not do anything rash. I think we can assume they will let us be after this because those stones are obviously the best they have. I have certainly never seen their like before.”

  “No.” Crista shook her head. “Nor I.”

  “They have built up their clientele slowly, teasing them with the distinctive pieces your father made before you took over. They have been careful not to flood the market, but have found someone who wants to flaunt the diamonds and cannot resist. They must know they will be noticed, questions will be asked, and they will be compelled to lie low.”

  “Asking questions will not serve since the people behind the scheme are too wily to reveal their identities. It is Reece, or people like us, who will get caught.”

  “Yes, but even so−”

  “And I still don’t trust them to keep their word. They have given us no reason to believe anything they say.”

  “That is true, but what choice do we have?” Uncle Charles spread his hands, palms upward. “Besides, they have promised to return the documents your father signed, and once they do, they will have no further hold over us.”

  “Even if they speak the truth, it doesn’t seem right they should get away with what they have done. The jewels we have handled are stolen, Uncle. They belong to someone who must be missing them, and by handling them, even against our will, we have become no better than common criminals ourselves.”

  “Ah, Crista. Pray do not fret over that which you cannot mend. Your principles do you credit, my love, but even supposing you decided to expose the scheme, whom would you tell?”

  Crista bit her lip in frustration. “Well, there must be someone who would believe me. I am sure the duke would not be at all happy if he knew what was happening beneath his nose here in Shawford.”

  “But that would ruin my reputation, lose me the duke’s patronage, and cause more friction between the villages. It is better the duke remains in ignorance rather than have additional problems visited upon him. Besides, it will not be for much longer, and then we can all go back to the way we once were. Or rather I can. You, my dear, will be free to live your own life in whatever way you see fit.”

  Perhaps, Crista thought, expelling a slow, frustrated breath, but she would never be at peace with her conscience if the rogues got away with their wicked deeds. “Yes,” she replied. “That is why I have not said anything.”

  “I am so sorry you are having to deal with all this at a time when you ought to enjoy being young, my dear. I hold myself responsible.”

  “You? Oh, Uncle!” Crista threw her arms around his neck. “You are not culpable. My father’s greed, powered by my mother’s ambitions, are at the root of this problem.”

  “Yes, well, it does no good to dwell upon that. Your father paid a high price for his misguided actions.” He patted her hand. “Run along upstairs and rest. It is getting late and you look exhausted. We shall enjoy a quiet dinner together, and then tomorrow afternoon, we have the party to look forward to.”

  “I have decided not to go, Uncle. There is too much for me to do here.”

  Uncle Charles fixed her with a steely gaze. “If you do not go, nor shall I.”

  Crista threw up her hands, smiling through her anguish. “You are the most terrible manipulator,” she said, shaking a finger at him. “You know very well you have just said the only thing to change my mind. My conscious is already quite overburdened enough without adding the curtailment of your pleasures to my tally of misdeeds.”

  “It will do us both good to forget our troubles for a few hours.”

  Crista saw no reason to point out she could not forget them, even for a few minutes.

  “Yes, perhaps it will, and I am curious to see how the jewels are received. To say nothing of your beautiful chalice.” She ran her fingertips over the finished piece of silver. “I should like to see the duchess wearing the rubies. Although I don’t suppose she will do so for an afternoon garden party. Pity. Even so, if she takes pleasure from them, it might just reignite my pride in a commission well executed,” she added, more in hope than expectation.

  The bell over the shop door jangled.

  “That will most likely be Lord Amos come to collect these things.”

  Crista’s foolish heart leapt at the sound of his name, and she was conscious of colour flooding her cheeks. Fortunately, Uncle Charles took himself off to the shop and could not have noticed her reaction. Crista placed herself behind the door, pathetically eager to hear his voice.

  “Good day to you, Chesney,” said that voice.

  “Lord Amos. Your timing could not be better. Your commissions are just now ready for collection. If you would be so good as to take a seat, I shall pack them up for you. I shall be but a moment.”

  “Take all the time you need. I am in no particular hurry.”

  Crista kept well clear of the door when Uncle Charles returned to the workroom, fearful Lord Amos might catch a glimpse of her in her boy’s clothing. She passed the jewellery, nestled in a velvet-lined box, to her uncle. He took it with one hand and the chalice with the other. Crista stood behind the door to open it for him, but did not completely close it behind him. She peeped through the gap as Uncle Charles placed the commissions on the counter in front of his lordship and slowly lifted
the lid of the box containing her creations.

  Crista knew she had done some of her best work, but also experienced a moment’s anxiety as Lord Amos bent his dark head over the jewellery, taking an inordinate amount of time to examine it. Even though she could not take public credit, she so wanted him to approve. It would be enough to know he admired what he saw. After what seemed like an eternity, he lifted his head again. Instead of looking at Uncle Charles, his glance rested on the door to the workroom. Crista panicked. Had be noticed her somehow? Had she made a noise and given herself away?

  “Exquisite,” he said, addressing the comment to the door behind which she stood, as though talking directly to her. “You are to be congratulated, Chesney. It is one of your finest creations.”

  “I cannot take much of the credit.”

  Lord Amos continued to look at her door. “In that case, you must ensure the credit is directed to the right quarter.”

  Crista stifled a gasp as panic gripped her. He knew, or at least suspected. But how could he? How had they given themselves away? They had been so cautious. Dear God, what if he said something? That would mean Crista’s full history would become public knowledge, which in turn would put paid to Reece’s activities. She would be glad about that, of course, but the consequences for her family, to say nothing about her own situation, would be unendurable. Were that not the case, she never would have allowed herself to be dragged into the affair. Can I trust you, Lord Amos? Strangely enough, her panic subsided, and she intuitively understood he would keep her secret, at least for now. She did not need him to do so for long. Once she had done this final commission for Reece, Amelia would be safe, and it would no longer matter.

  “I sincerely hope the duchess will take pleasure from her gift, my lord,” Uncle Charles replied. “That will be credit enough for all concerned.”