Ducal Encounters 01 - At the Duke's Discretion (12 page)

“Ah, the joys of being a duke,” Nate said teasingly.

“Little brother, you have no idea.”

“Nor do I wish to find out.”

“Me neither,” Amos agreed with alacrity. “Speaking of which, hurry up, do your duty and get leg-shackled, Zach. Being your heir apparent holds no appeal for me.”

“Ungrateful coves!”

Grinning, Zach pushed his horse into a canter. The others followed his example, and they raced neck and neck all the way back to the stables.

***

Crista was up at first light, determined to make up for the time she had not spent in the workshop the previous evening. She was equally determined to banish all thoughts of Lord Amos from her head. He had helped her, she had thanked him, and that was an end to the matter. There was no reason why their paths need cross again. She ignored the dull ache this realisation caused her, reminding herself she had far greater concerns to focus upon.

Her uncle was in the shop, attending to a customer, when the back door opened and the representative of those concerns walked in. Crista tensed, but did not look up, and concentrated on the complicated filigree she was constructing.

“Good morning,” Reece said politely.

Crista could not believe his audacity. He had tried to brutally assault her the previous evening. Crista still felt cold all over whenever she allowed her mind to dwell upon what could have happened. But this morning he was behaving as though nothing untoward had occurred. She remained stubbornly silent, until he moved in front of her, blocking her light.

“I cannot see what I am doing if you stand there.”

“I could think of no other way of gaining your attention.”

“I have nothing to say to you.” She dealt him a chilling glance before immediately returning her attention to her work. “You disgust me.”

“You seem to forget you work for my masters.”

“I am unlikely ever to forget that misfortune.” She carefully heated her filigree arches from a distance so the solder didn’t blow off the wire. “But since you raised the matter, who
are
your masters? Whose tune do you dance to? I would like to know who to blame for my circumstances, aside from you.”

“I cannot tell you that.”

“Because you do not know?”

“Because you certainly do not need to.”

It was as Crista thought. He didn’t know himself. Damnation. That did not help her in the least. If she fell on her sword, metaphorically speaking, and disgraced her own reputation as well as her uncle’s, she could take Reece down with her. But he would be replaced, and the operation moved elsewhere with some other helpless craftsman coerced into doing their bidding. No, she needed to know who the brains behind the operation was so she could destroy him also.

“You could be well paid for your work,” Reece said. “If only you were not so stubborn.”

“We have had this discussion before. I am not a criminal and want no monetary gain for being forced to act like one.”

“The streets are full of people with fine principles.” A mirthless chuckle rumbled in Reece’s throat. “However, it is for you to decide whether or not you wish to be paid. Regardless, you will do as you are told, or the consequences don’t bear thinking about.”

He was strutting about, emphasising his point by banging his cane on the floor, sounding a little desperate. She chanced a glance at him and was surprised by what she saw. He was no longer quite so well-groomed and looked as though he had not slept well. Perhaps he had seen Lord Amos ride to her rescue. Now that she considered the matter, she was sure he must have. Why had that thought not occurred to her before now? Because her mind had been taken up with Lord Amos and the most extraordinary feelings he engendered within her, of course. Still, it gave her considerable satisfaction to imagine Reece must be worried about what she had or had not said to his lordship. Perhaps she had found a tiny chink in his armour.

“I will do as I see fit.” Crista tossed her head. “My advice is not to push me too far, or you might discover I push back harder than you might suppose.”

“And I would strongly advise you not to rebel against the people I represent.” There was a hard edge to Reece’s voice. “They are powerful, ruthless, and will act swiftly against those who seek to dissent. Think of what happened to your father.”

“I have agreed to work for you.” Crista put her soldering iron aside and treated him to her most disdainful assault glare. “But I think it only fair to warn you, if you lay so much as one finger on me ever again, or try anything like the despicable attack you orchestrated last night, I
will
have my revenge.” Her hand hovered over the still hot soldering iron. “Do we understand one another?”

When his eyes narrowed and his face turned puce with rage, Crista wondered if she had pushed him beyond his endurance in much the same way as he had driven her. She received her answer when he took a step towards her and raised his cane.

“That is precisely the reaction I would expect from a bully and tyrant,” Crista said, quelling her anxiety and imbuing her tone with a wealth of disdain. “I dare say it makes you feel invincible to beat members of the weaker sex.”

She was rewarded by an intensified glower and a tense, oppressive silence. He continued to wave his cane about, and she thought he would actually strike her with it. Part of her hoped he would, then she could retaliate, and this
arrangement
between them would come to an end, leaving the pieces to fall where they may. Crista was almost beyond caring. She was doing this for her sister’s sake, but the ungrateful child had not once contacted Crista to see how she was bearing up. She deserved whatever fate befell her, but her uncle most decidedly did not, so she must not allow her temper to overcome common sense.

At the last moment, Reece lowered the stick, breathing heavily, his eyes still shimmering with rage. “God save me from opinionated females,” he muttered fervently.

“If you don’t care for my society,” she replied in a sweetly sarcastic tone, “that situation can easily be remedied.”

“That it can. Don’t imagine you can’t outgrow your usefulness.”

“My, my, are you reduced to threating me?” She folded her arms across her torso and sent him a teasing smile designed to antagonise. “How disheartening to be so out of control.”

“I have an engagement,” he said abruptly.

“Then don’t let me detain you.”

“Have a care, Miss Brooke,” he said, pulling open the door connecting to the shop and disappearing through it.

“Or what?” Crista said to his departing back. “You need me, and you know it.”

All the fight drained out of her when the door closed behind him. She fell back onto her stool, leaned her elbows on the workbench and dropped her head into her hands, close to tears of despair. Dear God, she couldn’t take much more of this. Really, she could not. Why were they so determined to use her? It was a rhetorical question. Of course she knew why. Even so, there had to be other jewellers who would willingly participate in their scheme and accept the payment she stubbornly refused to take. A willing worker was worth ten pressed into service, surely?

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.”