Ducal Encounters 01 - At the Duke's Discretion

by Wendy Soliman

  “Both men excelled, but my father showed exceptional ability. His reputation grew, and he set up his own business, first in small premises in Soho, then in Bond Street. He became quite well known. Very well known. There was hardly a society lady who did not crave a Brooke original, and as his reputation grew so too did his fortune. His company was craved in all sorts of elevated circles he might not ordinarily have frequented.” She paused to moisten her lips. “That is how he met my mother. Her father commissioned a pendant for her birthday. She was so delighted with it that she insisted upon meeting Papa and thanking him in person.”

  “Would you like some water, Miss Brooke?” the duke asked politely.

  “No, I would prefer to talk about this. I want to talk about this. It needs to be spoken about.” She addressed the comment to Lord Amos, but might as well have saved her breath for all the reaction she got from him. “My mother, unlike me, is very beautiful. If you listen to her on the subject, she will tell you she was feted by lords and heirs to great fortunes when she was a girl, but she chose my father, causing her family to disinherit her.”

  “Her family?” the duke clarified.

  “Oh, she is the youngest child of Viscount Woolford of Hertfordshire. The youngest and the only girl out of six. She was spoiled, allowed to have her way in everything, and so did not believe her father was sincere in his intention to disinherit her. Besides, she was in love with my father, or so she believed, and love would conquer all.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course, it did not, and when she found her father was in earnest, and society’s doors were closed to her as a consequence, she missed what she had once taken for granted.”

  The duke grunted. “I can well imagine.”

  “To begin with, the marriage went well. Papa was feted by society and Mama basked in reflected glory, enjoying all the parties and entertainments they were invited to. Mama still expected to live in style, ever hopeful she would be granted a reprieve by her family, especially if she and Papa, the golden couple of the moment, were seen in all the right places.”

  “But the viscount held firm?” the earl suggested.

  “Yes, I have never met him, but I understand he is the last word in stubbornness. Mama had brought his family’s name into disrepute by marrying a tradesman and could not be forgiven.” Crista sighed. “Anyway, I was born, and my sister Amelia arrived four years later. We had the best of everything, including a good education, but I spent every spare second in my father’s workshop, fascinated by what he did, learning at his knee. My mother did not approve, of course. She considered it no place for a lady of quality, but did not mind living off the proceeds since she had Amelia to pamper, offsetting her disappointment in me. Amelia is every bit as beautiful and, excuse me, as self-centred as my mother.”

  “The life of a famous jeweller’s wife lost its appeal?” Lord Romsey suggested.

  “She bankrupted him,” Crista replied starkly. “Nothing he supplied her with was good enough, and she always demanded more. My mother was my father’s one weakness. He never fell out of love with her, and never stopped trying to live up to her expectations of him. I lost all respect for him in that regard, but loved him for who he was and what we managed to create together in his workshop.”

  “You inherited his skill?” the duke asked.

  “Yes, I like to think so but, of course, a female making a mark for herself in a man’s world is out of the question, so I cannot flaunt my talents, such as they are.”

  “Your father ran out of money,” Lord Romsey said. “What happened then?”

  “He lost the Bond Street shop through an unfortunate misunderstanding about three years ago. Someone he did a commission for claimed he had used a fake stone. He had not, of course, the idea was quite preposterous. I subsequently discovered…” Feeling embarrassed, Crista paused to clear her throat. “I subsequently discovered the commission had been for the daughter of a widower who was enamoured of my mother. I do not care to think about what she got up to in private, but I do know she would never go so far as to leave my father for another man. She could not withstand the scandal, especially as she still lived in hope of being reunited with her family. Anyway, I have always believed the gentleman made that false claim, and ensured society knew of it, to ruin my father and increase his chances of persuading my mother to leave him. Mind you, Papa was ruined anyway. Mama had seen to that with her extravagant ways.” She looked up at the duke. “May I have that water now, please?”

  The duke poured her a glass, handed it to her, and she took several sips, taking a moment to calm her turbulent emotions.

  “Thank you,” she said, placing the glass aside. “About a year ago, he was approached by someone who suggested he carry out private commissions using gem stones provided by that person. I advised him against it most forcibly because it sounded highly suspect to me, but Papa was desperate and was sorely tempted. Mama became involved, recognised the monetary rewards and persuaded him to do it. Mind you, he knew his own worth. Anyone could make the sorts of items they required, but if they were marked with the distinctive Brooke insignia their value increased exponentially. He drove a hard bargain and forced the people to draw up a written agreement.”

  “The devil he did! Excuse me, Miss Brooke, but do you have a copy of that agreement?” the earl asked.

  “Unfortunately not.” Crista lifted her shoulders. “If I did, I would not be in this farrago.”

  “They are forcing you to help them?” Lord Amos asked, turning to look at her and speaking for the first time.

  “Well, of course they are! I hope you do not think I would do such a thing of my own volition.”

  When he made no reply, Crista surmised he very likely did.

  “Do you know the names of the other parties involved?” Lord Romsey asked.

  “No. Papa told me he had signed the document, and I believe him; but I never saw it, or anyone involved. Papa tried to protect me. Much good it did him.”

  “But now he is dead,” the duke said. “Murdered.”

  “Now he is murdered,” Crista agreed.

  “Why did they kill him if they needed you to replace him, Miss Brooke?” Lord Romsey asked.

  “Because he could no longer live with what he had become,” Crista replied bleakly, fighting to hold back tears. “He told them he was not willing to do anything else for them, and the agreement he had signed gave him leave to cancel whenever he wished. The laughed in his face, of course, and told him what I already suspected. That contract was not worth the parchment it was written on. He was as involved in the wretched business as they were, they had his signature to prove it, and he would do as he was told or pay the consequences.” She pleated her fingers nervously in her lap. “He thought that would mean public exposure, and my mother told him he could not possibly risk that.”

  “Your mother is still alive?” Lord Amos asked.

  “Why yes, of course she is. Why would she not be?”

  “Oh, I just assumed…you never mentioned her, and so I thought you came to live here with your uncle because you had nowhere else to go.”

  “No, my mother and Amelia live in Chelsea.”

  “I see.” It was the duke who replied. “You were telling us about your father’s decision to distance himself from his illegal activities.”

  Crista winced at the harsh words, even though they were entirely true. “I heard Mama and Papa arguing about it. I remember quite vividly, because they never argued. My father always gave mother what she wanted. Anyway,” she added, staring at the rug beneath her feet without seeing it, “Papa stuck to his guns, never imagining they would follow through with their threat to expose his involvement. I mean, how could they without exposing themselves?”

  “And so they murdered him instead,” the duke said softly.

  “Yes, they murdered him in a very public, very gruesome fashion, as though they knew they could get away with it. Which, of course, they did.” She impatiently dashed aside an errant tear. “Everyone supposes P
apa was set upon by cutthroats and was killed when he would not give up his purse. But in actual fact, they could not risk allowing him to live once he decided not to help them. He knew too much and might give them up.”

  “How did you become involved, Miss Brooke?” Lord Romsey asked.

  “That was unfortunate. Papa had a legitimate commission half-finished when he died. I felt I owed it to his memory to complete it on his behalf.” She gave a mirthless chuckle. “They say a good deed never goes unpunished, with good reason. By the purest of bad luck, you see, someone involved with the stolen gems found out about it and discovered I had made it.” Crista frowned. “That is the part I don’t understand. No one, or almost no one, knew what I was capable of. Mama insisted upon that. God forbid that her father should hear of it. So how did they know?” She spread her hands. “Anyway, they confronted me and forced me into the situation you now find me in.”

  “You could have refused,” Lord Amos said in a castigating tone.

  “Oh yes, of course I could!” She sent him a damning glance, wondering how she could ever have been attracted to someone so unfeeling, so unwilling to acknowledge the impossible situation she had found herself in. “And finished up like Papa.”

  “They would not−”

  “That is what Papa thought. Besides, they have that document Papa signed and threatened to make it public. That would ruin his reputation and ruin my sister too. I do not like her very much, but she is still my sister and is on the brink of matrimony. It is a highly advantageous match for her.” She scoffed. “Mama is in alt, naturally, but her intended’s mother is far from happy about her son’s determination to have Amelia, the daughter of a jeweller who was careless enough to allow himself to be murdered. The slightest whiff of further scandal attached to the family name would give her the excuse she seeks to insist her son not go through with it.”

  “I take it you came to Shawford in an effort to evade the rogues,” the duke said.

  “Yes, and that was another miscalculation. I did refuse to work with them at first and came here for the precise reason you suggest, your grace.” Crista glowered at Lord Amos as she spoke. “They did not know about Uncle Charles, since he and my father have different names, and because Uncle Charles has lived quietly in this part of the world for several decades. I thought I could hide away here until they gave up on me. If they could not find me, there would be no reason for them to expose Papa’s activities and ruin Amelia. Anyway, they followed me here, threatened Uncle Charles…” She shrugged. “They left me with no choice.”

  “I am terribly sorry,” the duke said.

  “Thank you. It is very generous of you to say so, given the trouble I have visited upon you.” Crista turned towards Lord Amos, waiting for him to offer his sympathy also. He remained stonily silent, the vertical lines in his forehead deepened by the intensity of his frown. “I have made a complete mull of things. Uncle Charles has been dragged into this sorry business, and I see it eating away at him a little more each day.” She sighed. “How could I have been so stupid?”

  “The man Reece is your only contact?” Lord Romsey asked.

  “Yes.” She shook off her self-loathing and faced the earl as she answered him. “He is the only one I have ever seen. But he knows I have reached the end of my tether, much as my father did. I think that is why they have promised to leave me alone if I perform one last service for them.”

  “What service?” asked the duke and Lord Romsey together.

  “They have some enormous diamonds. One of them is over twenty carets.”

  “From the Turkish Empire,” Lord Romsey said, his face alight with interest. “We were wondering what had become of those.”

  “They require me to make up a suite of jewellery to their specification using the stones. After that, they have assured me I will never hear from them again. I am not sure if I believe them but the stones are magnificent. I have never seen anything better. They have obviously been holding them back, waiting for the right buyer prepared to pay the king’s ransom they are worth.”

  “Do you have the stones in your possession?” Lord Romsey asked.

  “No, I have seen them but only have the sketches. Reece will keep the stones until I have made up the settings and am ready for them.”

  The duke and Lord Romsey shared a glance. “Then if you wish to revenge yourself on them for your father’s murder, and for what they have done to you and your uncle, perhaps we can use that against them.”

  Lord Amos sent her a condemning glance. “How can you be so sure−”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  That he, of all people, could think she chose to be dishonest caused pangs of disillusionment to rip through her, twisting and tearing at her insides until the pain threatened to overwhelm her. His attitude of aloof disbelief should not matter to her, nor should it surprise her. The upper classes had a way of conducting themselves that didn’t allow for human frailty. She and Lord Amos were strangers, living in different worlds. His opinion was of no consequence, and yet the crushing disappointment she felt threatened to suffocate her. A tense, oppressive silence stretched dark and defining between them. Crista knew she could get angry, sob her heart out and beg him to believe her, or absent herself from the fray with what dignity she still retained, intact.

  She chose the third option.

  “Excuse me, your grace,” she said tersely. “I have great need for fresh air.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Reece arrived late at the Park, mingling with the throng when they had all consumed a few libations and were too intent upon enjoying themselves to take much notice of him. He had not originally intended to come at all given the responsibility he bore for the priceless diamonds entrusted to his care. He could hardly carry them about for fear of the pickpockets who were bound to frequent such a crowded event. But since there was not a living soul left in Shawford that afternoon, the compelling need he felt to keep a watchful eye on Miss Brooke caused him to decide the stones would be safe where he had hidden them.

  He had not told his employer as much, but he felt very uneasy about the changes in Crista Brooke since his attempts to become better acquainted with her on the common had ended so badly. She had made no secret of the fact she disliked him. Now she was openly scathing in his company, which only made Reece want her more. He wondered where she had found the confidence to defy him quite so obviously. She knew what had happened to her father when he lost his nerve. Perhaps Lord Amos had offered her his protection, damn the man! Reece curled his upper lip. Just because he was rich and titled, he seemed to think he could move in on Reece’s property. That was the gentry for you. They had money, influence, and arrogance enough to assume they could lay claim to whomsoever caught their eye.

  Never mind, there was plenty of Miss Brooke to go around. Sheridan would tire of her once he got what he wanted from her. Then it would be Reece’s turn. Once the diamond jewellery had been made, his masters would have no further use for her, but Reece most certainly would. He felt himself hardening at the prospect. There was just something about her, about the way in which she deliberately flouted his authority that fired his blood.

  He strolled around the periphery of the cricket game, wondering where she could be. He couldn’t see her with her uncle, or any of the other Shawford residents. Why would she be? She had gone out of her way to keep herself apart from everyone except Chesney since her arrival here. He glanced towards the ladies seated between the two sets of villagers and growled loudly enough to attract attention to himself. What the devil! He shaded his eyes against the sun, convinced the light must be playing tricks on him. But no, there was no mistake. Miss Cristobel Brooke was seated with the ladies of the house, laughing with them as though she was their equal, and looking entirely at her ease.

  A fission of concern heated Reece’s blood. Lifting her skirts for Lord Amos was one thing, but being accepted by his family was altogether another. Surely, she hadn’t been stupid enough to say anythin
g? No, she wouldn’t take the chance. She was too concerned about her family, and her uncle’s precious reputation, to take the risk. She had gone out of her way not to mingle with the residents of Shawford for fear of being questioned about her reasons for being in the village, or because she was ashamed of what she had become. Reece shrugged. Who knew how a woman’s mind worked? Now, here she was, bold as you like, showing herself off to the entire district.

  Reece scratched his head, relieved his employer had not attended today. He would not be pleased by Miss Brooke’s public exhibitionism. Reece was downright worried about it. As soon as the cricket was over, and he could get anywhere near her, he would make sure she remembered whom she worked for and what responsibilities rested with her. It wouldn’t be much longer now. They were in the last over. Now it was the last ball. Reece smirked. It looked as though the gentry were in for a thrashing. Reece joined in the good-natured jeers from the villagers as Lord Vince ran in to bowl the final ball. The jeers turned to wild cheering when the ball sailed towards the boundary. The villagers were assured of victory now.

  Except…good lord above, what the devil did she think she was doing? All the other ladies took evasive action, but Miss Brooke remained sitting precisely where she had been for the entire match, oblivious to the warnings shouted at her. At the last moment, when Reece had been sure the ball would strike her head, very likely killing her, she stood up, crossed the boundary onto the playing field and caught the ball one-handed. The silence that greeted her action was followed by applause and loud cheering.

  Reece was too stunned to react in any way. His employer would hear about this, and Reece would be in trouble for permitting the incident to occur. How in the world he was supposed to keep control over one as independently-minded as Miss Brooke was a conundrum Reece had been struggling with this past month. Perdition, if he had thought she flaunted herself before, it was nothing to the attention she had drawn to herself with that catch. He heard people asking who she was, and it wasn’t long before both sets of villagers learned she was Chesney’s niece.