by Amelia Grey
As casually as she could, Susannah said, “I noticed on your shop window that it says you deal in jewelry, but I don’t see any here in your shop.”
He lifted the spectacles from his nose and laid them on his desk. He smiled cunningly and said, “Oh, my, yes, Duchess, I have some exceptional gems and gold pieces. I acquire precious stones from all over the world, but of course because of their value I must keep them in the safe in my office. I’m happy to bring them out here one at a time and show you what I have, or if it’s more comfortable for you, you and your companion can join me in my office where it will be more private and you can look over all that I have for as long as you want. Mr. Helms will watch the shop for me.”
Susannah’s stomach jumped at the thought that he might actually have the pearls, yet she had an innate reluctance to go to the back of this man’s shop. Instinct told her this was not a man to trifle with. She had to calm herself. Finding the pearls could not be as easy as simply having this man present them to her, but oh, how she would love it if it turned out to be so.
Swallowing her hesitation, she said, “Of course, we’ll follow you to your office. I would very much like to see all that you have.”
“Certainly.”
Mr. Smith picked up his spectacles as he nodded to Mr. Helms. He then turned back to Susannah and said, “This way.”
Susannah and Mrs. Princeton followed Mr. Smith down a dimly lit corridor to a small, damp room that held an oak desk with baroque, trumpet-shaped legs. It was littered with papers and books. Mr. Smith walked over to a skirted round table that stood against a far wall. He pushed the lamp and a small statue of David to one side and lifted the hem of the brown brocade cloth and bunched it up on the table. Susannah briefly saw what appeared to be a large iron safe with two key holes in it, one underneath the other, before Mr. Smith knelt in front of it.
Her gaze darted to Mrs. Princeton, who was standing near the doorway, stiff with apprehension, holding the music to her chest as if it might somehow protect her from whatever it was she feared. Looking back at Mr. Smith, Susannah watched him pull a ring with several keys on it from his coat pocket and unlock the top lock.
He rose and said, “Excuse me. I have to get the other key from another room.” He went back out the door. Susannah glanced at Mrs. Princeton and raised her eyebrows in a hopeful gesture.
“There, that didn’t take long,” Mr. Smith said, hurrying back into the office. “For safety purposes, I have to keep one of the keys hidden, you understand.”
“I can see the wisdom of that,” Susannah said calmly, even though she felt as if all her insides were quaking. And she didn’t exactly know why. It wasn’t as if Mr. Smith or his associate had said or done anything to make her fearful of them.
When she first walked into the shop, the scent of the citrus incense was pleasant, but now, with the pressure of what she was doing, it was beginning to give her a headache. Knowing that there was the slightest possibility she could find the pearls kept Susannah’s mind occupied and her hands calm.
Mr. Smith quickly cleaned off an area of his desk and slid an oil lamp over. He pulled a camel-back chair around and said, “Please, Your Grace, sit here where you can be comfortable and see well. I’ll bring everything to you.”
She accepted the chair and stared as he knelt in front of the safe again and put the key in the bottom lock and twisted the handle. The heavy door swung open. With his hand, he pulled out several velvet boxes and two trays filled with an assortment of jewels and carefully put them all on the desk in front of her. She was amazed at how he managed to do so much with just one arm and hand.
Susannah took her time and calmly looked at everything Mr. Smith spread before her. He showed her elaborate gold and jeweled crowns, large diamond necklaces, and loose rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. She complimented exceptional pieces and asked questions about others until her head began to pound. When she felt she couldn’t look at another gem, she said to him, “I haven’t seen any pearls, Mr. Smith. Do you have any?”
His brow wrinkled, and he pursed his lips. “I did, but not now.”
Susannah tensed but hoped it didn’t show on her face. “What do you mean?”
Disappointment flashed in his eyes, as if he could see a sale slipping through his fingers. “I had some of the most beautiful pearls in the world a couple of weeks ago, but a gentleman came in and purchased them all.”
“A gentleman bought them all?”
“Every one,” Mr. Smith said, clearly disappointed he had no pearls to show her. “I don’t talk about anyone who visits my shop, as I keep my client list private, but this, this man, he was a very strange person. He bought every pearl and wanted more. He asked if I knew where he might find others. I told him I was happy to check with my sources and see what I could do for him. I called on a well-known man in Town. A marquis,” he said as his eyes sparkled. “I thought he might be willing to part with some very rare pearls he has, for a handsome sum of course, but he was not interested.” Mr. Smith shrugged. “But I can speak to him again. He might be more willing if he knows my client is a beautiful duchess.”
Putting two and two together quickly, Susannah came up with the scenario that Captain Spyglass was probably the gentleman who had bought all of Mr. Smith’s pearls and that Race had to be the well-known marquis he spoke with about the Talbot pearls.
Susannah smiled. “No, that’s not necessary. I’m not that eager. I just found it odd that among all these extraordinary gems there were no pearls.”
If what Mr. Smith told her was true, and there was nothing in his features to indicate he was hiding the truth from her, she didn’t think he had stolen the Talbot pearls from Race. He was much too free with his information to be hiding a theft.
Still, to be sure, she said, “Do you mind if I ask, was the man who bought the pearls Captain Spyglass?”
Mr. Smith’s eyes rounded, and he pushed his spectacles up closer to his eyes. “Yes, how did you know? Forgive me, Your Grace, for speaking so much about him. I don’t usually talk about my clients.”
She gave the man a reassuring smile. “You have told me nothing about the man I didn’t already know. In fact, it’s well known throughout London that Captain Spyglass has been buying pearls from all over the world. And when I met him, he was dripping in pearls.” Susannah kept going. “And might I conclude that the gentleman you spoke of who has the rare pearls is the Marquis of Raceworth?”
“I—I’ve said far too much, Your Grace.”
“Nonsense, Mr. Smith. It was written in Lord Truefitt’s column that Lord Raceworth received the Talbot pearls from his grandmother.”
Relief washed down Mr. Smith’s face. “Yes, that is how I knew he had them. I mentioned the gentlemen only because I wanted you to know the reason I have no pearls to show you. I would be pleased to notify you when I can obtain more pearls. I would consider it an honor to have something you wanted.”
She rose. “That would be lovely. Thank you, Mr. Smith.”
He swept his hand across all the jewels that lay on the desk in front of her and questioned, “Did you not find anything to your liking? I have more.”
Mr. Smith went back to the safe. It was clear he didn’t like the idea of a possible sale slipping away. “Oh, but I did find something I wanted,” she said with a smile. “I am delighted that I found the old music scores. My companion will pay you for them. She will leave you my card so you can send me a note should you get more music or pearls.”
The man beamed and bowed graciously, knowing he’d made the only sale he was going to get from her today but pleased he might have other opportunities in the future.
“Most assuredly. I am always available to be at your service, Your Grace.”
Susannah nodded and started threading her way back to the front door. She wanted to get away from the intense citrus scent and clear her thoughts and pounding head.
For now, at least, she felt confident in marking Mr. Smith off the list of possible suspects. She had no doubts that if he’d had the necklace, he would have shown it to her. So that left Mr. Harold Winston and Captain Spyglass for her to deal with. And she had to factor in that there was always the possibility of someone else who hadn’t revealed himself to Race the way she, Captain Spyglass, and Mr. Winston had.
Susannah nodded to Mr. Helms as she walked past him. The bell on the door jangled as Susannah stepped onto the boardwalk that ran along the street, leaving Mrs. Princeton to deal with Mr. Smith and the scores. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, hoping the damp air would clear the heavy smell of incense from her mind and clear her head, if not her clothing.
“Susannah?”
Her eyes popped open, and she found herself staring into Race’s troubled eyes. After their angry parting earlier that morning, it stunned her that her heart still fluttered uncontrollably at the sight of him.
She took a step away from him. A light breeze feathered his hair across his forehead, making him amazingly attractive, and she winced from the emptiness in the pit of her stomach.
A deep frown creased his forehead and around his eyes. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?” he asked.
She took in another deep breath to fortify herself. “Probably for the same reason I am not surprised to see you here. I do not take kindly to your following me, my lord.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Following you? Is that what you think? I wasn’t, but I can see that I should have. I came here to see if Smith had closed his shop and escaped London with my grandmother’s pearls. What excuse do you have for being here?”
She had to admit that once again the circumstances made her appear guilty. “Perhaps it was your grandmother’s dear friend Lord Chesterfield who said, ‘Looks can be deceiving.’”
Concern edged his features, and he said, “Susannah, the man inside that shop deals with criminals. If you had nothing to do with the theft of the pearls, you should have no dealings with that man.”
“If?” she exclaimed. She held out her empty hands, unable to keep from defending herself yet again. “Do I look like I have any pearls on my person? I have no pockets on this cape and none on my dress. I don’t even have a reticule with me today.” She untied the satin ribbon that held her cape together and flung it off her shoulders and draped it over her arm. “And as you can see, I have no pearls around my neck.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Do you really not know, my lord?” she asked incredulously. “I am here because I know I do not have the pearls, and the only way I can prove I don’t have them, or that I don’t know who has them, is to find them myself, which is what I intend to do. If you suspected Mr. Smith might have the pearls, reason should tell you that I would suspect the same thing.”
Race’s gaze pierced hers. “This is a dangerous game you are playing.”
She whipped her cape around and fitted it onto her shoulders again.
“But play it I must.” She remained firm and collected. “And have no doubts that I am playing for keeps. I intend to find that necklace, and when I do, mark my words, my lord, I will keep it.”
“Did you tell him the pearls had been stolen?”
She blinked rapidly. “Of course not. I merely asked to see what jewels he had, and he has no pearls because Captain Spyglass bought them all.”
Race stepped closer to her, his gaze fixed tightly on hers. In a low voice he said, “I will not let you put yourself at risk over this.”
Anger rose up inside her. Anger for the way he had made her feel last night. Anger because he was now pretending to care about her well-being. Anger because she had an aching sense of despair because she would never feel his touch again.
Susannah suddenly jerked her head so close to Race’s face he flinched. “How dare you think you have any control over me. You cannot stop me from doing anything I choose to do. I am mistress over my own life, and I can take care of myself. I will thank you to stay away from me.”
Susannah heard the door jingle behind her and knew Mrs. Princeton had come out of the shop. She glanced over her shoulder to her companion. “Come along, Mrs. Princeton. The day is getting late, and we have a party to get ready for.”
Fourteen
My Dearest Grandson Alexander,
I found these words in an old letter Lord Chesterfield once wrote: “I am now privileged by my age to taste and think for myself and not to care what other people think of me in those respects, an advantage which youth, among its many advantages, hath not.”
Your loving Grandmother,
Lady Elder
Race sat in the far corner at the taproom of the Rusty Nail, feeling a loneliness he had never experienced before. He felt cold and empty inside, and he hadn’t been able to shake the fact that no matter how he tried to convince himself differently, he had behaved like a first-class bastard to Susannah earlier that morning and not any better when he’d seen her coming out of Smith’s Antiques Shop just a few hours ago.
It was late afternoon and raining. The damp air held a chill, and he was mindlessly watching a servant stoking the fire he’d just built in the fireplace, and listening to raucous laughter and balls pinging together in the billiards room nearby. Race was still trying to swallow the bad taste his encounter with Susannah left in his mouth, but not even his drink was helping.
Perhaps he hadn’t had enough wine.
Yet.
No doubt as the evening wore on that would change. Perhaps it had been a justifiable reaction at first that he had considered her an accomplice to the theft, but why hadn’t he simply believed her when she’d denied it? He should have. Perhaps it was the fact that the evidence pointed to her as being the most likely suspect.
But now he was rethinking that, and the guilt he felt for accusing her so fiercely bore down on him like a heavy weight.
After he left her house that morning and returned home to dress, he’d found himself stopping whatever task he was doing, be it buttoning his riding breeches or tying his neckcloth, and he would start thinking about his night in Susannah’s arms. It staggered him that on the one hand, his body felt immensely satisfied from their lovemaking, and on the other, he desired her once again with an all-consuming fire that defied his being able to explain it. He couldn’t get the memory of their night together off his mind.
Somehow, she had bewitched him.
He swirled the dark red wine around in his glass. Race shook his head, cleared his throat, and took another sip of his wine. It was past time for him to compose himself and to deal with Susannah and the theft rationally. For some reason, uncharacteristically, he hadn’t yet put all the facts into perspective.
Susannah had truly looked shocked when he accused her of stealing the pearls. She was definitely angry he had stormed into her bedchamber without thought for her reputation. She had been right when she told him the theft was his fault. And later that morning, she was convincing when she said she would find the pearls and she would keep them.
Now he was beginning to see what he had been unable to see earlier. Susannah was not part of the theft, and she was willing to put herself in danger to find the pearls.
Her desire was not news to him. She had freely told him she wanted the necklace. What made him think she wanted it badly enough to steal, when she had been trying to get him to look at the documents she had brought t
o prove the pearls had been stolen from her family? Documents he’d never looked at.
Was it because of what he was feeling for her that the mere thought she might have betrayed him turned him into a madman? He didn’t know why he had jumped to the wrong conclusions based on flimsy evidence.
He hadn’t told her he would leave his door unlocked, and she certainly wouldn’t have arranged an elaborate plan to steal the pearls just on the assumption that he’d be so eager to get in her bed he wouldn’t remember to lock the door. He knew all that now, but now it might be too late.
He picked up his wine and drank again. Over the rim of the glass, he saw his cousins sauntering into the taproom together, impeccably dressed and both looking like the proud, titled gentlemen they were.
They pulled out chairs and sat down as he placed his wine on the table. Race motioned for the server to bring over two glasses.
“What has Gibby done now?” Blake asked, folding his arms across his chest and tilting his chair on its back legs.
“Gibby?” Race questioned.
“Isn’t he the reason you summoned us here?” Morgan asked.
For a brief moment, Race had forgotten they didn’t know why he sent word for them to meet him here in this quiet and exclusive gentlemen’s club not far from White’s. He supposed he would have to tell Gib about the stolen pearls too, though he dreaded it. Gibby had always idolized their grandmother and he didn’t like anyone saying or doing anything to disturb her memory.
Race brushed an imaginary crumb from the table and then sat back in his chair. Issuing an audible sigh, he said, “No, Gib is not the reason I wanted to see you.”
“What else could have you looking so glum?” Blake asked as the server put two glasses on the table in front of them and poured wine into both.
“Leave the bottle,” Race said.
Morgan grinned. “This must be serious. You look like you’ve lost your two best and only friends, and we know that can’t be true because here we sit right in front of you.”
