Page 8 of Lady Louisa and the Carriage Clock
Four rows before him, he spied Lady Louisa, recognizing her unique style. She wore a wide-brimmed hat that would block the view of anyone seated directly behind her if not removed.
Beside her, Edith wore a demure bonnet. Louisa’s hat was a bold choice, her maroon pelisse striking. Although debutantes were expected to choose light colors for their dresses, he noticed that Louisa often wore outerwear in bright, vibrant hues.
The gentleman beside her turned his head, and Cecil recognized Leopold’s patrician nose. He should have expected the ladies to have an escort.
There wasn’t any reason Cecil should have to speak with the man. They’d had a rivalry at Eton that he'd considered friendly. Leopold did not. Cecil was here to get the clock, not to exchange barbs with Louisa's brother.
A tall, gray-haired gentleman walked to the raised dais and tapped an ivory hammer on one of the nearby tables until the room quieted. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I am George Sotheby, your auctioneer this afternoon.”
A younger man standing by the other table picked up a stack of books and carried them to the table beside Mr. Sotheby.
“Lot number one is a collection of social science books, many first editions, from Lord Campbell’s private collection.”
Neither he nor Lady Louisa bid on the books and the lot sold promptly as there was little interest. The next lot was a collection of notebooks by the naturalist Joseph Banks. He suppressed a yawn.
“Lot number three is a rare gold mantel clock, believed to be the only one left of a pair made by Francois-Pierre Jolly, better known as Gaston Jolly. Little is known about the clock discovered amongst the effects of Lord Campbell by his nephew after his passing.”
Cecil looked about carefully, wondering if the RA had members there to bid on the clock. Who else in London knew the significance of the piece? The younger gentleman transported the ebony box to the other table, took out the clock, and held it up for viewing for several moments before replacing it on the table.
“The bidding will start at a shilling.”
Lady Louisa raised a gloved hand, as did another gentleman in the front row. He didn’t recognize the man. The bids were up to twenty shillings, or one pound when Cecil touched his forehead with his right hand. “Two pounds.”
“Two pounds to the gentleman in the back of the room.”
Several pairs of eyes turned to look at him, including Edith, Louisa, and Leopold. Louisa’s lovely eyes widened momentarily, and Edith gave him a brief nod. Leopold stared daggers before he turned to his sister and whispered in her ear, causing Louisa to smile.
* * * * *
Louisa started and turned in her seat to look behind her when she heard Leopold mutter under his breath, “Lord Wycliffe!”
“Leopold?” she asked, alarmed at the dark expression on her brother’s face as he stared at the viscount.
“Do you really want that clock, Louisa?” he asked grimly.
She nodded. “I do, brother.”
“Then you shall have it.” Turning to face forward, he raised his hand. “Three pounds.”
With a smile, she also faced forward.
“Four pounds.” Louisa didn’t have to turn her head again. She recognized the voice. Lord Wycliffe’s deep, husky voice had often been an unwelcome guest in her dreams.
The auctioneer nodded back and forth several times between her brother and Lord Wycliffe.
“Twenty pounds going once, going twice, sold for twenty pounds!” Mr. Sotheby rapped his hammer on the table.
The clock was hers. How? Why? There were rumors that Lord Wycliffe was short of funds, but she’d imagined he would never surrender the clock if it meant she would get it. They were both very competitive people, after all.
“It’s yours, Louisa!” Edith clapped her hands from her place on Louisa’s other side.
There was only one more lot left, another collection of books. She did not look behind her to see how Lord Wycliffe was taking his loss. When the auction was over, Mr. Sotheby motioned for Leopold to approach the table at the front of the room, where her brother signed a paper and handed over a draft on his bank. The gentleman then placed the gold clock back into the red silk-lined ebony box, closed the lid, and handed the box to Leopold.
“With my best wishes,” her brother said with a smile as he walked to where she stood several paces from the dais and handed her the ebony box.
“Thank you, Leopold!”
Once the clock was in hand, she turned to look at the back of the room. Lord Wycliffe was nowhere in sight. Louisa told herself if she was disappointed the viscount had disappeared, it was only because she wanted to see the expression on his face as she held her prize.
