Page 92 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
Chapter 19
To his gratification, Whiddon found the idea of a book of essays and prints was well received amongst some of the refugees he spoke with, although several refused to expose themselves in such a way. There were significantly more who were interested in sitting with Charlotte in her studio to provide descriptions of their stolen heirlooms.
Baron Noyer had been eager to come. He sat now, sipping tea and eating scones while giving details about the pocket watch he’d lost to the smugglers.
“I commissioned the piece myself,” he told them, happily dunking his scone. “I had it carved with the raised likeness of my sainted mother, God rest her soul. It was extremely well done, solid gold and her necklace was a ring of small, dark-toned sapphires. Lighter stones accented the swirling frame around her image.”
The man’s barony had been minor, but he had cheerfully traded it for marriage to a wealthy merchant’s daughter, and he seemed content enough with the outcome. He sighed now, though. “I do hope you find it. It was a lovely piece. I cannot imagine anyone would get as much satisfaction as I would, carrying my dear mama’s likeness about, all day.”
“We are doing our best to recover the stolen items,” Whiddon assured him. “If you do hear from someone claiming to be my representative, though, you must remember to contact me right away.”
“I certainly will,” he replied, indignant. “I’ll do my part to catch the bounder.” His expression fell. “I never got to carry that watch for long, at all. We emigrated soon after its completion. It took months to finish, once the design was finalized, you see. But I never complained.” He nodded at Charlotte. “Lady Whiddon will understand. You cannot rush an artist. Not if you wish for quality work.”
Charlotte smiled at him over her sketch book—but then her face went abruptly blank. Her hand stilled. Eyes wide, she turned to meet Whiddon’s gaze directly.
“What is it?” Alarmed, Whiddon half stood.
She stood as well, letting her sketchbook drop. “Excuse me, sir. I shall return in a moment, but I need a word with my husband. Please, enjoy your tea. I shall be right back.”
She widened her eyes at him and, mystified, Whiddon followed her to the door. In the corridor, she grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the bedroom across the hall.
“Quality work!” she said, full of excitement. “Quality work!”
“I feel as if I am missing something.”
“The first time I met Hurley, I commented on his waistcoat. He said he’d commissioned another but had to wait just over a full month for it to be done, because quality work takes time.”
He shook his head, still not understanding.
“Don’t you see? He told me the name of the tailor.” She frowned, putting a hand to her temple. Mr. . . . Timms! Yes. That’s his name. In Bond Street. Gabriel, I met Hurley the morning after our marriage. And tomorrow, we will have been married a month!”
He finally caught her meaning. “He’ll be at the tailor’s shop, then. Hurley. Either tomorrow or soon after?”
“I doubt he’ll send someone else to fetch it. He’s vain enough to want it fitted. He won’t expect me to recall such a thing—and so I would not have, had it not been for the baron’s comment!”
“Thank goodness, then, for the baron and his pocket watch.” He took her hand and pulled her in close for a kiss. “And for you.”
His heart raced. Letting her go, he strode for the door. “I’ll go today. Talk to the tailor and set a trap. I’ll send for Chester, and we’ll go, now.”
“Gabriel!” She reached for him again, pulling him up short. “Won’t you take me, instead?”
“No.” His first reaction was violently negative. He winced at the disappointment on her face, though. “I want you here, Charlotte, where you are safe.”
“It should be safe as houses. It’s too early for Hurley to be there, today. And I shall be with you.” Her hand moved to his chest. “Please, Gabriel? I’ve been confined to the house. And we’ve never yet gone out together. Anywhere at all. Not once since we married.”
She was right—and she didn’t even know about the rumors that had begun to circulate. Society had noted her absence. Her wretched cousin had been whispering that he was ashamed of Charlotte and regretted taking her as his bride.
Mentally, he weighed the risks. Honestly, they did seem small. He sighed. “Very well. Go on and finish with the baron and I shall tell Chester what we are up to and order the curricle brought around.” He kissed her once more. “But you must promise to stay close.”
“I do! Thank you, Gabriel!”
He watched her head back to the studio with a spring in her step and headed downstairs.
* * *
Charlotte breathed deeplyof the fresh air—as fresh as one could get in London, at any rate. She felt invigorated to be out of the house, and better, to be at her husband’s side. Not even the groom at their back could dampen her spirits—or keep her from enjoying the silent exchange of touches between them, thigh to thigh and arm to arm. It was a press of warmth with each jolt and bump of the vehicle and Charlotte was thoroughly enjoying them all.
It was still early enough for the ladies to be out on Bond Street, though, so she could give no sign of it. She sat stiff-backed, giving no indication of the grand time her limbs were having, and nodded at those she knew, as they passed.
