Page 36 of Duke in Darkness

“Well. We must guide a certain clerk toward the path of righteousness, then,” said Xavier, his tone everything unholy.

If she weren’t so nervous, she might have laughed. Instead, she stepped out onto the Ludgate Hill footpath. In happier times, the Nash family had patronized the place frequently; her mother’s favorite pieces had been purchased here, as had cameo brooches for each of the three girls, and engraved cuff links for Xavier. Mr. Rundell the elder had always attended them with smiling cordiality, and not once had a purchase been anything other than exquisite.

But today, she was angry. No, not angry—furious.

Taking Xavier’s arm, they strolled into the shop, and were immediately enveloped in a cloak of hushed opulence. It might have been a while, but little had changed. Still the thick rugs underfoot, walls plain cream, and the large cabinets understated glass and oak, so for all eyes, the center of attention remained the jewelry. No one could dispute the beauty and elegance of the pieces on display. Bracelets, necklaces, brooches, and rings for ladies. Fob watches, cuff links, engraved pistols, and snuff boxes for gentlemen. But also a collection of magnificently sculpted candelabra, urns, and elaborate silver and gold plates. Anyone could see why this firm remained the preferred choice of the royal family, and the wealthiest of the ton.

Blessedly, for the moment, they were the only customers.

“Why, Your Grace. And Lord Northam. What a pleasure!”

Lilian turned to see Mr. Philip Rundell. “Mr. Rundell. How nice to see you again.”

“How may I assist you, madam?”

Mentally crossing her fingers, Lilian smiled. “I must confess, I am here as a shamefully impatient wife. My dear Exton stopped by to order some pieces for me, but I simply cannot wait to see what he has commissioned. Would you grant me a boon and show me the drawings?” she finished, batting her lashes. Xavier coughed and pressed his fist to his mouth, his eyes gleaming, and she discreetly pinched him.

Mr. Rundell beamed indulgently. “I did not realize he had. What an honor for us. But if I do, you must promise to be all that is surprised when they arrive.”

Xavier smoothed his cravat. “Oh, I’m sure my sister will be very surprised.”

“Then allow me to check the books. A moment, if you please.”

Nodding graciously, Lilian watched the older man search for nonexistent records and drawings for a full five minutes, until his brow had furrowed and cheeks reddened. “Is there a problem?”

“Not at all, madam,” he replied, too-heartily. “By chance, do you know when His Grace stopped in? Then I’ll know who might have assisted him.”

“Why, just yesterday morning,” said Lilian. “As I said, I am shamefully impatient.”

Mr. Rundell clicked his fingers. “Vickers!”

A young man arrived at pace from behind the back curtain. A young man with brown hair in a queue, and perfectly manicured hands. “Sir?”

“I’m looking for some drawings, and I can’t seem to find them. Pieces the Duke of Exton commissioned for his lovely new bride yesterday.”

The young man looked confused, and Lilian fixed her coldest smile upon him. “Let me assist your recollection of His Grace. Tall and broad, pitch black hair. And while some might find it fearsome, I find his facial scar so very dashing.”

The clerk went parchment pale. “Er…”

“Quite,” said Xavier, folding his arms and stepping closer so he loomed over the clerk. “Exton is a decorated war hero, you know. A favorite of Wellington’s. And though he suffered such terrible injuries in France, my brother-in-law was determined to walk again. Even if it meant he limped.”

Parchment pale turned green. “Oh no…”

“Oh, yes,” said Lilian icily. “The duke you refused to serve.”

Mr. Rundell’s indrawn breath echoed around the shop. “Madam?”

“Do forgive me, Mr. Rundell, for there are no drawings. Because this clerk belittled and embarrassed my husband for his disabilities, accused him of drunkenness, and then manhandled him to the street.”

Xavier shook his head in disgust. “Imagine if that story made it to the drawing rooms. To Lady Kingsford. Her granddaughter’s new husband, an exceedingly wealthy duke, a war hero unrecognized and utterly disrespected.”

“I-I,” stammered Vickers, his temples glistening with perspiration. “He didn’t have a card.”

“Do not say another word,” said Mr. Rundell, his face puce. “You have disgraced the good name of Rundell, Bridges, and Rundell. Remove yourself from my sight. I feel I must dismiss—”

“Now, now,” said Lilian crisply. “This is a moment to learn and reflect. Perhaps,” she added, glancing at the clerk’s soft hands, “a period spent on mundane and unpleasant tasks would be appropriate?”

“An excellent suggestion. Vickers, you may expect a great deal of sweeping, scrubbing, and silver polishing in your future. Now go.”