Chapter Fourteen #2
Lady Gosforth had swept off in a frenzy of happy planning, consulting with her butler, chef, housekeeper, and secretary.
Callie had felt a little uncomfortable letting a relative stranger take on the burden of organizing her wedding and had suggested that she could arrange something suitable herself, but Lady Gosforth told her instantly she was not to think of such a thing.
It was soon borne home to her, most forcibly, that the planning of social events was the breath of life to Lady Gosforth, and that the lady’s only regret was that there was so little scope for her talents.
“Leave it to me, my dears. I know just what to do. All you have to do is be the radiant bride.” And she’d swept out, leaving Callie and Tibby alone.
Be the radiant bride indeed, Callie thought and caught Tibby observing her. She gave Tibby a rueful smile. “I expect you’re wondering what brought this on.”
“I can’t say I’m totally surprised,” Tibby admitted. “I have noticed a certain intimacy developing between you and Mr. Renfrew.”
“Intimacy?”
“Perhaps I should have said a closeness—I wasn’t implying anything improper,” Tibby corrected hastily.
“There is no intimacy. It is not a love match,” Callie explained quickly, unable to bear any misunderstanding between her and Tibby. Bad enough that she had to play the radiant bride for Gabriel’s friends and relations, she needed at least one person who knew the truth.
Two people, she amended. Three if you counted Mr. Nash Renfrew. The others might suspect that this hasty wedding had something to do with protecting her son from Count Anton, but Gabriel was pretending to be happy about it, so the least she could do was feign happiness as well. But not to Tibby.
“I do not want it widely known, for obvious reasons, but you are my oldest and dearest friend, so I want you to know. Count Anton has instituted a legal move with the English government to have Nicky returned to Zindaria under his authority as the regent.”
“Oh, my dear!” Tibby clasped her hands in horror.
“Yes, so Mr. Nash Renfrew, he is some sort of diplomat in government, he says marrying Gabriel—Mr. Renfrew—will help me keep Nicky here with me. That is why it’s to be so soon.”
Tibby looked thoughtful. “I can see the logic behind it all, and of course I understand you must do whatever it takes to protect Nicky…but have you thought about how this will affect you in the longer term?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…what we were talking about the other day, how things were between you and Prince Rupert.”
“No. It’s not the same at all.” She was not going to let it be the same. “Tibby, dear, this wedding is nothing but a stratagem, a—a chess maneuver. It’s all been very clear from the start.”
Tibby’s eyes were troubled. “You have a tender heart, my dear, and Mr. Renfrew is very handsome and can be enormously charming and persuasive.”
“I know. And knowing how charming and persuasive he can be is what will prevent the same thing happening again. He is charming and persuasive to everyone—when he is not riding roughshod over their opinions, that is.”
Tibby looked unconvinced.
Callie continued, “I am not the foolish girl I once was. I was married for nine years. Now I am a mature woman of five-and-twenty and I have put all that nonsense behind me.”
“Do we ever put all that nonsense behind us?” Tibby wondered a little wistfully.
“I cannot speak for every woman, of course,” Callie said with all the confidence she wished she had. “But I can for myself. Now I truly understand what a convenient marriage is and can avoid any pitfalls. And I can deal with Mr. Gabriel Renfrew.”
Shortly after the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, Callie rose and excused herself. All the gentlemen rose and she felt ridiculously self-conscious, as though she was wearing a sign saying she was off to a secret tryst.
Tibby immediately jumped up, too, and said that if Lady Gosforth didn’t mind, she had some lessons to prepare. Lady Gosforth said she quite understood and had lists to make.
It was a signal for the evening to break up. Gabriel’s brother Nash and his other friends took their leave and Gabriel sauntered out into the street to farewell them.
Callie hurried upstairs to her bedchamber, grabbed the fabric bundle, and went back down to the library to wait. A few minutes later the door opened and Gabriel entered.
He seated them both on a chaise longue. “Now, what was it you wanted to discuss?”
“If we are to go shopping tomorrow, I will need money.”
“Yes, of course.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of notes.
She stared. “No, I didn’t mean you should give me money. I wanted to ask you to get some for me. Papa left money in trust for me, but it’ll take some time for the lawyers to release it. In the meantime I’ll need money.”
He looked rather taken aback. And intrigued. “How do you mean to do that?” He did not put his money away.
“I want you to sell some jewels for me.” She took out the rolled fabric and showed him the jewels she had unpicked, hoping they would be enough.
He bent over the fabric, fascinated. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Which piece do you mean?”
“This.” He seized the fabric and lifted it so it unrolled. She managed to catch the loose jewels before they fell to the floor.
“It is!” he exclaimed. “It’s a petticoat!”
She snatched it out of his hands.
“So you were smuggling after all,” he said. “I’m marrying a beautiful jewel smuggler.”
“I was not smuggling,” she snapped, bundling the petticoat up in embarrassment. “I carried them sewn into my petticoat for fear of thieves.”
“Some people would call Customs and Excise officers and the taxes they enforce a kind of thieving, but we won’t quibble.” He observed the remaining lumps and bumps still sewn into the petticoat. “Would these be one of the reasons Count Anton is pursuing you?”
“No! They are all my own jewels. None of them belong to the royal house of Zindaria—and you need not look at me like that, they don’t.”
“I was simply thinking how indignation makes your eyes sparkle brighter than any emeralds.”
She decided to ignore that. He was a master of distraction.
“These are all jewels Papa or Rupert gave me: for my betrothal, for my wedding, for birthdays and other occasions. My husband was always very clear and specific about which things belonged to me personally, which were family jewels, and which belonged to the crown. I have brought only those which belong to me, personally. These pearls, for instance, Papa gave me for my sixteenth birthday. I wore them at my wedding.”
“Then you are most certainly not going to sell them.”
She looked at him in frustration. Only this afternoon he had promised not to ride roughshod over her decisions and now, here he was arguing with her. “They are mine to sell.”
“And what if you have a daughter?”
She stared at him in surprise. “I won’t.” She’d had one child in nine years of marriage, and now she was entering a paper marriage. How did he imagine she would have another child?
He set his jaw stubbornly. “You might. But even if you don’t, when Nicky takes a bride, wouldn’t you like him to give her his mother’s pearls to wear at her wedding? Or if one day he has a daughter going to her first grown-up party, wouldn’t she feel special wearing her granny’s pearls?”
She hesitated. She hadn’t thought of Nicky wanting any of her jewels. She’d only thought of them as her funds to start a new life. “Why do you care?”
He shrugged and looked away. “It’s just that I know that women can be sentimental about things. Like that tiara of yours. It matters to you that it belonged to your mother.”
“Yes, it does.”
“So you wouldn’t think of selling that.”
She laughed. “No, I wouldn’t, but not for the reason you imagine.”
“Why not?”
“Because the diamonds in my mother’s tiara are paste.”
His jaw dropped.
“I told you my mother was from a very distinguished, very poor family—all the jewels were paste in the end. But they are very good quality paste and will fool all but an expert.” She grinned.
“As Mama used to say: ‘We are, after all, royalty; if my jewels are to be paste they must be the finest paste in Europe.’”
He chuckled. “I like the sound of your mother.”
“Yes, she was lovely,” she said mistily.
“When did she die?”
“When I was a little girl. An accident with a horse. Papa married her because she was a princess, but I think they fell in love afterward. I always like to think so, anyway.”
He didn’t say anything, but she could feel his gaze on her.
“Papa always wanted to replace them with real diamonds, but I did not want him to, for then it would not be Mama’s tiara anymore.”
She took a deep breath and returned to the subject at hand. “But I must sell some of these jewels and I need your help to do so, as I don’t know my way around London yet.”
“Why do you need money?” he demanded.
She stared at him. “What a stupid question! Because I do. I’m going shopping tomorrow, for a start.”
“You won’t need money for that. Have them send their accounts to me at this address. And for any trinkets, here.” He started to peel banknotes off.
“No, stop it,” she told him. “That’s not fair. Why should you be out of pocket for my clothes?”
He said through gritted teeth. “Because you are to become my wife and a man provides for his wife.”
“I will be a paper wife only,” she began, then said hastily as a speculative look suddenly lit his eyes, “and if you try to demonstrate that I am flesh and blood, Gabriel, I will smack you! I am being serious here and you promised me this afternoon that you would not ride roughshod over my opinions.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I’m listening.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I am merely discussing options with you,” he explained.
“Well, listen to this: I owe you enough as it is, without owing you the very clothes on my back. I have my pride, just as you do.”
“I see,” he said quietly.