Chapter 18
DRASKO
So, the pianos did the trick.
Or, perhaps, an army of modistes that had come to their house to create lavish dresses for Grace. Or the unlimited funds Drasko had provided for her. Most women could be bought.
Yet, Grace’s gaze wasn’t bitter. A miracle, truly.
“I told you,” she replied with a nervous smile. “I want to know more about you. The reporters downstairs asked me for comments.”
Drasko raised his eyebrow in question.
Grace playfully swung the reticule in her hand, a gesture too forced, betraying her nervousness, as she took slow steps around his office, studying it.
“I told them that the engagement to the earl was my silly revenge on you. While, all along, you and I were madly in love.” For the second time in the last ten minutes, Drasko almost choked in surprise. A little smirk curled her pretty lips as she met his eyes. “How is my performance?”
“Outstanding so far,” he said with a sense of satisfaction, adding, “wife.”
“So, will you tell me about what you do here? Or should I ask your assistant to give me a tour?” she asked again haughtily. “A random Londoner knows more about Mawr Diamond Industries than Drasko Mawr’s wife . If you are busy, I understand. Perhaps, I shall ask the reporters.”
Her stabs at him were so endearing. He easily saw through her forced confidence, her intentional bitterness, realizing it wasn’t in her nature at all. For as soon as she forgot herself, genuine eagerness shone through her eyes. She was so lovely when she was herself.
“Very well.” He pushed off his desk.
It would take weeks to show her the true scale of what Drasko’s fortune encompassed. But he started with the Mawr Building.
“The elevator was constructed half a year ago by the American scientist,” Drasko explained as they took a ride downstairs to the lower floors.
He tried to act nonchalant, but his wife’s questions were on point, with genuine curiosity that killed off his bitterness. And as he started telling her about the company’s history, he enjoyed giving her glimpses of what he was.
He showed her the stockrooms, introduced her to the managers, the people in charge of sales, all the while waiting for her to get bored.
She didn’t.
“You are the goddess of music!” his employees complimented while Grace smiled politely.
“The Mawr Wonder Room,” Drasko announced as he took her to the floor below his office where the masterpieces of lapidary and jewelry craftsmanship were displayed.
Etta Lauman was in charge of the collection and smiled graciously as she gave Grace the description of every art piece.
“I am such an admirer of your music!” she kept repeating, touching Grace’s hand like she was holy.
“My favorite, I think,” Grace said as she inspected the Guardian of the Night . The full-size raven was made out of obsidian pieces. Red diamonds for eyes. Blue diamonds for the threads in its beak. White diamonds created a glittering armor texture on its feathers.
Mine too , Drasko thought in surprise and studied his wife as she explored the collection and gasped in awe.
There were black diamonds with golden legs—spiders scattered on a piece of red marble.
A rose made out of emeralds and garnets, the diamonds sprinkling it with morning dew.
A chandelier, made of 120,000 melee diamonds.
Europa’s Abductor was a bull’s head with horns, diamonds of all hues decorating the skull.
Cupid’s Spear , a Greek sculpture of Eros, had wings and bows made out of thousands of pink melee diamonds.
Manus Deae were a pair of women’s gloves made out of colorless diamonds, and Libidine was a stunning woman’s floor-length negligee made out of yellow ones. In Latin, libidine stood for lust.
Wonders of jewelry craftsmanship hadn’t impressed Drasko in a long time. Yet he observed Grace with delight, catching her gleeful smile as she studied the pieces.
Several men walked in with heavy equipment.
“How timely!” Miss Etta exclaimed. “Mr. Mawr, this is John Figg, the photographer I was telling you about. He wants to take a photograph of you and the Mawr Wonder Room. Since Mrs. Mawr is here, it is only fitting that both of you pose.”
And the two of them stood in front of the camera, Drasko half-a-step behind Grace. He couldn’t help himself—he placed his palm on the small of her back. Her body went rigid right away, but she didn’t move away, and his palm burned at the contact.
“There are several other things that you might like,” Drasko said after the photos had been taken.
“What about the tower?” Grace inquired.
“It’s connected to the building. One entrance at the ground floor. One from my office.”
“Will you not show me?”
He shook his head—she was surely very inquisitive. “It is off limits.”
“To whom?”
“Everyone but me.”
Disappointment crossed her face. “Why?”
“It’s my fortress of solitude. I like quiet places. I can hear myself then.”
She nodded. “Interesting. I like music. I can hear myself better.” Their eyes locked for a brief moment of understanding. “Very well, then! I’d like to see more! If you have time, that is.”
They took a ride to the Grand Marquis.
For the first time, they were together in public, and he noticed the reporters following them at a distance.
For the first time, they walked together on the street, only a short distance from the carriage toward the Grand Marquis restaurant. He offered his arm to her, and, without hesitation, she curled her gloved hand around it, making his chest tighten with the unfamiliar warmth.
He wondered if she recognized the restaurant he owned.
“I remember this place,” she said as they sat at the table.
He did not respond. It was unlikely she remembered the occasion that had once made him despise her so much and acquire this very establishment.
It had been mere weeks since their marriage. May had turned into June. And for the first time, the increasing heat and at times overbearing smells of the crowded city did not bother Drasko.
In fact, today, the summer felt charming, the colors of blooming trees unusually vibrant, the birds singing and the children’s laughter on the streets intoxicating with their cheerfulness. Oddly, he enjoyed this spontaneous tour of the city that belonged to him but had never made home in his heart.
He took Grace to his small motor factory, where he introduced her to his mechanics. Most called them tinkerers. Drasko called them visionaries.
A large garage, or rather, hallway was loaded with strange contraptions and monstrous metal mechanisms that one day, Drasko was certain, would be the future of the city.
“What is this?” Grace inquired in wonder.
“Brace yourself.” Drasko nodded toward the mechanics, who started the motor of a carriage that didn’t have a way to hook it to a horse.
“A vehicle powered by a gas engine,” one of the men shouted over the blaring of the motor.
Soon, it was turned off, the garage filled with smoky fumes.
But Grace didn’t scrunch up her nose, didn’t open her hand fan, only studied the prototype of a motor car wide-eyed. “I’ve heard of those!”
The mechanics exchanged approving glances with Drasko.
“Yes,” one of them said, encouraged by her enthusiasm. “Mr. Carl Benz has a pattern, but we intend to create our own. We had success with steam-powered prototypes. But we haven’t established a proper way to run the gasoline-powered ones for longer periods and without such a terrible racket.”
“How… extraordinary!” Grace marveled. “The future.”
“The future with a terrible racket, ma’am.”
She laughed. “But that is how it often starts. With a racket that turns into beautiful music.”
Drasko’s heart twisted at her words. On his back, Rakshasa grunted softly. Grace glanced at him from beneath her lashes and looked away too quickly, but the meaning of her words burned in the air between them.
And Drasko marveled at how her face glowed when she smiled, how everyone around her lit up in an instant when she laughed. Her laughter had the same effect as her music—heads turning toward her at the sound as if she were the sun that could warm with its shine.
A drug company on 7th Street, a gentleman’s club and casino in Mayfair, a science center in Southwark—Grace only gazed at Drasko with fascination as he took her on the tour of his properties.
Whereas Mawr Diamond Industries was the Mawr brothers’ accomplishment, Drasko was interested in industrial innovations and wanted to build a company of his own.
He had always been fascinated with people and bright minds.
Perhaps, it had stemmed from the opportunities the Mawr brothers had once given him.
And so he was passing it on, investing his capital into everything profitable, but betting his money on everything that wasn’t yet and seeking out brilliant minds that brought with them change.
Hundreds of Londoners, on foot, by bicycles, carriages, and trams, crowded the streets.
London was changing rapidly. Technology was everywhere.
Electricity wasn’t a novelty anymore. In no time, the streets would see automobiles.
What marvels! A new breed of businessmen was taking over England.
And Drasko was planning on soon being at the front of it!
He swelled with pride under Grace’s gaze as he showed her part of his fortune. He told her more as they rode through the crowded streets, got stuck in the dense traffic of carriages and drays, and he secretly cheered that he had more time with her.
She asked questions. He answered. Often, Drasko held back and let the more knowledgeable men who worked for him explain the businesses as they made stops across the city.
And he got lost in her. Her laughter grew happier. Her smiles were more frequent. Her gaze on him lingered longer.
Something extraordinary was occurring throughout the day—his wife was enjoying his company. This was by far the longest they’d been around each other. And when they arrived at the Port of London, their final destination, he felt disappointed that the day was drawing to an end.
The evening sun was low over the horizon when Drasko led Grace along the shipping docks.
Her delicate gloved hand was once again wrapped around his arm—the gesture so simple yet more meaningful than anything that had passed between them yet.
Her figure seemed so small and fragile next to his, her head reaching just to his chin.
He studied her face as they walked toward one of the piers, her gaze on the shimmering water of the Thames, reflecting the gold of the setting sun.
“Do you see those?” Drasko finally paused and pointed toward the barges with crates and containers. “They are going to be loaded onto that ship.”
He pointed at the steamboat anchored in the bay. It was one of the fastest boats built in England. His. These days, it only took two weeks to get from London to Bombay.
Grace raised her eyes full of wonder at him. “And that is?”
“That’s my ship, one of several used by Mawr Diamond Industries.”
“Oh…” With her hand, she shielded her eyes from the setting sun, squinting at the ship in the distance while Drasko couldn’t stop feeling , so acutely aware of her touch—her other hand was still wrapped around his forearm.
“It’s magnificent,” she whispered. “When is the next time you are going away?”
A momentary ache gripped his heart—perhaps, she was looking forward to being left alone.
“Not quite sure. There is a world’s fair in Chicago in America next year. I intend to visit. Why do you ask?”
Silence hung in the air. Seagulls kaw-kawed in the salty sky.
Grace lowered her hand on top of her other one, both gently resting around his arm as she gazed at the ship in the distance.
The white of her gloves contrasted with his dark jacket. They were so different, Drasko thought at once. What would happen to them? Next year felt like a different life.
He wasn’t sure why he asked quietly, “Would you like to go?”
He didn’t turn to meet her eyes, wasn’t sure he could. Her usual bitter response would come, he knew. He would bat it off with a joke. He was ready.
There came the longest minute of waiting, perhaps seconds that felt like an excruciating forever.
A fool. You are a damn fool , he told himself, regretting the question already.
He clenched his jaw, staring at the distance. That was stupid to ask. They’d agree to?—
“Yes,” she said almost in a whisper that felt louder than his booming heart.