Chapter Ten
SITTING ALONG IN HISclub, the drone of cheerful male voices a backdrop to his misery, Robert stared into his scotch. In his vision stood an image of Emilia, beautiful in a pale blue gown, golden tresses tumbling about, and Dunreid’s sapphire at her throat.
His grip tightened. Damn Dunreid and his sapphire, and damn… no, he couldn’t bring himself to damn Emilia. If anyone else should be consigned to hell, Robert should be. He wouldn’t even have to leave his club. Hell was the world in which he lived.
He eased his grip on the tumbler. He’d already squeezed one into fragments that week. He had the cuts to prove it. His eyes drifted to the decanter in the center of the table, only drained when he poured a new glass each afternoon. A glass he stared at but didn’t drink. Not even scotch could numb the pain of Emilia’s betrayal.
Even dreams of the Continent held no draw. Nor did dreams of seductive French women, or vivacious Italians. The smooth lull of cognac, the vivid bite of grappa. No amount of exotic beauty or expensive liquor would make a difference. The usual pleasures didn’t matter. If Cinthia had broken his heart, Emilia had mended the tortured organ, made it whole. Then she’d taken a blade to it and shave it into little pieces. He set down his tumbler, rested his elbows on the table, and dropped his face to his palms.
The chair across from him scraped out. Fabric rustled as someone settled into the seat. The tumbler at his elbow made a low grating sound as the heavy crystal was dragged across the table. The thick scent of Dunreid’s cologne clogged Robert’s nose, and threatened to gag him. He heard the viscount swallow. The glass clunked back to the tabletop.
“Don’t see what you’re so dismal about,” Dunreid said. “Good scotch.”
Robert lifted his head. So many curses clamored at his lips, he couldn’t get one out. “You unmitigated ass,” he finally managed.
Dunreid raised his eyebrows. “Look, I only came over to find out if you know who won the Glasbarr chit. Been driving me mad, not knowing. I even went to that jeweler, the one on High Street. They admitted to making the piece she wore, but won’t tell me more.”
Robert stared. He tried to make sense of Dunreid’s words. “Bribed?”
“Don’t act as if you’ve never bribed anyone.” He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t judge me, Banbrook. Least you can do after I didn’t press charges when you bedded my wife.”
“I didn’t bed anyone,” Robert mumbled, his thoughts as muddled as if he’d been drinking the scotch Dunreid now sipped. “You’re talking about the necklace you sent?”
“You heard about that?” Dunreid frowned, then shrugged and took another sip. “Suppose she told you? Gorgeous piece. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and a great big sapphire. Don’t know how a girl could resist an expensive bauble like that, but she returned the damn thing. Jeweler even refunded the fee. Who’d think a single sapphire would win out over all that?” Dunreid’s expression turned rueful. “Then again, Cinthia has most everything I give her reset, so maybe my taste doesn’t appeal to women.”
“You didn’t send the sapphire?” Robert gave his head a hard shake to clear his thoughts.
“That one she wore at the ball? I wouldn’t insult a girl by buying her with so little.” He eyed Robert for a long moment. “You’re telling me you don’t know who sent that paltry pendant? Whose favor she accepted when she wouldn’t have me?”
“When she wouldn’t have you?”
“That’s what I said. Gads, man, is that your second decanter?”
“But you said, you lost,” Robert blurted, confused. “In the foyer, you said I’d lost.”
“So you had, and me along with you. You saw that pendant she wore clear as I. A girl like that wouldn’t wear a man’s gift in public for all to see unless she was in love with the fellow.” Dunreid shook his head. “You can’t compete with love. I’m smart enough to know when I’m beat.”
“But you pursued Cinthia.”
Dunreid gave him a pitying look. “I did, and I stand by my words. Can’t win over a girl in love.” Dunreid downed the rest of the scotch and stood. He set the glass on the table and leaned over to peer at Robert. “You look like hell, Banbrook. Shave, get your valet to dress you for evening, and go find yourself a sweet little piece to take your mind off things. Lord knows that’s what I’m going to do.”
Robert watched the viscount stomp away, his mind swirling. Not Dunreid’s sapphire? Who, then? Someone must have sent the pendant, but not Dunreid. Emilia hadn’t agreed to be the viscount’s mistress after all. He hadn’t bought her, offered her something she thought she couldn’t live without, like he had with Cinthia.
But someone had. Robert leaned back in his chair and stared at the far wall. Was the necklace a payment, or a proposal? He thought back through the men Emilia had danced with, and those they’d seen in the park. She hadn’t seemed inclined toward any of them.
He rarely agreed with Dunreid on anything, but the viscount was right, the truth must be known, and the jeweler on High Street could reveal who’d sent the necklace. Perhaps charm would win where demands and bribery had not, for Robert was sure those were Dunreid’s only tactics.
He pushed to his feet and waved a footman over. “Send for my carriage.”
“Yes, sir.” The man, John, hurried away.
Long strides carried Robert from the club. He paced outside until his carriage appeared. Not waiting for the conveyance to fully halt, he yanked open the door. He paused only long enough to say, “The jeweler on High Street, now,” before he jumped in.
The carriage ride to High Street had never seemed longer. He shifted in his seat, pulled back the curtain a dozen times. Teeth gritted, all he could do was wait for his carriage to arrive.
Robert was familiar with the shop, used by the wealthiest in Edinburgh, and the proprietor. He’d purchased several small, but expensive, items for Kitty there. He hadn’t thought on the baubles until that moment, but she obviously hadn’t felt the need to return them after calling their wedding off. Not that he begrudged her mementoes of their doomed courtship.
When they finally arrived, Robert leapt from the carriage before his footman could descend to open the door. A rosy-cheeked shop girl met him at the jeweler’s door, which she opened from within, offering Robert a dimpled smile. He entered the exceedingly clean, almost sparse space in a mingled state of curiosity and desperation, both of which he concealed behind a properly bored expression. All around him, against the austere backdrop of white walls and dark flooring, gems glittered.
