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Slowly Nate walked into his own room, still thinking. It was beginning to fester in his mind. What was her real purpose?

Chapter Nine

No answer had occurred to him when they went out that afternoon, but Madame played her part beautifully. He was impressed by her ability to maintain such a bored facade for so long, listening to him with a slightly vacant expression. To disguise their interest in jewels, they stopped in a few other shops as well, and again Madame gave a good show, deliberating over ribbons and having the mercer bring out bolt after bolt of silk before deciding she didn’t like any of them after all. Anyone following them would form a strong view of her as a woman impossible to please.

For his part, Nate didn’t have to pretend his impatience at all. Not only was this delaying any actual progress they might be making, but her attitude, no matter how feigned, was driving him mad. And there were moments, when he caught a flash of amusement in her expressive dark eyes, that he knew she was laughing at him.

His reaction, of course, was to embrace it. Provoked by her disinterested air, straining at the bit to accomplish something, and furious at himself for finding her so fascinating in spite of her clear lack of interest in being friendly, Nate flirted with her at every turn, making a great show of doting on his alleged wife. He called her his love, his darling, his beloved. He repaid every disinterested glance with a lavish compliment. He never missed a chance to touch her, whether on the elbow or the hand or, once, on the cheek as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. He rather thought he should be dead from the freezing glances she gave him, but she never broke character to engage him.

It took several days of visiting shops, talking loudly and gauchely about what jewels he wished to purchase, before Nate’s plan bore fruit. It was at a smaller shop, one he had added to his list as time wore on and they found no trace of the jewels they sought. Tucked away from Bond Street, it had a surprisingly large selection. The proprietor, Mr. Smythe, brought out necklace after necklace for their inspection. Madame was brilliant, as she had been all along, turning up her nose at every tasteful piece and always asking for something bigger. When the man was ready to tear out his hair, Nate leaned back in his chair and described what they would really like, one of the flashier pieces Dixon had bought.

“I saw just such a pendant in New York a few months ago,” he finished, “but by the time I went back to buy it, someone else had snatched it up.”

“An emerald pendant, heart-shaped, surrounded by small diamonds,” murmured the jeweler. “I do not have such a piece myself, sir, but something very similar was offered to me less than a week ago.”

“Indeed?” Nate let his acute interest show. “By whom? I had my eye on that necklace and was deeply disappointed to lose it.” He smiled at Madame. “There, darling, who knew something like it would turn up in London?”

“If you’ll excuse me but a moment, I shall look it up.” Looking happier now himself, Mr. Smythe excused himself from the small private room where they sat.

“Could it be the same one you saw in New York?” asked Madame idly, smoothing her gloves.

Nate also kept up his persona. “Oh, likely not, my pet. Still, it’s a distinctive pendant, and would look splendid at your lovely bosom. I have regretted letting it go ever since I saw it.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but the jeweler returned. “Yes, I made a note of it, as I always do when offered especially fine pieces,” Mr. Smythe said with a courtly smile. “Naturally I cannot purchase every piece that is offered to me, unless I have a buyer already in mind, particularly a piece of that quality and value. But a gentleman offered me a pendant as you describe, as well as some matching bracelets, barely four days ago.”

“But that’s excellent news,” exclaimed Nate. He couldn’t resist turning to his “wife.” “We’ll have it by the end of the week, love.” She gave him a simpering smile even as her eyes reflected her acknowledgment of his victory. He looked at the jeweler. “How shall I contact this fellow?”

“Er… He is a very discreet gentleman, sir. I understand he acts as an agent for families who have fallen on hard times, and need some assistance realizing funds,” murmured the jeweler. “You understand why he prefers not to be approached directly.”

“Come now,” objected Nate. “I don’t like that. An honest man will meet me face-to-face to conduct business. I won’t buy a necklace from someone who hides away like that. The next thing I know, some wealthy old lady will have the authorities at my door, insisting her nephew stole her necklace and sold it without her knowledge. Tell me his name.”

Mr. Smythe hesitated, interest in his commission warring against the logic of Nate’s argument. “He is Mr. Davis Hurst,” he said at last, quietly. “You may make inquiries if you like, but I believe he offers his assistance only to those of unquestionable integrity. Shall I contact him and make arrangements to purchase the necklace, sir?”

“I shall want proof of the pendant’s provenance,” he warned.

“Of course,” said the jeweler at once.

“And the bracelets—you did say there are bracelets?”

“Yes, indeed, two perfectly matched bracelets of hammered gold, set with emeralds.”

Nate nodded once. “Excellent. Get the set.” He scribbled the number of the house on Varden Street on the back of one of the new cards Madame had ordered, and handed it to the jeweler. “Our London establishment.”

“Very good, sir.” The jeweler took the card and showed them out with a smile.

In the street, Nate waited a moment as Madame fussed with her bonnet before offering her his arm. “Well, dearest love, I’ll have those emeralds around your throat before the end of the week.”

“So you say,” she replied. “We shall see if your word means anything.”

He laughed, pulling her closer to him. Unprepared, she swayed into him, her breast pressing against his arm before she jerked back with a frosty look. “I always keep my word,” he told her. “I told you this would work, didn’t I?”

“That was not a promise you made, that was your arrogant overconfidence speaking.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Arrogant overconfidence? I thought you wanted a man who knows what he’s doing.”

“Yes, knows,” she returned. “You did not know this would work, you assumed. And as of yet, there is no proof that it has worked.”

Nate thought it had been a pretty logical assumption, and a proven good one since it had paid off within such a short time. Madame was irked at him for being right. “Let it not come between us,” he said magnanimously.