Page 27 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
For the rest of the afternoon, Allie busied herself with tidying. The back room now smelled of polish, and the inventory room was better organized than it had been in months. She’d even found a few pieces that Dominic had received but never listed in their inventory ledger. The great cost of being as single-minded as her brother was that he couldn’t be bothered with details. The mundane bored him to tears. But in running a shop, doing the mundane tasks well meant a great deal.
One of the items she unearthed was a Japanese vase she knew one of their regular customers would adore, so she finally allowed herself a moment off her feet and sat down to pen a letter to the dowager countess who Allie suspected would snap the vase up.
From her spot at her work desk in the back room, she could see Mr. Gibson at the front counter. He’d taken a tray full of watch parts out with him, though the steady stream of customers had kept him busy. As the winter holidays approached, they always got busier.
Allie finished her letter and had begun writing out the countess’s address when the bell rang above the shop door.
She looked up to catch sight of a gentleman dressed for the evening in white tie and a dark ebony coat. He looked as if he was ready for theopera or dinner at an expensive restaurant rather than a browse at an antique shop. Mr. Gibson greeted him with the same measured tone he offered each new customer.
Allie began her search for a stamp among the piles of notes and papers on the desk they all used. She found one, apparently their last, and scribbled out a reminder in her notebook to buy more.
Then the customer’s voice filtered in from the front of the shop and she froze.
It was a voice she recognized.
Her pen skidded across the page, streaking ink, and she held her breath, straining to hear.
“I do not believe in simplicity, and I demand perfection.”
Allie laid her pen aside and concentrated on listening. Yes, there was no denying it. He sounded very much like the ominous tall man at Hawlston’s.
Moving as quietly as she could, she tiptoed over and positioned herself near the threshold. Then she peeked through the half-open door.
The customer was indeed tall, but he looked nothing like the man in the alley. She could only see him in profile, but he was clean-shaven with light brown hair. And he seemed wider, less lean, though his layers of clothing could account for the change.
“If I provide you with a gem,” the customer said to Mr. Gibson, “can you cut it to my specifications?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Show me some of your work, if you would.”The man flicked a gloved hand out and Mr. Gibson reached for the calling card he offered.
Allie noted the jump of Mr. Gibson’s brows after he glanced down at the details on the card. “I will be pleased to, my lord,” he said. Then he led the man to the jewelry counter.
Pressing her back against the wall, Allie willed her breathing to steady, willed her mind to stop leaping to conclusions.
The man’s accent was clipped and precise, and that made sense if he was a nobleman. But why would a nobleman involve himself in a scheme to steal jewels from the monarchy that gave his very title legitimacy? But, of course, that might be the heart of the matter. Perhaps the man was not loyal to the Crown. His sympathies might lie with the Irish cause for home rule or with one of the workers’ unions.
Allie glanced at the man again as he followed Mr. Gibson to the locked case where they displayed their finest objects and jewels.
The similarities were undeniable. He carried himself with the same confidence as the man she’d seen—albeit briefly—outside Hawlston’s.
“Do you have a loupe?”
“Indeed, my lord.” Mr. Gibson handed the man the magnifying monocle he carried with him everywhere.
Allie watched as the man lifted the loupe to his face, and her belly dropped into her boots. It was him. She had no doubt. Something about thecurve of his cheek as it met the lens. Hewasthe man she’d seen at Hawlston’s.
The nobleman lifted his head and snapped his gaze toward the back-room doorway as if he sensed her perusal. Allie sprang back, flattening herself against the wallpaper and holding her breath. She prayed he hadn’t seen her.
Several minutes ticked by, and every moment she feared the man would burst into the back room and... She wasn’t certain what he’d do, but surely he would not wish for someone who could identify him if he was going to engage in such a brazen attempt at thievery.
Her breath rushed out and her heart felt as if it was trying to leap from her chest, but all she heard from the front of the shop was Mr. Gibson’s voice as he described two of the rings he’d cut and a matching sapphire necklace. The other man murmured quietly in response. Then the men’s voices faded, as if they’d both stepped toward the front of the shop.
She dared not peek out again, for fear the nobleman would spot her.
A moment later, the bell chimed, and she could only guess that the man had departed.
Still, she waited, straining to hear. Finally, she could make out Mr. Gibson’s footsteps cutting a path toward her. His eyes widened when he stepped into the back room.
