Page 22 of An Arranged Betrothal with a Contrite Duke
However, she raised one of her eyebrows and gave him a small, bemused smile.
“But surely, that’s nothing new for you,” she said. “As you also said, you pride yourself on your own artifactual collection. This cannot be the first piece which has made you feel that way.”
Michael fought to keep his expression stilled, but he was wholly flustered. How could he have not thought of those things before he spoke? Why had he not been able to contain his excitement when Lady Lydia showed him the vase’s location?
“Oh yes, of course,” he said, barely able to keep his voice from betraying his nervousness. “However, this vase is one of a kind.” He held it up, very gently, and turned it slightly once again, pointing at a small blemish down at the bottom, just beneath the inscription. “But you see here, this is one of the only pieces I have heard about that was made more important and invaluable than many other items in my collection.”
Lady Lydia inspected the flaw, but her face began to relax.
“How so?” she asked. “It’s strange, but I never noticed it there before. I suppose I never looked at it up close. What happened there?”
Michael smiled patiently, praying his next words didn’t earn him more of his bride-to-be’s suspicion.
“That is where the potter was likely startled while finishing this masterpiece,” he said. “Well, that is what is presumed by the scholars of the time. It is right under the inscription, which would have been the final touch, apart from a signature. And that little blemish appears to have been the letter ‘A’, which scholars suspect is for the potter called Aegeus Corellus. He was lesser known, but his work was some of the best of its time. He drew his letters in this specific fashion. And after this vase was made, no new work of his was ever found again. It is theorized that he was involved in a village raid of some kind. Thus, to many collectors and scholars in the field, it has a very special meaning.”
Lady Lydia listened to him talk, and Michael realized he had begun babbling. He screamed at himself silently in his mind, trying to keep his expression from belying anything more than what his behavior and eagerness already had. It was too late to curb his previous reaction. All he could do now was control how he reacted from that moment on and try to pretend that his interest in the vase was passing at best.
“It is fascinating that you know so much about that vase,” she said, giving him a sweet, relaxed smile. “Especially with the limited resources you said you have on it. Truly, you are as much an expert on ancient artifacts and history as Father is.”
Michael felt his legs go weak with relief. Lady Lydia seemed to accept his explanation, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she spoke. He could never tell her that his real interest was just to have a piece that was so widely coveted by other collectors such as himself and her father. And she could absolutely never know that the vase would be his because of his marriage to her.
“Your father must be very proud of his collection,” he said, seeking words that were true, so he didn’t manage to snag himself in another of her suspicious, scrutinizing looks. “It is easy to take one’s own collection for granted after a time, I suppose. Once one has acquired the pieces desired, it is easy to forget just how much the person who possesses them wanted them.”
Lady Lydia gave him another smile, and she nodded.
“I can imagine so, Lord Strawbridge,” she said. “Father takes similar pride in certain pieces he has. I imagine that it must be quite satisfying to own something that others can only admire.”
Michael breathed another sigh of relief, grateful that she was no longer looking at him warily. In fact, much of her previous demeanor had returned. He gave her another smile.
“Indeed,” he said.
The clock struck ten o’clock just then, nearly causing Michael to jump out of his skin. He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the vase, praying he didn’t drop it.
Lady Lydia must have read part of his mind. She gave him a tired smile and held out her hands to him.
“Shall I put the vase away again now?” she asked.
With a nod, he gently handed it back to her, his fingers lingering on the smooth surface for a moment before releasing it. He was shocked at the sense of loss he felt as she took the vase from him. But he kept a warm smile on his face as the vase transferred hands.
As she carefully returned the vase to its place in the cabinet, Michael's thoughts turned to their earlier encounter. That almost kiss – what had come over him? He had never intended to let things progress so far, and yet in that moment, he had been powerless to resist the pull of her eyes, the warmth of her breath, the curve of her lips.
He shook his head, trying to banish the memory. It was a moment of weakness; one he couldn't afford to repeat. But as he watched Lady Lydia lock the cabinet, he couldn't help but feel a stirring of longing, a desire he knew he must keep hidden at all costs.
By the time Lady Lydia turned back to face him, Michael had largely gotten his feelings under control. He gave her a smile, not daring to speak. And he did his best to keep his eyes off the vase’s cabinet. He had already come too close to showing too much interest in it. Now, he needed to focus solely on his bride-to-be.
“Shall we return to the dining room, my lord?” she asked, her voice light and carefree.
Michael nodded, forcing his body to relax. His nerves would be frayed for a while yet. But he had to get through the rest of the night without letting Lady Lydia notice.
“Yes, of course,” he replied, offering her his arm. As they walked back to the dining hall, he tried to focus on the upcoming wedding and the admiration he would receive for his newly acquired treasure. But in his heart, part of him knew that the desire for the vase paled in comparison to the desire he felt for the woman by his side.
Chapter Thirteen
“Oh, dear,” Deborah Townsend said, practically bouncing as she was walking alongside her mother and sister, gushing. “I can’t recall the last time I was this excited in all my life.”
Lydia giggled, shaking her head.
“I believe that you have said that every day this week,” she said. “And before each shop we’ve gone into. And each one we have come out of.”
