Page 44 of An Arranged Betrothal with a Contrite Duke
“Coulton,” she began hesitantly, “where is the little vase that used to sit on that shelf?”
The butler, who was just exiting the door of the room, turned back at her question. He looked to where she was pointing, his brow furrowing.
“I apologise, milady,” he said. “But I cannot immediately recall what was there.”
Lydia nodded.I couldn’t either, at first… and now, I do not know what to think…
“It was an ancient Greek clay vase,” she said. “It has lightening bolts and warriors on it. Father prized that vase more than almost anything else he collected. Did it get broken?”
Coulton looked puzzled for a moment, pausing to, Lydia guessed, try to picture the vase. After a moment, his expression cleared, and he nodded.
“Ah, yes, I recall now,” he said. Then, he frowned. “But I do not understand. It was packed up and delivered to your husband, on the day of your wedding. I would have thought that you would have heard about it. Or, at the very least, seen it at your new home.”
Lydia shook her head, the concern for the vase turning into dark, heavy dread in her stomach.
“Are you sure that’s what happened to it?” she asked, nervous.
Coulton nodded, looking at her with genuine concern.
“I packed it up myself and handed it to the Earl just before the ceremony, milady,” he said gently.
Lydia shook her head, the words not making sense. That was one of her father’s most prized pieces in his entire collection. In fact, to her knowledge, he hadn’t found an acquisition since that vase that he coveted more. He had been very proud of the vase, and he never passed up an opportunity to show it to any interested parties. So, why would he suddenly just get rid of it? She blinked in surprise, her brow furrowing.
“Why would the vase be sent to Michael?” she pondered out loud. “Did Father mention the reasoning to you?”
Coulton shook his head, his expression filling with concern.
“He said nothing to me, apart from his expectation of me to pack it up for him,” he said. “Is there something wrong?”
Lydia nodded slowly, though she was barely registering what the butler said to her.
“Yes,” she murmured. Then, she processed the question and shook her head firmly. “I mean, no. That is, I don’t think so. I just was not aware that Father got rid of his vase.”And I cannot fathom why my husband wouldn’t tell me if Father gave it to him…
The butler gave her a reassuring smile.
“Perhaps, it was meant to surprise you as a housewarming gift, and the duke just let it slip his mind,” he said.
Lydia nodded once more, giving the butler a small smile.
“That is possible,” she said, despite the growing doubt she was feeling. “It’s not important, Coulton. Please, forgive me for distracting you about it.”
The butler shook his head, smiling warmly at her again.
“It was no bother,” he said. “Now, I shall go and fetch you the turpentine, before that ink begins to stain.”
Lydia nodded.
“Thank you,” she said hollowly.
When the butler left, she walked around the room slowly. She didn’t know exactly what she was seeking. Perhaps, there were other artifacts missing that her father might have sold, or maybe traded for other items that he might not have received yet. That might have made her feel better about the mystery of the missing vase. As it was, she couldn’t understand why it was bothering her so.
Her father’s collection was not her business. And truthfully, neither was her husband’s. As a ton lady, a man’s business was never any of hers, unless he made it so. So, why was the idea niggling at her so? Why couldn’t she be as carefree about it as Coulton had been and let the men mind their business? It would have been easier for her to do just that, if she didn’t know her father so well. He had refused to sell any of his pieces, especially that vase, even when they were in need of money. Money which they had now, with her marriage to Michael…
Suddenly, a memory from her first meeting with Michael came to mind. The way his eyes had lit up when she showed him her father's collection, and the particular interest he had shown in the little vase. Why in the world hadn't he mentioned it to her? She would have been thrilled to know that her father gifted her husband something that was so precious to him. The question was plaguing her terribly, and she wanted to find answers.
Coulton returned a moment later, turpentine and fresh cloths in hand. She took the items from him, giving him a warm smile.
“Thank you,” she said again.
