Page 46 of The Lawrence Browne Affair
“But I do.” With Lawrence, Georgie had discovered a chance to be himself; with the resplendent Earl of Radnor, Georgie was simply a thief waiting for a chance. Or, worse, he was a thief who had lost the instinct, and without that he didn’t know what he even was. “You go upstairs first.” He kept his eyes fixed on Lawrence’s to make sure his meaning was received. “Take off your ring and lock it up.” Lawrence’s eyebrows shot up, but he nodded. “Someplace safe. I’ll be up in a quarter of an hour.”
That was truth, of a sort, but without having to say the ugly words. Alone in the parlor, Georgie finished Lawrence’s brandy and then reached for the decanter to pour himself another glass. He could already feel the warmth seeping through his body, smoothing the jagged edges of guilt and shame and need.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Snowflakes fluttered past Lawrence’s window, illuminated by the moon. The clock—now keeping reliable time, thanks to his secretary—had struck the quarter hour, then the half hour, but still there was no sign of Georgie.
Lawrence didn’t know what had gotten into Georgie but gathered it had something to do with money. That, as far as Lawrence cared, was easily remedied. By the time he heard Georgie’s light footsteps on the stairs, he was wearing his ratty old dressing gown and an ancient pair of trousers. He had, as requested, removed his signet ring. He’d have tossed it into the sea if that was what Georgie required. For that matter, he would throw the entire contents of Penkellis into the sea and it wouldn’t make much difference to him. He had mines; he had money in the funds; he had land spread across this part of Britain. And for all his faults, he wasn’t foolhardy enough to dispense with the services of good stewards and land agents. He had kept the Browne fortune safe for Simon and had wealth to spare.
He heard a rustling in the corridor, and he smiled when he realized that he knew what it was—Georgie’s habitual smoothing of his lapels and straightening of his cravat. The next moment Georgie had pushed open the door, bolted it behind him, and promptly launched himself at Lawrence. The two of them landed helter-skelter on the sofa.
“You smell like brandy,” Lawrence pointed out, as Georgie buried his face in Lawrence’s neck. “Are you drunk?”
“Nothing so dire as that. Two glasses. Half-sprung at best.” His eyes were as sharp as ever, but his mouth quirked up in an uncharacteristically silly grin. Perhaps it wasn’t intoxication so much as his usually rigid self-control having slipped a bit. Lawrence sat up, taking Georgie with him. “There’s something I wanted to show you.”
Georgie made a sound of prurient interest.
“No, that’s later,” Lawrence said sternly. He reached over to the table beside him and brought out a soft leather pouch. Without explanation, he dumped its contents onto Georgie’s lap.
For a moment the room was utterly silent except for the sound of ivy brushing against the window, and farther away an owl calling in the night.
“What nonsense is this?” Georgie finally asked, his voice strained.
“Some jewels I don’t need, and which I thought you might find useful.”
“Bollocks.” He was holding his hands up and away from the jewels, as if they might be dangerously hot to the touch.
“This was my father’s ring.” Lawrence indicated a large emerald set in heavy gold. “I have no fond memories of it. Quite the contrary, in fact. It’s yours now. Sell it, if you like. Or wear it.” Georgie’s fine fingers were half the diameter of the late earl’s meaty digits, but rings could be resized, and Lawrence might get an indecent thrill out of seeing his father’s ring on his lover’s finger. “It’s yours to do with as you please.”
“Like hell it is. This is ridiculous.”
“Not as ridiculous as you telling me to lock my ring up so you don’t accidentally rob me blind, or whatever flummery you were spouting downstairs.”
“That’s not—”
“Oh, and this vulgar number is my grandfather’s watch fob.” Using his index finger, he lifted a chain bearing several jeweled seals and pendants. “Grotesque. Your sensibilities are no doubt offended by its very existence. Take it and dispose of it how you will. I believe those are real diamonds, not paste.”
“They’re real,” Georgie said promptly. Of course he would know paste from the real thing. “You’re mad.”
Lawrence raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t mean that,” Georgie quickly said. “You know I don’t.”
He did know. Georgie’s confidence in Lawrence’s sanity had changed Lawrence’s own opinion of himself and was worth more than diamonds or gold. “In that case, here’s a cravat pin. Diamond, of course. This,” he said, holding out a necklace, “was a present from my brother to his wife. And matching ear bobs. It has no value to me, except to remind me of the lady my brother harassed to an early grave.”
Georgie let out a low whistle. Hesitantly, he reached towards the jewels, sifting the strands of gold and rubies between his fingers. The gems glimmered and flashed in the candlelight even though the pieces hadn’t been cleaned in years. Smaller rubies were arranged in an intricate flower pattern punctuated by larger rubies. It struck Lawrence that this must have been his late sister-in-law’s choice, because Percy couldn’t possibly have good enough taste to commission something so delicate.
“These belong to your family.” Georgie let the necklace drop heavily onto Lawrence’s lap. “They’ll be Simon’s. I can’t.”
“They aren’t heirlooms. The family pieces are still in a bank vault. These are bits of frippery that mean nothing to anyone, least of all me. I had quite forgotten the necklace even existed.”
“I can’t,” Georgie repeated.
Lawrence swept up the jewels into one big hand and crossed the room, flinging open the window. “In that case, you won’t mind if I dispose of them.”
“Don’t you dare!” Georgie cried, jumping to his feet. “What if a crow flew away with that necklace?” Lawrence was about to protest that he didn’t give a damn if that was precisely what happened, when Georgie took a step forward. “That necklace,” he repeated. “My God. Who made it? It wasn’t Rundell and Bridge, I don’t think,” he murmured with the air of an expert.
“So you’ll take them.” Lawrence didn’t know the value of any of these jewels but figured the necklace alone would be enough to provide for Georgie in reasonable comfort for the rest of his days.
