His greeting seemed extraordinarily stiff compared to her more effusive, warmer one.
She smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, a reminder that she was not the usual débutante; she was far more worldly, able to understand the underlying nuances of conversation. He had not called her Lilya and she took it as a subtle rebuke. ‘The weather is lovely. We’ve had so little sun this year, it seems a special treat.’
The weather was duly dispatched and they stood facing one another for an awkward moment until Mr Brown broke in. ‘I’ll get the viscount’s things. My lord, I’ve laid out some trays if you’d like to begin looking.’
‘Yes, thank you, Mr Brown.’ Beldon turned back to the trays, immediately aware of his new dilemma. A gentleman did not ignore the presence of a lady, particularly when they were the only two people present. But a gentleman also did not discuss his affairs with a lady.
Lilya materialised at his side, having crossed the small space quietly. ‘It is awkward, is it not? All this formality when we’re not exactly strangers. It seems silly to have to pretend.’
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask precisely what they were when Mr Brown returned with a small package. ‘Here are the rings the viscount had sent in to be reset.’
Lilya took the package. ‘And the parure? Lady St Just said there would be two packages.’
Mr Brown excused himself again.
‘Val and Philippa are having the St Just jewels remounted in more modern settings,’ she explained. It was the perfect invitation to share his reason for being here. He chose to pass up the opportunity, but Lilya proved tenacious and perceptive.
‘Are you selecting a betrothal piece? ‘
He felt compelled to correct her. ‘No, there are jewels in the family vault for that. I merely wanted to select a sincerity piece.’
‘That’s a very kind gesture. I am sure whatever you choose will be lovely.’
That decreed a certain challenge. Would she tell him the truth if he picked something unacceptable? He had a rather perverse urge to find out. He picked up a necklace. ‘I was thinking of this.’
The piece was pretty enough, but he knew it was wrong, too showy for his purposes. Would Lilya know? Would she say anything? A typical lady would not dare to contradict him. Lilya did not hesitate. She smiled and shook her head.
‘Perhaps after you’re officially engaged,’ she said gently. ‘A necklace is too sophisticated, I think, for your intentions at present.’
Something dangerous and volatile sparked to life between them. He should leave well enough alone, but the devil in him was already awake and wanting his due. How would she handle it?
‘What are those intentions?’ Beldon asked in gravelly tones more appropriate for seduction than shopping. Truly he knew better than to stoke this ambiguous fire she roused in him.
‘You tell me. They’re your intentions.’ She studied him with sharp eyes, missing nothing of the innuendo, of the change in the atmosphere between them.
There it was. She’d called him out. This was his chance to declare himself. What a bold piece she was and yet she pulled off that boldness without seeming unladylike. Really, it was quite admirable.
Mr Brown returned with the second package. He handed it to Lilya and noted the necklace still dangling from Beldon’s hand. ‘Ah, you’ve made a choice, then? The necklace is very nice.’
Beldon skewered the smaller man with an imperial stare, his voice cold. ‘Very nice, but very wrong for my cause,’ he corrected. ‘A decent gentleman would not give such a piece to his bride.’
The man had the good grace to colour at the implication: he’d been caught toadying.
‘Perhaps something in pink?’ Lilya offered. It was meant to be a helpful suggestion, but Beldon saw the challenge behind it. Pink could only be for one person. But Lilya was right and Beldon saw no reason to disagree. A pink gem would be lovely and meaningful to Lady Eleanor. As long as they didn’t say Lady Eleanor’s name out loud, it wasn’t as if he was outright asking one woman to help him select jewellery for another.
Trays were taken away and others brought out from behind the locked cabinet, far more than he’d expected. He’d not anticipated such a variety. In tacit agreement, he and Lilya sat back down on the bench.
‘A ring, then?’ Beldon randomly chose one of the dozens of rings on display, suddenly less interested in what had brought him here in the first place and more interested in Lilya’s response. He had jewels aplenty in the Pendennys vault. He would save those for a wedding gift, or an anniversary gift. The Pendennys emeralds were heavy pieces. Every time he thought of Lady Eleanor in them, he imagined her bent over from the weight of them. They were not jewels for a girl.
Lilya laughed sweetly and took pity on him. ‘A bracelet or a pin would be best.’ She motioned to the jeweller. ‘You can put away all the trays but these three here.’
‘I can see that I would have made a disaster of this on my own.’ He should not have said that. It was entirely wrong, entirely too familiar. He was joking with her as if they were friends when everyone knew a man could not be friends with a lady. He could feel his jaw tightening. It was too easy to be charmed by Lilya—by her graceful gestures, by the subtle way she’d taken control of the situation.
She threw him a sidelong glance as if to say she doubted that, that she was on to his game of provoking her. Her eyes danced with an implicit understanding of their secret game. She turned back to study the trays. ‘This coral-and-pearl piece would be perfect.’
It was indeed quite the perfect piece: a cameo habille, a jewel within a jewel. Beldon could find no quarrel with it. He would have selected it himself, left to his own devices. In spite of the game he played with Lilya, he did know a thing or two about jewellery. The cameo was of angelskin coral in the palest shades of pink, a tiny stone of pink jasper set on the cameo’s bosom giving it the jewel within a jewel. Eleanor would be able to wear it pinned to a gown.
Lilya leaned forwards and spoke quietly, a finger tracing the fine lines of the cameo. ‘What better way to tell her of your feelings than that you view her as your very own jewel within a jewel, a woman you love as much for her beauty on the outside as her beauty on the inside?’
The sentiment surprised him. Is that what women saw in jewellery? No wonder they coveted it. Did men have any idea what secret messages they were sending? More importantly, is that what he meant by giving Lady Eleanor this gift? Admittedly, Lilya’s words had something of a shocking effect on him. The sentiment she expressed was noble and fine. But could he give Lady Eleanor such a gift, knowing the message behind it to be a lie? He hoped such sentiment would be true eventually. As of today, it was not. He had no idea if Lady Eleanor was a lovely person on the inside.She was precisely what she’d been bred to be, a blank slate for her husband to write on. A blanker slate, Beldon could not imagine. He simply didn’t know. He knew only that she fit his criteria. He stilled for a moment, a horrible thought coming to him.
What if your criteria are wrong? What if you need more? The thought was practically blasphemous. He should not even give credence to it. But there’d been a lot already today he should not have done, starting with allowing Lilya to sit down beside him. He’d played with fire and now he was getting burned, absolutely and
