Christian wasn’t used to traveling with his equipment. He rarely made home visits—but the man was a duke.
And he, Christian Bainbridge, could have been a knight, which verified the insanity said to roam the halls of Carlton House. He prayed he didn’t have to visit Prinny again this year.
Gordon Pennington, his trusty partner, stumbled into the room, swearing beneath his breath, and kicking the study door shut behind him. “Did you truly need all of these? Enough gadgets to repair every device in Yorkshire. Didn’t we discuss learning to work with less?” He deposited a trunk to the floor with a thump and a groan, then sent Christian a look that said, don’t say a word.
“Some business associate you are,” Christian murmured with a smile he made sure to cast away from the man who was, in reality, his best friend. His only friend.
“I’m a guard, Kit, not a business associate.” With a grunt, he went to his knee, produced a knife from his waistcoat pocket, and proceeded to pick the trunk’s lock.
Christian rolled his eyes. “I have the key, you know. And remember, Penny, to the ton, you’re my valet.” Although broad-shouldered, ham-fisted Penny looked like no valet Christian had ever seen.
“No need for a key. Your valet trained in the back alleys of Whitechapel in preparation for his duties protecting the most expensive timepieces in Christendom. And the watchmaker who created them. Thievery, lockpicking, forgery. Gordon Pennington, at your service.” He snapped the knife shut and slipped it in his pocket. “I’m ill-used in this role, to put it plainly. But the pay is ample, the attire first-rate, and the danger slight. Women like the valet title, too, I’ve found. Makes me seem refined.”
Christian laughed and situated his tools in a neat row on the duke’s rather imposing mahogany desk. “I thought it a good idea after you saved me from being gutted on the docks all those years ago to repay the favor and offer you a more enviable position. Plus, weren’t we both surprised to find that you’re the best bookkeeping in the city? Larceny certainly fostered a talent for addition and subtraction. I’d be lost without you.” He shifted to remove a folio from his satchel, unwittingly releasing a hint of jasmine. A strong enough presence to brush aside the aroma of leather and bergamot currently occupying the study. Katherine liked to scent her letters, and he’d crammed one in his bag as he rushed from his Berkeley Square townhome. “By the by, did you have the necklace delivered?”
Penny snickered and collapsed into an armchair, sending his long legs into a sprawl before him. “Your typical parting gift with me as solemn messenger, you mean? Then, yes, I did. Lady Wheaton was composed but furious. Slammed the door in my face. After snatching your expensive settlement from my hand.” He yawned and stacked one glossy boot atop the other. “Why not give them a watch when you’ve decided enough is enough? I’ll allow you a steep discount and even have it engraved for free. Your jeweler is robbing you blind with these tokens of lost affection.”
“Not going to happen,” Christian said and perched his hip against the desk, the folio spilling open in his hands, Katherine Wheaton’s letter peeking from behind a bent page to mock him. His watches were personal; he’d poured his whole bloody existence into their creation. It was like giving a part of himself away when he sold one, which he realized was ridiculous for a man of trade.
The first time he’d taken a watch apart and put it back together had been the only time, aside from the girl on the veranda who’d knocked the breath from him years ago at Tavistock House, when his heart had wholly ruled his mind.
When he fell in love, if he ever fell in love, his wife would wear one of his watches. Which would mean more to him than any ring ever could. He would wait to find the woman who would understand that. Who would know without him having to tell her.
He slammed the folio shut, feeling the sting of dissatisfaction.
That was not happening as he’d given up on love.
At the moment, his loneliness was palpable but hidden, thriving despite the adoring mistresses he surrounded himself with. He’d tried, repeatedly, but there seemed little point in searching for what was not there. Had only been there that one time, a spark he’d extinguished by leaving before he even spoke to the girl.
“You’re getting that sullen look again,” Penny murmured from the chair, his lids low, close to sleep if Christian had his guess. “And we have no women, not yet, to lift you from your melancholy.”
Christian shook himself from his stupor, slipped a letter from the folio, and flipped it between his hands. “I’m worried about the translations, which I’d hoped to work on during my time here,” he lied, tapping the envelope against his palm. “A German watchmaker I’m in contact with tried to build a detached escapement caliber, but it failed, and he sent me details on the design in the event I’d like to have a go. But German’s not my area of expertise, and English not his. Parts of the missive are incomprehensible, at least to me.”
“I took care of it, whatever an escapement caliber is,” Penny said with another yawn. “I discussed your dilemma with Miss Miller, the housekeeper, upon our arrival. A lovely thing with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. Like the sky in the middle of summer. Delightful. But back to the
