Still, he had not been on the Town this long without learning to a nicety how the game should be played. When a man broke off with his mistress (and one might certainly argue that it had certainly been he who had broken off with her, by refusing to acquiesce to her last and most outrageous request), he gave the woman her congé in the form of an expensive farewell gift. Well, La Fantasia would soon discover that her erstwhile protector was no less a knowing one than any gentleman many years his senior. He stopped by his flat only long enough to put on fresh clothing (including a black band on the sleeve of his coat to indicate his bereaved state), then set out for Rundell and Bridge, jewelers to the king for longer than Theodore had been alive.
He had not exaggerated when he’d told La Fantasia that his credit was good. Mssrs. Philip Rundell and John Bridge had not attained their present position without keeping au courant with the doings of the aristocracy, and they were quick to offer their condolences to the young man who entered their establishment with his jaw set, yet something of vulnerability in his green eyes.
“And what may we show you today, your grace?” Mr. Rundell asked at the conclusion of these expressions of sympathy. “Dare we hope there is soon to be a new Duchess of Reddington? It has been a long time, I believe, since that title was graced by your late mother. I had the honor of designing her wedding ring.”
Theodore, ignoring these hints, came straight to the point. “Show me the most expensive thing you’ve got.”
This, when it was brought out from the back room and the safe in which it usually resided, proved to be an ornate necklace so laden with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires that it might have served any knight of old as a breastplate. In truth, Theodore found it more than a little vulgar. In spite of his bleak mood, a smile tugged at his lips at the thought of his brother-in-law presenting so gaudy a piece to his sister—as he might well have done in the early days of their marriage, before she had taken on the task of informing her husband’s tastes. But its vulgarity, Theodore decided, was perfectly in keeping with the woman upon whom he intended to bestow it, the same woman from whose presence he had been driven only a few hours earlier.
“I’ll take it,” he pronounced.
His resolution suffered a slight check when he was informed of the price of this token, but the ache in his shoulder served to strengthen his resolve. He would send the piece to La Fantasia, and be vindicated when the ton whispered behind its hands that Tisdale—no, Reddington!—had behaved just as he ought. As for the gift’s recipient, let her own actions bear witness to her unsuitability for the position she coveted; his own conduct would be above reproach.
“Excellent, excellent!” exclaimed Mr. Rundell, who had secretly feared that the showy piece of his partner’s design was a bit much, and that they would eventually be obliged to remove the gemstones and melt down the gold in order to fashion less ambitious, yet more marketable, examples of the jeweler’s art.
“Er, I haven’t the funds to pay for it today,” Theodore began, only to be cut short.
“No need to trouble yourself, my lord—er, your grace,” Mr. Rundell assured him hastily. “I’m sure we can repose every confidence in you to settle your account after your affairs have been set in order. Now, shall you present it to the lady yourself, or would you prefer to have it delivered?”
Theodore considered with some satisfaction the vision of himself bestowing the necklace upon La Fantasia in person, nobly forgiving her for her ill treatment of him even as he gently but firmly rebuffed her tearful pleas for him to take her back. Gratifying as this vision was, he was practical enough to acknowledge that she was more likely to throw something at his head than to beg for a reconciliation; La Fantasia, he knew from experience, was not the begging kind.
“Deliver it to Half Moon Street,” he said decisively. “Number nineteen.” He requested paper and pen with which he might compose a note, and upon this being brought, he scrawled, Let this token serve to express my best wishes for your future happiness. It has been a most educational experience. La Fantasia, he felt sure, would recognize the double meaning. Out of long habit, he signed himself simply T for Tisdale, then, after a moment’s consideration, added several letters and a few words, so that it read Theodore, Duke of Reddington.
3
How well those live who are comfortably and thoroughly
in debt . . . how jolly and easy they are in their minds.
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY, Vanity Fair
HAVING DISPATCHED LA Fantasia to, presumably, the eager arms of Lord Iversleigh, Theodore found himself sadly at loose ends. London was extremely thin of company in autumn, and would very likely remain so until Parliament reconvened in November. And even if the ton had been in residence and the Season in full spate, the fact that he was in mourning would have precluded his participation in most of
