"Paste, I am sure," Kenyon scoffed, but Aurora was all for going to look. "No reason not to save money," she said from lifelong habit learned at her Scots uncle Ptolemy's knee.
"An' No More Morris wouldn't cheat no friend of mine. He's a collector, don't you know. Only has the best."
And he only had two gold balls hanging outside his ramshackle, rundown shop. The other had fallen to the ground, some time in the last century. "It's a deuced pawn shop!" Kenyon complained as Ned went to the horses' heads.
"But not a fence, guv'nor. I wouldn't bring 'er ladyship to no criminal ken, don't you know. All the folks what bring their merchandise to No More has swallowed a spider, legitimate. Most are swells, too."
Aurora needed a translation.
"Your protégé seems to believe that all the goods herein come from the homes of the upper classes, those who find themselves temporarily financially embarrassed."
She nodded, taking his arm as they walked through the narrow door and hoping he would stop fretting about leaving his cattle in Ned's hands. "Debtors. I should think that selling off their heirlooms is preferable to going to Fleet Prison. At least their creditors might be paid."
Kenyon wasn't listening. "Great gods, is that a Tintoretto?" He had his quizzing glass out, examining the dark canvas in its heavy gold frame.
While he and Mr. Morris enthused over the painting's provenance, then moved on to examine what might be a Turner in better light, an unknown Madonna of the Italianate School, and a vase that No More wouldn't swear to being Ming, but looked to be a perfect match to one at Warriner House, Aurora wandered around, ignored.
The shelves were crowded and dusty, the glass cases of jewelry so dirty she had a hard time viewing the contents, and the light so bad that she mistook a sleeping cat for a marble sculpture. Mr. No More Morris might be a collector, but he was no housekeeper.
Not knowing Lady Anstruther-Jones, of course, Aurora had no idea of the woman's taste, but couldn't find anything that she thought might be a suitable gift. The diamonds resembled crystal chandeliers, the pearls were the size of birds' eggs, and the emeralds looked like they belonged on Cleopatra's breastplate. No woman of refinement would wear such gaudy pieces, except to a masquerade.
Perhaps a well-traveled, elderly lady would like an antique book. Aurora picked one off a pile on the floor, only to have the gold-leafed cover come off in her hands. She sneezed, from the dust or the cat, and her husband looked up, as if suddenly remembering her existence. "One of these will be perfect for the viscountess. Why don't you pick out a necklace for yourself while Morris shows me what he has in the back room?"
There was more of the stuff? Aurora sighed, then dutifully regarded the jewelry again. She'd rather have the cat. On top of one of the cases, though, she spotted a gold filigree butterfly on a wooden base. Lifting it, she saw that a key on the bottom made the butterfly sway and turn to a tinkling little tune. Aunt Thisbe would adore it. Aurora held onto the music box, thinking to show Ned, so he could return for it once she had an allowance of her own and could afford to buy gifts for her aunt and uncle.
Kenyon and the proprietor returned to the shop's front room, both carrying stacks of paintings and portfolios. When Mr. Morris went back for the rest, and string to tie them with, the earl grinned at Aurora. "Can you believe I found a Leonardo sketch? I'm sure it's his, with the mirror writing. It's a lovely piece on its own, even if it does turn out to be by one of his students. And the price was too good to pass up. What a find this place is! I'll have to apologize to Needles, and make sure he doesn't tell anyone else about it. Did you find something you like?"
"Just this, for my"
She held up the music box, but a collection of snuff boxes caught his eye. He had to squint to see them in the poor light. "Fine, fine, whatever you like, my dear."
Just then a shelf full of clocks started to toll the hour. Some chimed, some gonged, one had a little bird that warbled, and another was in the shape of a ship that rocked. They did not all finish at the same time, either. But they did remind the earl that they were expected all the way across the City. "Confound it, we'll be late if we don't hurry. Morris, add her ladyship's purchase to my bill, and send the lot to the Grand Hotel." He tucked the small Italian Madonna under his arm and led Aurora out to where Ned was waiting with the curricle.
"All right 'n tight, m'lord. I walked 'em just like you said."
"Good lad. We'll have to see about fitting you with a suit of livery."
Ned's thin chest swelled with pride. So did Aurora's. "Thank you, Kenyon," she said when Ned had scrambled up behind and they were under way again. "That's a better present than anything you could have bought me.
"What did I buy you, actually? I'm sorry I got so caught up in the artwork. I have been looking to add to the family's collection of paintings for years, without finding much of interest."
"I understand. I get that way in bookstores." She wound the music box to show him how it worked, but he could only spare a glance, since they were in traffic.
"That trumpery bit is what I bought you for a bride gift?"
"Actually you bought it for Aunt Thisbe. I thought it would go nicely with the butterfly collection."
"Thunderation, you must think me the worst kind of nip-cheese. Blister it, I meant to buy you something pretty this morning. A new wedding ring, at least. Now there's no time to get to the jeweler's."
"I don't mind, truly. I like wearing my mother's ring. I have so little of hers, you see, not even many memories."
As hard as it was to credit that a female was content with an insignificant gold band, Kenyon had to believe those guileless blue eyes. Still feeling guilty, though, he vowed to send for the Windham diamonds before another day had past. His loving first wife had financed her elopement to France with all of the other family pieces, but she'd left the diamonds at least. His sister had worn them for her come-out. Aurora should wear them for her introduction to the ton .
Meanwhile, he leaned back and called to Ned, "Bonnets. Where can I find bonnets in a hurry?"
"But there's no time, Kenyon, and I have two new hats already," she protested.
His grimace was opinion enough of her headgear. The yellow ruched affair she wore yesterday had made her look like a dandelion, and today's was a blue coal scuttle. "Master Needles?"
"Left at the corner, guv, then straight for ten blocks. Mam'selle Marie will will suffice."
His lordship's lips were twitching at Ned's quick study, but he asked, "A Frenchwoman?" After Genevieve, the entire breed was suspect.
"Mary Maloney. She be as French as Yorkshire puddin', Earl. But the gentry morts come down heavy for Frog legs."
"Frog legs?" Aurora thought of her uncle's beloved batrachians.
"He means the ladies will pay more for the cachet of French fashions."
"That's right, m'lord. Mary gets good cash for spoutin' a few mercies and wees."
" Mercis and oui's ," Aurora said, correcting him.
"That's what I said. Turn here, m'lord, and down that alley. Mary can't afford no street-front rent, but she matches the styles of them what does." He hopped down to take the horses' leads. "You tell her Needles sent you, and that 'er ladyship is aces wiff me."
Aurora didn't need a translation.' "Why, thank you, Ned."
She didn't need three new bonnets, either, but she got them, nevertheless. "The Countess of Windham cannot be seen in the same hat every day," her husband declared. Besides, he was having fun. Picking out bonnets was not nearly as exciting as selecting Lady Anstruther-Jones's gift, but Kenyon was finding a challenge in creating his own masterpiece. Some brims shielded Aurora's fine, high cheekbones; some ribbons clashed with her eyes; a few permitted too many gold curls to show, which might tempt a man into touching them. His favorite was the tiny jockey-style cap with the blue feather that curled down, almost to the corner of her mouth. No, he really liked the straw bonnet with the silk forget-me-nots peeping under the brim. The lace-trimmed satin, though, lent her a sophistication and maturity befitting a married woman. Aurora was laughing as he and Marie discussed her finer points. It was good to see her so carefree.
"We'll take them all," he announced. And parasols to match."
Aurora thought parasols were as silly an affectation as his looking glass, but naturally she did not say that. "Oh, I don't burn, so I have no need for a sunshade."
The parasols were not for the sun, it seemed, but to protect her from the stares and scrutiny of the gabble-mongers when they drove through the park.
"Surely no one would be so rude."
"Ruder," Kenyon swore, and Marie agreed. "They'll all be on tenterhooks to get a glimpse of the new countess, especially after word of the unconventional wedding arrives, which it will, every dowager and debutante having a bosom bow in Bath. You'll be happy to shield your face from their inspections. On the other hand, don't use the parasols too much. I want everyone to see what a beautiful bride I have."
He thought she was beautiful? Aurora floated to the carriage, not even noticing which new bonnet she wore.
Chapter Nine
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"And remember, don't admire any of Hortense's treasures overmuch," Kenyon warned Aurora as they passed through the doorway of Lady Anstruther-Jones's house. "She'll simply give you a fan or a hair comb if you don't express interest in anything grander, and that will be fine."