Unbuttoning Miss Hardwick (11 page)

‘Then I should be brilliantly prepared for today’s interview,’ he said with a scowl.

‘I fear it won’t be so easy.’

‘Why ever not?’

She smiled. ‘Because the keeper of this shop is
Signor Pisano.’

‘And?’

Chloe allowed her gaze to run a leisurely course along the appealing length of him. ‘And the
signor
does not approve of arrogant noblemen. He does not approve of anyone who keeps a private collection and refuses to grant access to scholars or other interested parties.’ She placed a hand square upon the centre of his chest, ignoring the thrilling sparks that stiffened her fingers and coursed along her arm. ‘Most especially, my lord, the
signor
does not approve of you.’

Without waiting for a response, she whirled and entered the shop.

The bell over the door tinkled softly. Chloe paused to take a deep breath and gather herself. The front room glowed warm in the afternoon light. She stepped further in, ran her hand along one of the many wood cases and allowed herself to be transported. Beeswax and ammonia, a hint of harsh chemicals and lush, heavy notes of
café au lait
—the scents in this room never failed to make her feel like a girl again.

A girl reassured by the constant nature of the place. The configuration of handsome shelves and cabinets along the wall and glass-topped display cases marching through the centre never changed, and neither did her welcome here.

A soft step from the back, the ring of a curtain being pulled, and then the familiar cry. ‘Chloe, my dear, come in, come in!’ Signor Pisano beckoned. ‘I began to fear you had forgotten me.’

Remorse seized her, and dread, to see her old friend so frail and bent over. ‘Never, dear sir,’ she said. She obeyed his summons, infusing all the warmth she could into her words and the press of her hand on his.

The bell rang again. The
signor
gazed over her shoulder with pleased expectation—and then he recognised the marquess. His expression grew sour as he glanced back to her. ‘You’ve brought your employer along this time, I see.’

‘Indeed.’ She waved at the marquess. ‘Do come over, my lord, and allow me to present Signor Pisano, the proprietor of this establishment. He is the only man I have ever met who might surpass even your knowledge of ancient weapons.’

He came, taking his time and taking everything in with clear interest. Chloe saw the moment that his eye fell on the display of blades in the specially designed long case, but he did not pause. He reached them, made a smart bow and said with every evidence of sincerity, ‘It is indeed a pleasure,
signor.
May I compliment you on the neatness and organisation of the premises? It feels as if each of your treasures is celebrated and not merely available for purchase.’

Chloe’s mouth dropped. Never had she seen Signor Pisano flush with pleasure over a bit of flattery, but the marquess had clearly caught him off guard.

‘Indeed,’ Lord Marland continued, ‘this feels more like a museum than any shop I’ve ever been in.’

‘An astute observation, my lord,’ Chloe said.
‘Signor Pisano was once head curator of a very fine museum in Padua.’

‘
Si,
before French troops came and stripped it bare.’ The
signor
sighed. ‘It was all long ago.’

‘And may I ask how you came to be acquainted with our Hardwick?’ the marquess asked.

Now it was Chloe’s turn to colour up. ‘Signor Pisano was a great friend of my father’s,’ she answered quickly.

‘Of
both
your fathers,’ the old man said sharply. ‘And your dear mother as well.’ He sighed. ‘Ah, Chloe, though proud they all would surely be of the way you’ve managed, I know they would each agree that it is time for you to give up this nonsensical position, working for
him
.’ He gestured toward the marquess. ‘It’s time you found a man,
cara mia,
and made some babies for me to spoil. It is not to much to ask, is it, before I go to my reward?’

Coloured up? Chloe knew her face had gone a deeper scarlet than the brightly painted rims on his lordship’s phaeton. ‘Please,
signor.
Now is not the time for that old argument.’

‘Si,’
he agreed with a sigh. ‘With you it is never the time. But,
cara,
do you think I do not know why you have come? And brought him along with you?’ The old man rolled his eyes. ‘You will forgive the bluntness of old age, my lord, but I feel I must tell you the truth. Chloe must, of course, always be welcome here. But I am not so pleased to see you on my doorstep.’

‘I will readily forgive you, sir, if you will but tell me why you feel this way.’

‘It is because I am no fool, sir! I know why you are here and I want no part in it. Do you think it has been easy, staying out of this mess so far? No! It has been a trial—and now, your very presence here has made it all for naught.’

Chloe exchanged a glance with the marquess. ‘Come,
signor.
’ She pulled over a stool. ‘Come and sit. And please, tell us.’

‘Tell you what?’ the old man demanded, easing onto the seat and waving an irritable hand in the air. ‘Tell you what a circus it has become, the search for this cursed item? How every collector in England is here in London and in a frenzy? Night and day they come, pestering, questioning, searching for some titbit about Skanda’s Spear. And you are no different, my lord. Are you not here for the same purpose?’

His face darkening, the marquess nodded. For the first time, Chloe began to wonder if this had been a mistake.

Signor Pisano was eyeing Lord Marland’s tall form in patent disgust. His wavering finger pointed dismissively to the marquess’s wide shoulders. ‘Pah,’ he spat. ‘So you might well be the biggest hound in this hunt, but you are not the most experienced, nor even the richest, if rumour is to be believed. And the Spear is no ordinary artefact. It’s going to take more than a title and a heavy purse to bag the prize.’

She moved to help as the old man slid off the stool, but he waved her irritably away. ‘Well, come along, then,’ he ordered as he stalked to a dark corner in the rear of the shopfront. ‘For Chloe’s sake I will not order you from my establishment, but I will be damned if I will leave you in plain sight for all the world to see. One hint of you spending the afternoon and my life, it will not be worth the living.’ He made his way to an elaborately carved wardrobe near the back. Yanking open the door, he stabbed a finger into the shadowed space behind it. ‘Back here!’ he ordered.

Lord Marland hesitated.

‘It won’t do you any good to tip your hand too early, either,’ the older man said crossly. ‘There is a great deal of talk about your collection and even more bitterness over some of your triumphant acquisitions.’ He shrugged. ‘The rest of them are likely to close ranks against you, but if you are willing to take the chance…’

The marquess stared at her. Chloe lifted a shoulder. ‘Can we not go along with it?’ she asked in a whisper. ‘He’s likely right about building resentment. And while he may be old and eccentric, he’s also our best chance for obtaining solid information on the status of the Spear.’

After a long moment of scrutiny, he nodded. ‘If we are to keep this meeting clandestine,’ Lord Marland called to the
signor
, ‘then leaving my phaeton to wait outside is counterproductive. I’ll send my groom on.’ He looked to Chloe again. ‘If you will not mind the walk back.’

‘Of course not.’ She nodded and raised her voice. ‘The
signor
is right and we must do what we can to protect his peace of mind.’

It took but a moment for the marquess to speak to his man. He re-entered the shop to the tinkling accompaniment of the bells and made his way to the back.

‘Dio mio,’
the
signor
groaned as Lord Marland slid into the dark corner. ‘Even this is not enough to disguise your bulk.’ He reached out and pinched the marquess on the arm. ‘What do they feed the boys in the north?’

‘Why do we not just retire to the back room,
signor
?’ Chloe asked.

‘No, no,’ he grumped in answer. ‘There is a window on to the alley. It is one of the reasons I took these rooms—for the light. So many delicate pieces—I must have light to work. And these foolish treasure seekers grow desperate. The shop is closed and they sneak around to the back and pound upon the glass. The shop is open and they sneak around, hoping to find something that I do not have. It is a misery, I tell you.’

‘I have no wish to inconvenience you. Nor do I have time to waste. Perhaps we had best go then, if you have nothing to say about the Spear. Hardwick?’ The marquess gestured towards the door. ‘Traffic is growing thick outside. We might still catch my groom.’

‘I did not say I had nothing to say!’ The old man rolled his eyes. ‘I said I had nothing to say to them.’

Chloe bit back a grin. Lord Marland merely crossed his arms and waited.

‘The first thing I must tell you is that your wisest course would be to abandon your quest right now.’
Signor Pisano gave a shudder. ‘For many years I have heard tales of this Spear. Quiet rumblings and rumours, mostly. In all that time I have only heard of despair coming to those that possess it.’

‘Is it the curse that you speak of?’ Chloe asked. ‘I confess, I do not know the details, but I am surprised that you would lend it credence.’

The old man nodded. ‘Anyone with experience will tell you that most of these tales—curses or hauntings or ill omens—are nonsense, often invented to drive up the value of a piece.’

‘Most?’ Lord Marland prodded.

‘Si.’
The
signor
drew a deep breath. ‘I have met every sort of character in my long years in this field. Now I speak of one man in particular. He was not a good man,’ he said bleakly. For a moment he held silent. ‘He came from the East. He knew the value of fear. He inspired it often and easily—and he never failed to make a profit from it.’ He raised his gaze and met her own. ‘And yet, the only thing I ever knew
him
to be afraid of was Skanda’s Spear.’

Silence hung heavy after his pronouncement, but Signor Pisano was speaking volumes with his gaze. Chloe started when the shop bell rang out again, sharp and impatient.

‘Pisano!’ a new voice called. ‘Come out here at once! I would speak with you!’

The
signor
shot Lord Marland a look of accusation and disgust, then his visage wiped clean, he stepped around the opened wardrobe door and turned to greet his customer. ‘Ah, Mr Laxton, such a surprise, to see you again so soon. I shall be pleased to help you, just as soon as I have finished with this lovely couple.’

Laxton! Chloe took a step deeper into the shadows, closer to the marquess. She lifted a finger to her lips and Lord Marland, understanding, nodded. Laxton was another collector, rich as Croesus, due to his father’s luck with diamonds in South Africa, and ruthless in his pursuit of a piece. He and Hardwick had clashed several times in the past, and he was still smarting furiously over her victory in obtaining the Japanese pole arm for the marquess.

‘I won’t be put off, Pisano,’ Laxton snarled. ‘Word is racing through the streets that Marland was seen entering your shop this morning. I hope you have not forgotten who your best customer might be. I’ve dropped a damned good amount of money here. You had better not be holding out on me, in favour of him.’

Chloe bit her lip. The man could not see her or the marquess, she was certain, due to the wardrobe door and the dim light, but she turned and began to examine the stacked paintings leaning against the wall. If she needed to, she could lift one to cover her face, or Lord Marland’s.

‘You wound me, sir, believing sordid rumour over my own word. I told you, I know nothing of Skanda’s Spear. And so I should tell the Marauding Marquess, should he ever grace my humble establishment with his patronage. Now, if you will excuse me, this young lady and her husband are searching for some artwork for their new home.’ The
signor
turned his back on the man. He waggled his eyebrows dramatically in Chloe’s direction and pointed towards the curtain leading to the back.

‘They can damned well look over your stacks of musty paintings on their own,’ Laxton demanded. ‘I want you to go over this list with me. It is a reckoning of all the previous owners of the Spear that I have been able to track down. See if you can add to the tally.’

Signor Pisano sighed. ‘Do forgive me, my fine lady,’ he said turning to face Chloe. ‘Perhaps it would be best if I see to Mr Laxton. I believe he will not be staying long.’ He started to turn away, but then stopped, his face brightening. ‘Ah, but I have been struck with an idea. It grieves me that you have found nothing to please you, but I have been assembling a collection that might interest you. I have been working on them in the back room, preparing them for display, but I would not mind if you stepped back there to have a look. Yes—right through that curtain. First door on the right.’ In front of him, where Laxton could not see, he made shooing motions with his hands.

Chloe looked to Lord Marland. A storm brewed over his brow. His fists were clenched and he looked in no way inclined to go along with the
signor
’s ruse. She bit her lip. She’d seen a boxing match once, at the village fair. And right now the marquess resembled nothing so much as a pugilist ready to step from his corner and pummel his opponent.

She scowled and shook her head at him. Greatly daring, she reached out and put her hand on his arm. She murmured a faint assent to Signor Pisano and tugged the marquess through the curtain.

His coat was of the softest superfine, but the arm beneath was rock-hard and radiating tension. He yanked away from her as they stepped along a narrow corridor and into the more brightly lit workroom.

Chloe closed the door and pressed her ear to it. Only the faintest murmur of the men’s voices was audible from here. Inside, the marquess began to pace with the restless grace of a caged tiger. She leaned against the door for a moment, waiting for the strength of the hard wood beneath her fingers to replace the echoing feel of his flesh.