Page 88 of The Favourite

The other man scoffed. “Influence, my lord? Money? Lands?” he suggested skeptically.

“By all means, list them as motives if you think Wilhelm will find them more convincing. I just thought I would do you the curtesy of giving you the unvarnished truth.”

Lemarchier stared at him, then gave a short laugh. “If you have,” he said darkly, “then it would be the first time in your life, Vicomte. Truly it is, as they say, the de Balons’ speak at all times with a forked tongue.”

Alisander widened his eyes. “Is that what they say?” he asked softly. “How very interesting.”

Lemarchier gulped. “I meant no offence, my lord,” he said, crossing his fingers in the old way, to ward off evil. “It is simply well known, that—well—your family has a certain notoriety back in the Western Isles.”

“Ah, I see.” Alisander nodded slowly. “You refer to that old story, that we are cursed?”

The older man looked discomforted. “Nay, it was not that you are cursed—that is—I forget the particulars,” he faltered under Alisander’s unblinking gaze.

Alisander smiled. “Ah yes, I recall it now. It is those that cross us, that are cursed. Such a pretty little tale. Thank you for reminding me. It is good to remember one’s heritage. Forgetting the old ways … is never wise.”

Lemarchier, he thought, turned rather pale at that. He stayed another hour or so and helped the wretched man finish writing up his official account. The stuffing had been rather knocked out of him by this point, and he accepted Alisander’s dictation, meek as a lamb.

Alisander did not return to court directly on leaving Thicket Lane. Instead, he visited his favorite jeweler on Goldsmith’s Row. He wanted to check on the progress of a sapphire necklace he had ordered the Monday before his marriage and to collect an emerald brooch.

Mr. Haines presented the half-constructed necklace for his inspection, and so pleased was Alisander with its progress, that he immediately ordered a matching ring.

“For which finger, my lord?” Mr. Haines enquired politely, quill poised.

“My wife’s,” Alisander responded promptly. “Her fingers are neither slender nor stout in proportion. Instead, they are a sort of middling sort of size.”

Mr. Haines did not look impressed with this estimation. Instead, he turned and summoned his wife and two daughters for corroboration. “Hold up your hands for his lordship to compare,” he ordered.

The Haines womenfolk held up their hands obligingly for Alisander’s inspection. He scanned them keenly, settling at last on Mistress Haines, much to her satisfaction. “Madame’s third finger on her right hand looks to me a match.”

He turned to the jeweler. “You permit?” Mr. Haines looked mystified but nodded. Alisander turned back to the jeweler’s wife, lifting his own hand to carefully thread his fingers through hers. He closed his eyes a moment, then opened them to find four pairs of eyes watching him avidly.

He fancied both daughters were glad their fingers had not matched, for they looked rather fearful. Fortunately, their mother was made of sterner stuff. “Yes, the third finger is a close match,” he concluded, turning her hand over and placing a coin in its palm. “My thanks, madame.”

“Of course, milord.” She bobbed a curtsey. “I will be sure and remind Adelbert, for I am sure there will be more orders to follow.”

Alisander laughed. “You are very astute.”

Mr. Haines cleared his throat. “And now, Joan, you will fetch his lordship the emerald brooch.”

His purchase brought forth, Alisander unwrapped it from its cloth and inspected the glowing emerald. A slow smile curved his lips as attempted to view it through Jane’s eyes. No doubt she would think the stone overlarge and ostentatious, and that was before you took the large drop pearl and the heavy gold casing into consideration.

“It is perfection,” he pronounced, flipping it over to inspect the familiar engraving at the back.

Mr. Haines paused, waiting to see if Alisander would immediately pin it to his tunic. When he had first become a customer, the proprietor had been shocked by the fact Viscount Bardulf would wander the streets of Aphrany, decked in precious stones. In vain, he had tried to warn milord that he would be immediately imperiled and at the mercy of wicked thieves. Nowadays, he knew better than to waste his breath.

“I will take it wrapped today.”

“Then this, too, is also for your lady wife, milord?” Mistress Haines piped up, a knowing gleam in her eye as her husband slipped the brooch into a pouch and firmly tied the strings.

Had he not known better, Alisander would have thought the unaccustomed warmness that rushed to his cheeks was a blush. “Quite so,” he admitted, and the two daughters exchanged significant looks.

Outside the shop, he absently tipped the beggar that had followed him from Thicket Lane and made his way back toward the palace. There was a gathering he ought to attend in the lower gallery, he told himself firmly, for he was strangely tempted to return to his rooms and seek his wife out.

She would certainly be glad to see him, for it did not suit her at all to remain in their quarters. Still, it would not do for him to give everyone the impression he was prostrate at her feet these days. No, he decided, he would not look in on her, even briefly. Instead, he would leave Jane to languish until this evening. That, he thought with satisfaction, ought to make her all the keener for his company.

He found he regretted his decision a few times as the afternoon wore on. The Vlandivarian ambassador was new in post and incredibly sincere, a truly hideous combination. After introductions, Alisander retreated to a safe distance to watch his fellow representatives at work.

“I give the fellow six months,” murmured Signore Albrici, a seasoned diplomat, halting beside him.