Dangerous in Diamonds - Madeline Hunter [111]
“Actually, I am of like mind with the others,” Summerhays said. “It is why you have us here, is it not? To give you courage as you send part of your old life to the funeral pyre?”
“Hell, are you going to be boring too? You are all here because I thought it would be fun. Mistake, that, I can see now. Hawkeswell, stop being so tediously serious. Damn, you will probably start composing a poetic eulogy to those ropes and boards soon.”
“A splendid idea, actually. Allow me,” Summerhays said.
He stood and cleared his throat. “We gather here today to bid farewell to a special piece of furniture. Most beds remain nothing more than a collection of wood and hemp. They serve their purpose without complaint or praise. They know their place in the grand design, and it is a humble place. Some beds, however, most notably the one that we today send to its just rewards in the afterlife—”
“Hell, I assume that would be,” Albrighton quipped.
“Would you care to take over?” Summerhays asked.
“I could never match your eloquence. Pray, continue.”
“Some beds rise above the ordinary and make their marks on the history of man. Today we say good-bye to that rarity in the world, a great bed. A bed that saw more pleasure in a fortnight than most see in their entire existence. A bed that inspired fortitude and creativity previously unknown in sensual endeavors.” He raised his glass and his voice. “Gentlemen, let us give this noble bed the honor it is due.” He drank and threw the glass into the fireplace. The flames jumped high. The workers jumped back.
Albrighton’s glass followed.
Hawkeswell cast his own forward. “Damnation, I think I am going to weep.”
Castleford hesitated, appreciating rather suddenly the potential symbolism. He rather wished he had named the damned bed, so he could send it off properly.
He noticed the others watching him pause, Hawkeswell rather hopefully.
Summerhays smiled. “It is truly time, Your Grace. There is better to be had than you ever knew in it. Trust all of us that this is true.”
Laughing at that notion, but with more trust than he would ever admit, Castleford threw his glass forward.
Daphne could not have asked to travel to London in more style. Castleford’s coach rolled up to The Rarest Blooms with two footmen standing behind all decked out in their livery. Once inside she noticed that a basket with some wine and fruit waited, and a lap blanket should she find the day too cool.
Upon arriving at the duke’s house, servants swarmed to serve her. The butler came out to open the coach’s door himself, as if she were a duchess.
Another figure showed. Castleford himself stepped out of the house to greet her. The honor took her aback and made her pause before walking forward to join him. She looked at him intently, at how his body communicated utter confidence and how his face displayed both indifference and intense interest in her arrival.
She looked long and carefully so she would always remember him there. She suspected she would be branding her mind a lot these next few days.
The butler handed her over to his master. Castleford drew her inside. “You should have come sooner,” he said, his tone very ducal and a little resentful.
“You did not invite me sooner.”
“I clearly told you that you were to come here. Hell, it has been two damned weeks.”
“I am here now, at least. We can have a row if you insist, but it will be a poor welcome.”
He drew her aside, to privacy. “We can have the row later.” He cupped her head with his hands and held her to a sweet kiss, one that made her heart shake. “I intend to make sure that by Monday, you do not want to leave.”
She barely managed to hide how that touched her. She would leave, whether she wanted to or not. By Monday she expected him to feel differently on the question too.
“I told the housekeeper that you would use that chamber you and she discovered near my apartment,” he said, taking her hand and leading