Citit - The Earl Claims a Bride by Amelia Grey

Author:Amelia Grey [Grey, Amelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

And by the way let us recount our dreams.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream 4.4.198

A bell jangled as Bishop Worsley opened the door of Highgate’s Furnishings and Antiquities Shop at Number Four-Fifty-Five South Lambert Street. It had taken several days, but he’d finally completed his search and decided which establishment they needed to approach about acquiring Angelina’s paintings. He’d said he wanted a place that sold expensive items where only the crème de la crème of Society made their purchases.

Angelina was the first to step into the well-lighted room, followed by her grandmother and then the bishop who carried the large satchel filled with an assortment of her work. At once Angelina noticed the pleasant fragrance of spicy incense. The room was filled with well-placed furniture. Paintings, tapestries, and mirrors of every size, shape, and dimension hung on the walls. Different styles of urns, vases, lamps, and all manner of small household accessories were attractively placed around the room. A basket of fresh flowers was placed on one of the side tables and a silver tea service on another.

The shop owner evidently wanted to cater to the traditional buyer. There were none of the bizarre things that seemed to be so popular in homes the past few years. No stone gargoyles with big emerald eyes, no stuffed heads of boars, bears, or other animals, and no life-sized statues of Athena, Venus, Zeus, or any of the other Greek gods or goddesses. Almost anyone who entered his place of business would feel comfortable and find something conventional to take with them when they left. That the shop had such a large variety of things to choose from gave Angelina hope. According to Bishop Worsley, other than the duchess, this man was her best chance of obtaining money to help her father.

“Good afternoon, ladies, sir,” a stout-built man of average height said, appearing from a room at the back of the store. “Welcome to Highgate’s. I’m the owner and I’ll be happy to assist you with any questions. Or you may feel free to browse on your own with no disturbance from me. Whatever you prefer.”

“Thank you, Mr. Highgate,” Bishop Worsley said, stepping forward. “I’m Mr. Hugh Walters. This is my wife, Mrs. Walters, and our niece Miss Paulette Savill. We’d like a moment of your time if we may.”

Angelina breathed a sigh of relief at how easily Bishop Worsley handled the made-up names.

“Of course,” he said with a closed-lip smile. “But my name isn’t Highgate. That was the name of the shop when I bought it many years ago and I had no reason to change it. I’m Mr. Eyston. How can I help you?”

“We have some paintings we were hoping you’d buy from us to sell in your shop. We’d be pleased if you’d take a look at them and consider it.”

The man glanced down at the satchel as if it were a distasteful object, and then gave the bishop a dubious look. Angelina’s heart sank.

“You have paintings in that?” the man asked.

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