Seeing is Believing (2 page)

"That sounds wonderful," Cafon agreed with a smile. "Do you have time to work with me today? Or should I come back tomorrow?"

"Oh, um," Teofil stammered, rearranging the projects he had line up. "Now's fine. Did you want earrings or a ring?"

"Earrings," Cafon said promptly, smiling as Wystan set down the tray he'd brought in with him. "I gave him a ring last year, I'd be pushing my luck with a second."

"I think that was a ring Teofil designed, if I remember it correctly," Wystan mused thoughtfully, making Teofil's cheeks heat again as Cafon looked at him with renewed interest. "Gold with an outlying band of silver? Studded with diamonds?"

"That's it," Cafon said, obviously pleased that Wystan recalled it. Teofil fought not to fidget; that ring had been one of the first designs that Wystan hadn't tweaked before he created it. "Maybe something to match that? I assume you can get more diamonds to match?"

"Of course," Teofil assured him, smiling a little. "What type of earrings does he wear the most? Studs?"

"Studs and small hoops," Cafon answered, looking thoughtful. "Can you incorporate some colorful jewel in there? Maybe instead of diamonds?"

"What do you have in mind?" Teofil asked, studying the jewelry Wystan had brought in. None of it really suited, too colorful or flashy.

"He's got a hint of green in his eyes. I'd love to bring it out."

"I don't know how much small earrings would be able to do that," Teofil demurred, wondering if he could create a small hoop earring with the same band design but substitute emeralds or another jewel for diamonds.

"That's true," Cafon said, sighing regretfully before smiling again. "I'll settle for it matching the ring, then."

"Shall I create some designs for you?" Teofil suggested. "I can do a mock up of a few different styles, some incorporating green jewels if you like."

"That sounds good," Cafon accepted. "How long have you been working here?"

"Five years," Teofil answered absently, already sorting through earring designs that might fit with what he knew of Rathiel and the design of the ring he'd created last year.

Cafon whistled softly. "Little wonder you're so good at this then."

"Wystan's a good teacher, no matter what I say to his face," Teofil replied with a straight face, getting a half-hearted mutter of complaint from across the workroom where Wystan was lost in some design or another.

Cafon laughed, his eyes bright with mirth. "Would I be out of line if I asked who's wooing you?"

Teofil sighed, making a note to tease Wystan viciously about his baker later.

"You can ask," Teofil said, shrugging. "I can't tell you, though. I don't really think it counts as wooing if I don't know who's behind it."

"A secret admirer?" Cafon asked, lighting up, and Teofil groaned, wishing he hadn't said anything. "That's romantic."

"It's annoying," Teofil refuted, flushing a little at how vehement that came out. He shouldn't be saying this to a customer either, not when he didn't know who was behind it. It wasn't Cafon, obviously, but he could easily know who it was or let something slip around the right person.

Cafon looked incredulous and Teofil's cheeks got warmer.

"I'd rather they'd be direct about it, is all," Teofil said lamely. "I hate not knowing."

"Perhaps they can't?" Cafon suggested, looking pleased for whatever unfathomable reason the idea of a jewelry maker's assistant's secret admirer appealed to him. "They could be shy."

Teofil shrugged, wondering if that was really the case. "Or they have some other reason they can't be open about it," he countered, a little surprised at how dejected he sounded about it. "I don't want to be someone's secret mistress."

"But maybe—" Cafon began, but cut himself off with an elegant shrug. "My apologies. I admit, I hold a certain fondness for the idea of a secret admirer. It's how Rath and I began seeing each other."

"Oh," Teofil said faintly, feeling stupider. "That's … Which one of you was the secret admirer?"

"He was," Cafon said, grinning. "He was too shy to approach me directly."

"How did you find out?" Teofil asked, interested despite himself.

"One of his notes gave it away. He'd been in a hurry and written it himself. I recognized his handwriting and confronted him about it." Cafon raised his eyebrows. "No hints?"

"No," Teofil admitted, sighing. "No notes, either."

"Well, I'm sure it will sort itself out," Cafon assured him. Teofil shrugged, giving it another half-second's thought before focusing on his job again.

"When would you like the designs, my lord?" Teofil asked.

"Would tomorrow be too soon?" Cafon asked, smiling apologetically. "I have been remiss; our anniversary is in a week's time."

"Tomorrow is fine," Teofil agreed, fighting a smile. It wouldn't be too much work to draw up the designs today.

"Thank you," Cafon said, sounding a bit relieved. He stood nodding to Wystan. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow," Teofil agreed, drawing out fresh paper on which to sketch the designs in his head.

"Good luck with your romance," Cafon said cheerfully, giving him a last smile before departing. Teofil sighed, trying not to think on it too much. Someone too shy … Well, that certainly was better than someone seeking a quick, easy means for an affair.

*~*~*

"That one," Cafon said, immediately dismissing the other four designs Teofil had drawn out. He'd stayed at the shop far longer than he usually did to get them done, but Wystan had worked even longer so he didn't feel too bad.

Teofil smothered a laugh, smiling as he indicated a second drawing. "Are you sure, my lord? This one doesn't incorporate the emeralds."

"No," Cafon dismissed, still studying his chosen design. "This is perfect."

Teofil smiled, taking back the sheet of paper with the chosen design on it. "I can start work on that right away, if you like."

"By all means," Cafon accepted. "When do you anticipate you can complete it?"

"A few days at the most," Teofil replied easily. Even if he did all his other work before he created the earrings, it wouldn't take him more than that to get to and finish the earrings. The design Cafon had picked was simple and elegant, but simple nonetheless.

"I don't suppose you could do me the favor of delivering them when they're complete?" Cafon asked, looking briefly annoyed about something. "Unfortunately, I have to go out of town for a few days."

"Wouldn't it be easier for us to hold them for your return?" Teofil suggested.

"I don't think I'll have time between finishing this business and our anniversary to make it back here," Cafon said, his handsome face shaping into a frown. "I will leave instructions for my head servant to expect you?"

"All right," Teofil accepted, ignoring his misgivings. Something about this didn't seem right, but Cafon was one of the nicer customers he'd dealt with, so he'd make an exception.

"Thank you," Cafon said, tension leaking from his shoulders. "I knew leaving it until the last moment was going to cause extra trouble."

Teofil laughed, willing to bet that Cafon waited until the last moment every year. He wondered briefly if Lord Rathiel did the same and if the man was buying Cafon something equally expensive.

But that was none of his business. Jewelry making was; that was what he should be doing now.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?" Teofil asked, clearing up the rejected designs and tucking them away. They might appeal to another customer later.

"No, I believe that's all," Cafon answered, smiling happily. "I shall return though. Rath's birthday is in a few months."

"I shall prepare designs for matching cufflinks," Teofil promised, only half joking.

Cafon laughed delightedly, standing up. "Excellent. I will cover him in expensive jewelry in spite of his protests. Thank you again, Master Teofil. I will be sure to commend your work to all who care to listen to me for more than a moment."

Teofil flushed a little—he was still an assistant, but it didn't hurt to have his name out there. Shaking Cafon's hand, he bid the pleasant noble goodbye before turning back to his worktable to finish up his current order.

*~*~*

There were yellow roses mixed through the clusters of red roses he'd placed around his kitchen. Sighing in resignation, Teofil set down his bag and locked the door behind him.

Turning back to the kitchen, Teofil allowed himself a moment to admire the new roses before a small, blank envelope caught his eye, propped against the giant vase in the center of his table.

Teofil crossed the kitchen slowly, as though the envelope would disappear if he stared at it for too long. He picked up the envelope with trembling fingers, not sure he really wanted to know what the note said.

The gifts were anonymous, almost impersonal. A note … He couldn't dismiss a note quite as easily. Teofil wondered briefly, crazily, if the gifts had perhaps been meant for someone else, and he'd find the note addressed to someone else as well.

Carefully breaking the seal of the envelope, Teofil removed the pages inside. There were a good many pages, and at the top of the first his name was written in an unfamiliar, elegant script.

Teofil stared at his name for a long moment before reading the rest of the words on the page. It was a poem, he realized after a few lines. An old-fashioned, romantic epic; one of the poems his mother had often read to him when he was a child. It was one of her favorites, despite it being unfashionable for featuring a three-way relationship rather than a conventional couple.

Teofil sat down, even more unsettled than he had been before opening the envelope. Why
that
poem? Was it chosen for its content? Or for his familiarity with it? But that wasn't something that just anyone would know. Not even Wystan would know he knew this poem.

And no one who knew would have the ability to buy him such lavish gifts, nor would they tell such a thing to a rich stranger.

That left content. He didn't have a secret admirer. He had two. But that made even less sense than having a single admirer, unless it was a rich couple seeking thrills.

Why they didn't just visit a brothel, Teofil couldn't fathom. Surely that was cheaper than trying to woo him into playing their games. Teofil eyed the poem unhappily. This was driving him crazy.

Folding the letter closed, he slid it into its envelope and put it back where he'd found it. He didn't give it another look as he went about making his dinner. If his thoughts strayed once or twice … Well, he was allowed to daydream as long as he kept himself firmly grounded with the knowledge that his admirers were just looking for a thrill.

*~*~*

Cafon's house was beautiful. Teofil was waiting in a sitting room off the impressive front hallway. The small, silk-lined case that held the earrings was tucked safely into his coat, and he hoped the servant he was passing them off to appeared soon.

The sitting room was a pleasant enough place to wait, with plenty of natural light spilling through the windows to show off the lightly colored furniture and tapestries. It was pleasant, but the basket of roses in the center of the mantle reminded him of the flowers still decorating his kitchen.

They weren't quite the same colors—red and white roses, rather than red and yellow—but they were similar enough that he was having problems ignoring the thoughts he'd been ignoring since he'd received the poem three nights ago.

He'd received nothing else yet, but Teofil was sure it was only a matter of time before whoever it was sent him something even more unsettling.

The door finally opened and Teofil stood up, turning towards the door as the servant announced, "His Lordship, the Marquis of Westwood—"

"Oh, do stop that," a familiar voice said, and Teofil froze as Rathiel entered the room.
His
Rathiel, dressed up in a lord's clothing, with jewels in his ears and the ring Teofil had designed on his finger.

He looked much the same as he had when they were younger. He was taller, but he still had the same slender build, the same slightly lopsided smile, and the same piercing grey eyes.

"Hello, Teo," Rathiel greeted as the servant slipped out of the room. "How have you been?"

Teofil just gaped at him for a moment, long enough for Rath's smile to begin to falter.

"I don't understand," Teofil said finally, shaking his head. "Rath, how—"

"My mother accidentally fell in love with the former Marquis," Rathiel said, ducking his head in a gesture that Teofil vividly remembered. "He accidentally fell in love back, and married her."

"You disappeared," Teofil accused, and then winced. He shouldn't speak to a marquis like that, even if he'd known the man for years. "We thought you moved west with the rest of your family."

"We went east," Rathiel said weakly. "Westwood is half a day's travel east, ironically enough."

"Why didn't you say goodbye?" Teofil asked quietly, trying not to sound pathetic. Rathiel had been his closest friend for nearly thirteen years; Teofil had been furious when he'd left without even saying goodbye.