Shades of Earl Grey (2 page)

Theodosia hurried over to Drayton and grabbed his arm. “So good of you to come,” she told him.

He smiled down at her. “You're looking lovely,” he told her.

“To be perfectly honest,” she said, turning her blue eyes upon him and patting her auburn hair self-consciously, “I feel rather tossed together. Delaine called at the last minute to ask if she could borrow my baroque silver card receiver to use as a stand so she could display Camille's wedding ring. So, of course, I had to scoot over here, where I immediately got roped into helping with a few
more
last-minute details. Then I had to make a mad dash home, give Earl Grey a quick run around the block, and get myself all fixed up. And then it started to pour buckets,” Theodosia added breathlessly.

The Delaine that Theodosia was referring to was Delaine Dish, a friend of Theodosia's and Drayton's who owned the clothing boutique, Cotton Duck, just a few doors down from the Indigo Tea Shop. Earl Grey was Theodosia's dog, a mixed breed she'd found cowering in the alley behind the tea shop one rainy night. Theodosia had promptly adopted the bedraggled pup and dubbed him a purebred dalbrador. The very grateful and loving Earl Grey had been Theodosia's constant companion ever since. He had taken to obedience and agility training like a duck to water and had also earned his Therapy Dog International certificate, which gave both of them the privilege of making regular visits to nursing homes and children's hospital wards.

Tonight's
soiree
was an engagement party for Delaine's niece, Camille Cantroux. Camille was engaged to marry a young Marine captain, Corey Buchanan from Savannah, Georgia. In fact, the wedding was just a few weeks away, set to take place the Saturday after Thanksgiving.

“Here's Haley,” said Drayton as a young woman in a swirl of black crepe hurried to join them.

“Hey, you guys,” said Haley in a breathless rush, “tell me if this dress looks okay.” As she executed a self-conscious little twirl, her long straight hair swirled out in a wedge around her. “I borrowed it from my cousin, Rowena.”

“Terrific,” piped up Drayton immediately, without so much as a look in her direction.

Haley rolled her eyes.

Theodosia, however, took Haley very seriously and studied her little black cocktail dress with an appraising eye. In her short, fun dress she looked like an updated Audrey Hepburn. Coltish, very much the gamin. Except, of course, for her long, straight hair and slightly impudent nature. That was pure Haley.

“You look adorable,” Theodosia reassured her. “Youthful, very fresh. I'm confident every young man here tonight will have his eye on you.”

“Do you really think so?” asked Haley. She glanced around quickly at the crowd of young people. “There
are
lots of good-looking guys here, aren't there? Do you think they're all Marines?”

“I'd say there are more than a few good men,” said Drayton, who never failed to delight in teasing Haley.

Haley, on the other hand, simply ignored his jibes. “How come Delaine is throwing an engagement party here in Charleston when her niece and her fiancé are getting married in Savannah?” she asked.

“Besides the fact that Delaine lives here, Camille also attended school here at Charleston College,” explained Theodosia. “So Camille has loads of friends in the area. You know, she graduated this past summer with a B.A. in English literature.”

“Cool,” nodded Haley. “I was an English lit major once.”

“Haley,” said Drayton, “you were also a studio arts major, women's studies major, and . . . let's see . . . what was your most recent foray? Business?”

“Hey, smarty,” Haley shot back, “I'm
still
taking classes in business administration. This time I will get my degree.”

“Of course you will,” Theodosia assured her.

“Thanks, Theo,” said Haley. “Hey, your hair looks great tonight,” she exclaimed as an afterthought.

“No, not really,” said Theodosia, nervously patting her hair again.

“Batten down the hatches,” said Drayton under his breath. “Here comes Delaine.”

Delaine Dish, proud aunt and planner extraordinaire of tonight's engagement party, came plowing through the throng of guests like an ocean liner entering New York Harbor. Delaine's long, dark hair was swept into an up-do and she wore a midnight blue chiffon dress with a beaded camisole bodice and frothy skirt. With her slightly upturned eyes, Delaine looked tall, dark, and elegant.

“Delaine, darling,” said Drayton, greeting her. “You're looking lovely.”

Delaine rubbed a bare shoulder against Drayton. “Such a way with women you have, Mr. Conneley.”

Theodosia sighed. Delaine was a sweet soul. No one could touch her fiery zeal when it came to raising money for the Heritage Society, campaigning for the Charleston Humane Society, or selling tickets for the Lamplighter Tour. But Delaine did have a certain fondness for men.

Delaine finally turned her gaze toward Theodosia and Haley. “Having a good time, you two?”

“Everything is lovely,” replied Theodosia. “The Lady Goodwood Inn was a perfect choice.”

“So was the string quartet,” added Drayton, nodding toward the group of musicians tucked off in the corner.

Theodosia let her gaze wander, taking in the small, elegant ballroom with its color palette of cream and pale blue, the multitude of vases overflowing with fresh flowers, the tuxedo-clad waiters who bore silver trays with crystal flutes of champagne. “It's nice to be a guest for once and not the caterer,” she told Delaine.

In the past year, the Indigo Tea Shop had catered a multitude of engagement teas, garden teas, and wedding receptions. So being a guest here tonight really
was
a luxury for Theodosia.

“Tell us about Captain Corey Buchanan,” Haley urged Delaine. “I love the idea that he's a captain in the Marines. Just the thought of it is so dashing and romantic.”

“Well, I don't know him all
that
well,” replied Delaine. “In fact I've really only met the dear fellow twice. But I
can
tell you he's a graduate of Annapolis and the Basic School in Quantico, and that Captain Corey Buchanan is one of
the
Buchanans from Savannah.” Delaine's eyes sparkled with excitement. “They're a very old family. Terribly well-to-do.”

“I'm sure he's a fine young man,” said Theodosia, choosing to ignore Delaine's somewhat tactless implication of wealth and riches. “And that he and Camille are very much in love.”

Haley nodded in agreement. “In the scheme of things, that's what really counts.”

“Have you seen Camille's ring?” asked Delaine, still in a twitter.

“Gorgeous,” replied Drayton.

“Oh, no,” Delaine was quick to protest. “Not the
engagement
ring. Of course, that's beautiful. Stunning, really. But wait until you-all get a gander at Camille's
wedding
ring. I just put it on display in the Garden Room a few minutes ago. It's what you'd call a
killer
ring. Estate jewelry, don't you know?”

“Estate jewelry,” repeated Haley. “What exactly does that mean?”

Delaine looked pleased at Haley's question. “Honey,” she said in a hushed tone, “it means the ring has been in Captain Buchanan's family for
decades!
” She took a quick sip of champagne to fortify herself, then continued. “The ring is an emerald-cut diamond flanked by six smaller round diamonds. The center stone came from a distant relative, Angelique Delacroix, who was a French noble-woman married to a minor Austrian archduke back in the mid-eighteen-hundreds. The archduke reputedly purchased the diamond when one of Marie Antoinette's crowns was sold off!”

“Wow!” said Haley, impressed now. “Sounds like the kind of ring a girl could lose her head over.”

“Oh yes,” Delaine bubbled on. “Wait until you see it.” She glanced around. “Captain Buchanan and the rest of the boys should be here any moment. A couple of the grooms-men had tuxedo fittings this afternoon.” She rolled her eyes. “You know how young men are. They probably stopped at Slidell's Oyster Bar for a celebratory drink. I certainly hope they won't be indiscreet.”

“Or delayed,” added Theodosia. All the guests had been sipping cocktails for the better part of an hour now and there seemed to be a restless hum in the tightly packed room. Probably, Theodosia decided, most of the guests were as ready as she was for dinner in the more spacious Garden Room, which had once been the inn's greenhouse. Delaine had been huddling with the Lady Goodwood's head chef for weeks and had finally decided upon an appetizer of she-crab soup, a salad of baby field greens, and an entrée of smoked duck breast, cranberry relish, and fried squash blossoms.

“So when do we get a peek at this show-stopper of a ring?” asked Haley, looking around in great anticipation.

Delaine glanced nervously at her watch again, a jewel-encrusted Chopard. “Hopefully we'll be going in for dinner any minute now. We're really just waiting for Captain Buchanan.” Delaine drained the last of her champagne. “Until this afternoon,” she explained, “Brooke had been storing the ring in her vault at Heart's Desire. For safekeeping, of course.”

Located on Water Street in the historic district, Heart's Desire was one of Charleston's premier estate jewelry shops. It was owned and lovingly operated by Brooke Carter Crockett, a woman who could trace her ancestry all the way back to the famous frontiersman, Davy Crockett.

Over the years, Heart's Desire had become the premier jeweler for buying and selling estate jewelry. So much fine jewelry was still available in Charleston, owing to the many French and English families who had settled in and around the area during the seventeen- and eighteen-hundreds. And over the years, their rice, indigo, and cotton plantations had yielded enormous wealth and all the trappings that came with it.

“Camille and Captain Buchanan have even agreed to allow the wedding ring to be displayed in the Heritage Society's Treasures Show,” Delaine prattled on.

“That starts this weekend?” asked Haley.

“The members-only part is this Saturday evening,” explained Drayton, who currently served on the board of directors of the Heritage Society as parliamentarian. “Then the grand opening for the public will be the following weekend.”

“Of course,” said Delaine, “the wedding ring is not quite as showy as some of the pieces in the European Jewel Collection, but it's a quality piece, just the same.” The European Jewel Collection was a special traveling show that was being brought in to augment the Heritage Society's own pieces.

“It was a lovely and generous gesture on the part of Camille and Captain Buchanan to allow their ring to be displayed,” said Drayton.

“Oh, Coop, over here!” chirped Delaine. She waved at a tall, lanky man, beckoning him to come join their foursome. “You-all know Cooper Hobcaw, don't you?” she asked.

“Hello, Mr. Hobcaw,” said Theodosia, shaking hands with the silver-haired, hawk-nosed Hobcaw.

“Coop. Just Coop,” he told her. Glancing at Drayton and Haley, Cooper Hobcaw nodded hello.

Cooper Hobcaw was a senior partner at Hobcaw Mc-Cormick and one of Charleston's premier criminal attorneys. He was smart and tough and wily and had a reputation for playing hardball. Last year he'd defended an accused murderer and had succeeded in getting him acquitted. That had made Cooper Hobcaw slightly unpopular among Charleston's more politically correct set and had greatly rankled Burt Tidwell, the homicide detective who was an on-again off-again friend of Theodosia's.

But a person shouldn't be defined by what they do, decided Theodosia. Cooper Hobcaw had been squiring Delaine around for quite a few months now, and Delaine seemed completely and utterly charmed by him.

“Would you like another drink, honey?” Cooper Hobcaw asked Delaine solicitously.

“Please,” she said, handing over her empty glass. “But this time . . . maybe a cosmopolitan?”

“Ladies?” Hobcaw threw a questioning glance at Theodosia and Haley, who both shook their heads. Their champagne glasses were still half-full.

“I'll come with you,” offered Drayton.

“No, no, please. Allow me,” said Cooper Hobcaw. “You stay with the ladies and keep them amused. I'll bring you a . . . what is it you've got there? Bourbon?”

“Right,” nodded Drayton.

“Good man,” said Hobcaw with a crooked grin. “I can't stand that bubbly stuff either.”

“Okay,” said Haley after Cooper Hobcaw had moved off, “tell me which one is Camille Cantroux. There are so many pretty girls here, I don't know one from the other.”

“Over there,” said Theodosia. “Standing by the baby grand piano. With the short blond hair.” She indicated a young woman in a champagne-colored slip dress whose tones just happened to perfectly match her short-cropped and ever-so-slightly-spiked hair.

“The one who's about a size
two?
” said Haley. “My, she
is
pretty, isn't she.”

“Camille's adorable,” gushed Delaine, who was fairly ga-ga over her young niece.

“Did you help pick out her wedding gown?” asked Drayton, who had finally assumed an
if you can't beat 'em, join 'em
attitude about the wedding discussion.

“Of course,” said Delaine. “But being that Camille is so tiny, I suggested breaking from traditional style. Instead of her being overpowered by a big flouncy dress and flowing veil that would make her look like a human wedding cake, I found the most adorable little French creation. It has a bodice with just the tiniest bit of rouching, and a tulle ballerina skirt.
Très elegant
—but, of course, not in white.”