KENDRA STOOD back, casting a discerning eye as Amy twirled around in the sapphire and cream gown. “It’s gorgeous!”
Nothing like the day dresses Amy had planned to order, the shimmering satin gown’s scooped neckline was set off with a wide vanilla lace collar, enriched with lustrous pearls. Matching lace spilled to her wrists from beneath tight three-quarter length sleeves. The full cream overskirt was split and gathered to the back to show off a pearl-embroidered sapphire petticoat.
“It makes me feel pretty,” Amy admitted, “though I still cannot believe I let you talk me into it. I haven’t a clue where I’ll wear it.”
“Colin will take you to a ball—”
“No, he won’t.” Though her initial reaction to Colin’s disappearance had been hurt, in the past two weeks Amy had resigned herself to the facts. “Colin wants nothing to do with me; he’s made that perfectly clear. And most certainly not in public.”
“He’ll come around. Trust me. I know my brother. He’s stubborn, but he’s not addlepated.”
Amy’s finger traced a row of embroidered pearls on her skirt. “Colin and I don’t belong together, and we both know it, Kendra. I’m meant to be a jeweler in France. It’s not only what I want, it’s what I have to do.” She smoothed the slick satin, then turned to the seamstress with a rustling swish. “Unlace me, please, Madame Beaumont.”
Amy had been distraught to find Mrs. Cholmley’s shop burned to the ground, and the seamstress herself nowhere to be found. Owing to the king’s passion for everything French, French dressmakers were all the rage. Kendra had insisted Amy order her wardrobe from Madame Beaumont, London’s most sought-after modiste.
The seamstress’s deft fingers loosened the gown, and Amy wiggled out of it. “The hem is fine.” She stepped into the butter-yellow gown she’d borrowed from Kendra and pulled it up. “Will it be ready Monday?
“Certainement. Along with everything else.” Madame Beaumont turned her around to lace her up in back.
“Thank you.” Amy looked pointedly at Kendra. “Do you know if Jason is free Tuesday to take me to Dover?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea, but it doesn’t matter anyway.”
Amy peered into the looking glass, rearranging her long, untamed curls. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You still have to buy stockings, gloves, and ribbons, not to mention shoes for all of these gowns,” Kendra declared gaily. “Then I want help with my Christmas shopping. You won’t be ready to leave for weeks yet—perhaps not until after Christmas.”
“Oh, no.” Amy shook her head, remembering Colin’s original plan to secure her wardrobe within a day or two. Madame Beaumont had taken a full twelve days to create her gowns, and that was after considerable begging and extra payments.
“Oh, yes. You had nothing whatsoever to wear; it takes time to outfit yourself properly. Besides, I’m having too much fun to send you on your way. Why, it’s almost like having a sister.”
“Colin would be furious.”
“A pox on Colin! If he weren’t so obstinate—”
“Marry come up, Kendra! Let’s not start that again.”
“Only if you agree to stop talking about leaving so soon.”
“Well…I did forget about stockings and shoes…maybe I’ll stay an extra week.” Amy stopped fussing with her hair and turned from the mirror to look Kendra in the eye. “But that’s all. Colin and I will never happen. I mean it.”
“Of course you do,” Kendra agreed a little too pleasantly.
A tinkling bell on the door announced another customer. Amy and Kendra prepared to leave as Madame Beaumont rushed out to greet the newcomer. Her melodious voice drifted back to the fitting salon. “Bonjour, Lady Priscilla.”
“No, it cannot be…” Kendra muttered under her breath.
“Your gown is ready for your final fitting.” Madame’s accented words grew louder as she made her way to the curtained salon. “I’ll fetch it from the back room. The salon will be vacant in a moment.” The curtain parted, and Madame slipped inside. “Mesdemoiselles? Is there aught else I can do for you?”
“We were just leaving,” Amy assured her.
The dressmaker stuck her head back into the shop. “Une minute, Lady Priscilla, s’il vous plaît.” She hurried through the salon and into the back, murmuring “Merci, mesdemoiselles” as she went.
“Please let it be another Priscilla,” Kendra whispered, her hand on the curtain’s opening.
“What are you talking about?” Amy whispered back.
Kendra froze and stared at her. “Lady Priscilla.”
“Lady Priscilla?”
“Colin’s Lady Priscilla.”
“Oh…”
Amy wasn’t at all sure she wanted to meet the illustrious Priscilla, but she hadn’t much of a choice, as Kendra grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the shop.
“Lady Priscilla.” Amy had never heard Kendra sound so sickly sweet, nor seen such a false smile plastered on her face. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”
“Lady Kendra.” Priscilla’s voice was cultured and emotionless, as though she ran into acquaintances everywhere and nothing ever surprised her. She leaned over and pecked Kendra on the cheek; a casual kiss between ladies was de rigueur upon meeting. “I didn’t know you were in town. Is Colin back as well?”
“Oh, no. You know how he feels about the City,” Kendra said slyly.
“Yes, but he was here barely a day last month.”
“He’s very busy at Greystone. Perhaps you should visit him there.” Kendra’s suggestion sounded sincere, although she’d told Amy that Priscilla loathed Colin’s rustic home. “I’m sure he’d be glad to see you.”
“Goodness, not in the state that place is in. Although I’d consider an invitation to Cainewood.” Priscilla’s cool gray gaze moved to Amy. “Who do we have here?”
“Forgive me for failing to introduce you,” Kendra said smoothly. “This is Mrs. Amethyst Goldsmith. Amy, meet Lady Priscilla Hobbs.”
Amy watched Priscilla look her over and instantly dismiss her as untitled and insignificant. “I’m glad of your acquaintance,” Priscilla said with a small bored bow.
Amy opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. The very sight of Priscilla had rendered her speechless. Dear heavens, if Priscilla were Colin’s idea of the perfect girl…
Titles aside, she was Amy’s complete antithesis. Priscilla was tall where Amy was diminutive, fair where she was rosy, straight where she was curvy, and cool where she was emotional. Priscilla’s hair was blond, short, and styled, while Amy’s was dark, long, and unruly.
And those were just the obvious differences.
Amy hadn’t known it was possible to hate a virtual stranger. She felt like a sorry example of a human being, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. If witchcraft weren’t a sin, she’d surely be casting a spell forthwith.
Kendra nudged her with a discreet elbow. “I-I’m glad of your acquaintance,” Amy managed to return.
Priscilla’s pretty arched brows drew together. “Mrs. Goldsmith is a friend of yours?” She looked directly at Kendra, as though Amy weren’t there, which Amy wished were the case.
“She’s been staying with us since the fire. She lost her family and their jewelry shop.”
“Their shop?” Priscilla’s expression showed just what she thought of the Chases befriending a merchant, but the look also radiated resigned indulgence—as though the Chases were known to be rather eccentric.
“We’ve known Amy for some time,” Kendra stated defensively. As her fingers moved to the center of her neckline, where she’d pinned the bow-shaped jeweled galant that was her gift from Amy, a glint came into her eyes. “Our family has acquired much jewelry from hers. Colin especially.”
“Colin?” Priscilla frowned. “Colin has never given me any jewelry.”
Though Amy knew her friend was deliberately misleading Priscilla—Kendra must know Colin had bought only her locket and the ring for himself—she decided to play along. “I can assure you that Colin often purchased jewelry, since he always asked for my assistance.”
“Well then, perhaps Lord Greystone is waiting until after we are wed to gift me with it,” Priscilla said.
“Perhaps.”
The single word was a challenge, but apparently Priscilla chose not to see it that way, since she looked straight past Amy to where the seamstress waited between the parted curtains. “Madame Beaumont, you are ready?”
“Certainement, my lady.”
“It was a pleasure seeing you, Kendra,” Priscilla said on her way into the fitting salon.
No such pleasantries were directed at Amy, who evidently was beneath common courtesy.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Priscilla,” she called out pointedly, if insincerely. But the curtain closed before Priscilla could reply, assuming such was her intention.
Somehow, Amy thought not.
“What a rude girl,” she whispered to Kendra. “That is your brother’s intended?”
“In all her glory.” Kendra took Amy’s arm as they headed into the street.
“I suppose this has been a bad day for her,” Amy suggested, searching for a possible excuse for Priscilla’s behavior.
“I doubt it. I call her Priscilla Snobs, you know.” They shared a companionable smile before Kendra continued, “It makes Colin furious.”
“Whatever does he see in her, I wonder?”
“You’re not the only one.”
Seeing their approach, Jason’s coachman rushed to open the door. “We’d like to visit the New Exchange now,” Kendra informed him before climbing into her brother’s wood and leather carriage.
The coachman took her by the elbow to help her in. “As you wish, my lady.”
Amy followed slowly, still thinking about Priscilla. She hadn’t known what to expect, but Priscilla had turned out to be so perfectly upper class that any lingering unrealistic dreams Amy had harbored were swept away. No mere attraction could entice Colin Chase to trade such an aristocratic paragon for plain Amy Goldsmith.
Even though she couldn’t wed Colin whether he wanted her or not, it was a depressing thought. As she dwelt on it, she nearly missed the voice that called from down the street. The shocked, all-too-familiar voice.
“Amy? Amy! Can that be you?”
“I wish they’d hurry and rebuild the Royal Exchange,” Kendra lamented from inside the carriage. “It was so much better than the New Exchange.”
Amy hesitated but a moment before rushing inside to join her. She pulled the door shut before the startled coachman had a chance to close it.
“What’s happening, Amy?”
“Shh! Don’t say my name out loud.” She tugged the curtains over the windows, cursing the heavy traffic that perpetually clogged London’s streets. “Oh, why can’t we get going?”
The carriage gave a small lurch as it started into the center of the busy street, but it was too late. Bang! Bang! A fist hit the door, and the driver reined in the horses.
“Amy! I know you’re in there!”
“Hey!” The driver jumped to the street with an audible thump. “Keep your hands off Lord Cainewood’s carriage!”
Through a slit in the curtains, Amy glimpsed carrot-colored hair, but she needed no confirmation. Having worked with him for five years, she would have recognized Robert Stanley’s voice anywhere.
“I don’t give a care whose carriage this is!” she heard him yell. “Amethyst Goldsmith is inside, and I must speak with her.”
Amy bit her lip. The door opened and the driver asked, “Mrs. Goldsmith, do you know this gentleman?”
She decided to pretend she was surprised. “Robert!” She jumped out and wrapped her arms around the freckled man in a hug that was halfhearted at best, but she hoped would be convincing since she’d never been overly affectionate with him. “’I’m so glad to see you’re well—I’ve been wondering about you,” she gushed.
And it was true, in a way. Robert had been in her life a long time; she was relieved to see him whole and healthy.
“Your letter didn’t say where you were,” Robert said doubtfully, setting her away from himself. “Did you at least tell your Aunt Elizabeth? I wrote to her to find out, but I haven’t heard back yet.”
“Yes, I wrote to her,” Amy said slowly. Dear heavens…it hadn’t occurred to her that Robert would contact her aunt. He would have found her even in Paris. She hadn’t credited him with such resourcefulness.
No, she corrected herself, she’d known all along that Robert was intelligent, though a bit unimaginative. The truth was, she’d done her best not to think of him and what he would do at all.
“I’m sorry,” she said now, meaning it. “I should have found you to discuss matters. I wasn’t thinking straight. I was…mourning. Devastated.” She took a deep breath. “What have you been doing?”
Robert shuffled his feet on the slushy ground. “Looking for you. Helping my father a little. Drinking with my old chums at the King’s Arms, mostly.” Shaking his head, he grabbed her by the shoulders. “I vow and swear, I cannot believe I’ve found you. I thought I’d never see you again.”
When Amy didn’t respond, he paused, apparently considering.
“Were you ever going to try to find me?” he finally asked in a slow, suspicious tone.
Amy looked down at the street. She wished he’d let go of her, but he had her shoulders in an iron grip. A faint, stale smell of ale washed over her; she could taste it in her mouth. “Of course. I—I just got to the City,” she hedged. “I’ve been staying with friends. Out in the countryside.”
“Friends? Friends I don’t know about?”
She lifted her head and shot him a bold look. “There’s much you don’t know of me, Robert.”
“I’m coming to see that,” he returned, dropping his arms to fold them across his chest. “Our wedding date passed, as you know. We shall have to reschedule.”
Amy stared at him. “Did you not read my letter?”
“Wedding date?” Emerging from the shadowed corner of the carriage, Kendra stuck her head out. “Amy?”
Amy turned to her gratefully; this talk of weddings was making her ill. “Kendra, this is Robert Stanley. Robert, my friend Lady Kendra.”
He aimed a curt nod at Kendra. “This is your friend?” he asked Amy bluntly. “The one you’ve been staying with?”
“Yes.”
“Fancy carriage.” He said it as though it were a crime to own one.
“It belongs to my brother,” Kendra explained.
“Lord Something-or-other?”
“The Marquess of Cainewood.”
Robert blinked and frowned, as though he were trying to remember something, then gave a quick shake of his head. He turned back to Amy. “So…when do you want to get married?”
“Never,” she said quietly.
“You were promised to me.” Robert’s voice was low and deep and even more quiet than hers.
Too quiet.
Though Amy looked at him defiantly, she was shaking inside. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she had to make him understand she had no intention of becoming his wife. “My father is dead. Everything has changed for me. And”—she lifted her chin—“and I don’t have to marry you.”
“Blast it, Amy, you’re supposed to be mine. I waited and waited. The shop was supposed to be mine, too, but now it’s gone. The inventory…” His eyes lit up. “Where is the inventory?”
Amy swallowed hard. “I don’t want to marry you, Robert.”
Robert’s jaw was set. His pale blue eyes flashed with menace. “Where is the inventory?”
“I don’t have it.” Her voice wavered, but it wasn’t quite a lie. She didn’t have it here.
“I don’t believe you. I went back to look, but found not a trace. No molten metal, no diamonds in the ashes. And diamonds don’t turn to ash.” He took a step closer. “Where is it, Amy?”
“I don’t have it,” she repeated shakily. “I—I have to go now.” She turned to enter the carriage.
He grabbed her by the upper arm, swung her around, and dug his fingers in painfully. “The inventory is mine. I worked five years for it. Where is it?”
Amy winced and threw a worried glance at Kendra, spurring her friend into action. Kendra planted herself firmly in the doorway of the carriage. “Leave her alone!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “She doesn’t have it!”
Visibly shocked at this outburst, Robert turned on Kendra. “You stay out of this! It’s not your concern!”
Kendra’s eyes narrowed recklessly. She came down from the carriage in a flash, curling one hand into a fist, which she propelled expertly into Robert’s face. “Leave her alone, I tell you!”
Robert’s pale eyes bugged out, and he dropped Amy’s arm to grasp his rapidly reddening jaw.
With a triumphant grin, Kendra grabbed Amy’s freed hand. “I haven’t three brothers for nothing!” she informed nobody in particular, then jumped into the carriage, pulling Amy after her.
Amy stuck her head out and pinned Robert with a disdainful look. “Five years? My family worked five centuries for that jewelry. You learned your craft and were paid a fair wage, as well as bed and board. I owe you no more, and you’ll never have more, Robert Stanley!”
She slammed and latched the carriage door.
Robert beat on it with both fists. “You’re mistaken, Amethyst Goldsmith! I’ll have the inventory yet, and you as well. You just wait!”
Inside the darkened carriage, Amy hunched over on the bench seat, covering her head with her hands so she wouldn’t hear him. After what seemed an interminable wait, the vehicle jerked and began moving.
Amy straightened. “I’m sorry about that,” she apologized, massaging her upper arm. She was certain to have marks from Robert’s fingers.
“It’s not every day I get to practice my boxing.” Kendra’s laugh was shaky. She rubbed her bruised fist ruefully. “Gad, was he ever surprised!” She pushed open the curtains, and sunlight flooded the cabin. “Are you all right?”
Amy nodded mournfully. “I cannot believe what a perfect beast he was! And to think I almost married him.” She shuddered.
“You never told me you were betrothed.”
“I wanted to forget it. I never wanted to wed him in the first place—it was all my father’s doing.”
“He’s so…he doesn’t fit with you.” Kendra’s face turned contemplative. “He looked as though he might have an engaging smile when he’s not angry, but he’s quite…short. Of character and of stature. I cannot imagine you with him. Now, you and—”
“He always scared me a little,” Amy interrupted Kendra’s musings. “He lived with us as our apprentice the past five years, but we’d been promised since we were children.”
“Did you like him at all?”
“At first, until I got to know him. He had strong ideas of what he wanted in a wife, and they didn’t mesh with mine. Still, I could have done worse, and my father was insistent.” She shuddered again. “I’ll never marry him, especially not after this,” she declared vehemently. “Never, never, never.”
Kendra frowned. “Your aunt won’t expect you to wed him, will she?”
Amy thought a moment. Aunt Elizabeth was a warm, motherly type who wanted to see everyone around her happy. And she’d never been particularly fond of Robert. “No,” she said at last. “No, I don’t believe she will. Or my uncle, either.”
“Then you’ve nothing to worry about. Robert doesn’t know where to find you while you’re staying with us—”
“And I’ll be gone soon. Very soon.” The sooner the better, she thought morosely.
Her time in England was really at an end.
Kendra leaned over to touch her hand, then suddenly grinned. “Five centuries?”
Amusement lightened Amy’s mood. “Well…perhaps I exaggerated, just a little.” When her eyes met Kendra’s, they both burst out laughing.