Colin laughed, favoring her with one of his grins. He would swear she was flirting.
“Come into the sitting room, will you?” She handed him the tray, sailing past him with a swish of her skirts. A soft jasmine scent swirled after her. “You’re here on king’s business?”
Trailing behind her, he nearly dropped the tray. “How…”
Her musical laugh filled the air. “You’d be surprised what I know of you, my boy.” Her lips twitched in amusement as she took the tray from him and set it on a table, waving him into a chair. “How did it go?”
“Not well, at first,” he said carefully. How much could she know? “On the ride from Calais, my stagecoach was beset by highwaymen.”
Gracefully seating herself, she raised a brow at him. “Not an auspicious start.”
“To say the least.” He hitched himself forward. “As I was carrying little cash, the felons took my ring—the ring Amy made for me.” He rubbed the spot where it used to be, more angry every time he thought of it. “I would have run them through with my sword, but there were three of them, bearing pistols, and just one of me—”
“Amy would think you could handle them.”
“She might at that.” Her teasing expression coaxed a smile. “In any case, I know better, and none of the other victims seemed inclined to help.”
An expectant silence filled the room. Elizabeth smoothed her skirts. “And Henrietta Maria? How did it go with her?”
Colin’s jaw dropped open. “What has Amy written to you?”
“Not to worry.” She waved a hand. “Only that you were visiting the king’s mother on king’s business. No details.” Elizabeth cocked her head. “Does she know any?”
Colin nodded.
“Then she knows how to keep her mouth shut. As for writing of you…you know how it is when you’re young and in love, and you look for excuses to say—or write—your loved one’s name.”
“I cannot say that I do,” he said wryly. “I surmise circumstances forced me to grow up too quickly to be young and in love at the same time.”
Elizabeth just kept on smiling.
Colin rose, pacing to the fireplace. “In any case, the Dowager Queen didn’t see fit to be in residence. I cooled my heels for ten days, waiting for her return. After all that, I wouldn’t have been surprised had she refused to act on her son’s letter, but fortunately, that was the one thing that went right.”
He toyed with a shepherdess figurine on the mantel, its frilly pink skirts reminding him of Henrietta Maria, who he trusted was on her way to Versailles to visit her nephew.
“And then?” Amy’s aunt fixed him with a penetrating look. “Come on, boy, spit it out. I’m sure you wouldn’t go out of your way to visit an old woman for the joy of it.”
“Old woman, eh? Now you’re fishing for return compliments.” He laughed. “I can see right through you, Aunt Elizabeth.”
“And I can see right through you. You’re concerned about something, and don’t try to tell me otherwise.”
Uncomfortable under her knowing gaze, he walked to a window and swept aside the lace curtain. He gazed down at the bustling Parisian street. “Madame—Aunt Elizabeth—I came to ask a favor.”
“Anything, my boy.”
“If you could see your way clear to accompany me to Greystone for a visit, I’d be more than grateful.” His hand dropped, and the lace fell back to shroud the window. “As I’m sure you know, Amy is due to bear our first child soon, and your presence would make it much easier.”
He turned toward her slowly, surprising himself with a sudden wish to confide in someone for the first time in his memory. But he couldn’t find the words to begin.
Elizabeth rose and came near. Her jasmine scent reminded him of someone…
His mother?
She smiled. “I suspect you may need something stronger than tea for this discussion. May I prevail on you to squire me out for supper? With William away in Antwerp, I find myself weary of dining alone.” Her hand brushed his arm, and she raised a brow. “What say you to La Tour d’Argent?”
“Restaurant La Tour d’Argent? With no notice? I hear tell duels are fought to obtain a table there.”
“Not to worry, my boy, you won’t have to fence for your supper.” Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. “The owner’s wife has been coveting a bracelet in my window…I’m certain we can strike a bargain.”
SEVENTY-SIX
“ANGUILLE DES bois, madame.” With a flourish, the server set a pewter plate before Elizabeth. “Et pour vous, Lord Greystone”—Colin smiled at the hacked pronunciation of his name, but gave the man points for trying—“Poule d’Afrique.”
The savory scent of the delicacy wafted to Colin’s nose, but it failed to entice him. He sighed as the server walked away. “As I was saying, Amy is unhappy. I’m sure of it, though she says otherwise. I fear it’s because she broke her vow to wed me, and—”
“Her vow?” A frown appeared between Elizabeth’s blue eyes.
“She promised her father—your late brother…”
She nodded, indicating she wasn’t too fragile to discuss him.
“She made him promises,” Colin explained. “To continue the traditions of Goldsmith and Sons. To save her inheritance for future generations. There’s more, and to hear her tell of it, these vows might as well have been signed in blood. She’s miserable, and there’s not a deuced thing I can do about it.”
“Nothing?” Her bejeweled fingers toyed with her pewter goblet. “Nothing at all?”
“Not without giving her up.” His voice caught, and he looked down to his plate, slowly cutting a bite of his hen. “She cannot run a shop and live with me at Greystone. And I cannot seem to make her
