“I’m afraid not. Mr. and Mrs. Bradford never had children of their own.” Jason’s hand went up to smooth his mustache, then he smiled. “That’s why she wants a little girl so badly.”
“Will she love me?”
“How could she not?” Jason reached to tweaked Mary’s nose. “And you will love her too, Mary, I promise.”
“A Chase promise is not given lightly,” Mary quoted solemnly.
His jaw went slack in surprise. “What did you say?”
“That means you always keep your promises. Amy told me.”
“Oh.” Jason and Amy shared a smile over the girl’s head. “Well, she’s right, you know.”
“Amy is always right.” Mary craned her neck to see out the open carriage window. “Is that the village? Ooh, pretty!”
Amy’s gaze went to follow hers. “Much prettier than London, isn’t it? And cleaner.”
“It smells nice, too. Every house has flowers.”
Mary watched, rapt, as they passed several more houses and rolled to a stop before a small white cottage with a thatched roof. The coachman hadn’t finished opening the door and lowering the steps before Clarice Bradford rushed out to meet them, holding a new rag doll.
Mary bounded down the steps and right into her outstretched arms.
For a long moment they clung together. Then they pulled back to give each other a considered look. Clarice reached trembling fingers to touch Mary’s bright curls.
She looked to Jason, who had followed Amy from the carriage into the cottage’s tidy garden. “Oh, she’s beautiful, my lord.”
Mary’s head tilted up, then slowly went down as she took in the glossy blond plaited bun that sat atop Clarice’s head, her gray eyes set in a delicate-featured face, her simple tan dress, and the plain black shoes that peeked from beneath her skirts. “You’re beautiful too, Mama.”
The gray eyes filled with grateful tears.
“Is this doll for me?” Mary asked.
“Just for you. I sat up all night making it.” Too excited to sleep, Amy guessed. Yesterday, when she and Jason visited to propose the arrangement, Clarice had been overcome with joy.
“Thank you, Mama. She’s beautiful, too. I’ll name her Amy.” Mary clutched the doll close as she watched the coachman and outrider carry Kendra’s trunk into Clarice’s cottage. Her blue eyes widened. “Do I get to keep all those clothes?”
Jason nodded. “With Lady Kendra’s compliments.”
“And…” Moving closer, Amy pulled something from her pocket. “Lord Cainewood gave me permission to leave this with you, as a memento of our time together. I hope it will help you remember me.”
The engraved silver comb sparkled in the sunshine as Mary took it, staring at it as though it were one of King Charles’s crown jewels. “Oh, my lady—I mean, Amy! I will ’member you always.”
Amy lifted her up, blinking back tears as Mary’s little arms wound around her neck. She hugged her back fiercely.
When Amy let go, Jason knelt down in the grass before Mary. “Will you be all right here with Clarice?”
“Yes.” Her hand shot out and tweaked his nose. Jason rubbed his face in surprise as Mary scurried to Clarice’s side and reached up to take her hand. “I’m home now,” she said.
Amy couldn’t help thinking: When will I be home?
TWENTY-TWO
KENDRA DASHED into the library and leaned against the large globe, breathless. “Amy,” she panted. “It’s Colin.” She paused for more air. “He’s here. What are we going to do?”
Amy felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. “Dear heavens,” she whispered. “He’s come to take me away, hasn’t he?”
She looked up to the carved wood ceiling, her eyes tracing the intricate design while her mind wrestled with denial. “There’s nothing we can do,” she said finally, her gaze dropping to Kendra. “I’m lucky he stayed away this long—”
“You fit in here. I don’t want you to leave.”
Kendra’s words warmed Amy’s heart. She rose from the chair and gave Kendra a brief, sisterly hug. “Thank you for saying that; you’ll never know how much it means to me.” She sniffed back tears. “I’ve enjoyed every minute of my month here. But I have another life.”
Kendra’s brow furrowed in concern. “A life in Paris?”
“It’s not so bad as all that,” Amy said, remembering Colin telling her so outside the inn, after the fire. A long time ago, it seemed, but now she believed it. “As much as I love it here, this isn’t my place. I’m a Goldsmith. I need to create, to cast and polish and engrave.”
Indeed, her fingers fairly itched to make jewelry. Her hands clenched as her gaze dropped to the red-carpeted floor and ran along the wide decorative golden stripes, down the length of the long, narrow library to the fireplace. Kendra remained silent while Amy gazed into the distant flames, struggling with her feelings of being uprooted once again.
But she knew it was the only way. Robert must have received her letter and accepted her decision by now…and if not, well, he’d never find her in France. She’d work at Aunt Elizabeth’s shop while she prepared to open her own.
She’d vowed that Goldsmith & Sons wouldn’t die with her, and she meant to honor that vow.
Her trunk was gathering dust in the corner of her borrowed bedchamber, her inheritance locked inside. More than enough jewelry to stock a small shop, plus gold to pay for tools and equipment—gold that would be faithfully replaced as soon as she was able. She’d never deplete the Goldsmith fortune. Like the generations before her, she bore an obligation.
Kendra heaved a mournful sigh. “If you leave, I’ll miss you.”
Amy tried to smile. “Mayhap I’ll hide in here till Colin leaves. Up on the balconies—no one ever looks at the books there except me. You can sneak up food and tell him I’ve gone to Paris.”
Kendra’s laugh echoed through the two-story library. “I vow and swear, for a minute there I thought you were serious.” She relaxed and leaned back against the brass mesh set into the bookshelf doors, then looked at Amy sharply. “You are fooling, aren’t you?”
“Marry come up, Kendra! Have you
