It had all been for naught—he was as spellbound as ever, and now she might be hurt. He cursed at himself. She was his responsibility, and at the very least he should have asked her to stay in the bedchamber with a book while he worked.
The bedchamber. He hadn’t even looked there. Maybe she was in the bedchamber with a book. As he hurried down the stairs, he pictured her curled on the bed, lost in the world of literature or perhaps even napping—she’d been awake in the night, after all. He could hardly blame her for losing track of time.
He knocked softly on the door, half afraid he’d wake her up, half afraid she wouldn’t be there at all.
No answer.
“Amy?” he called, his voice muffled by the thick oak. “Amy? Are you in there?”
He knocked louder. “Amy?”
On the faint hope she was inside, sound asleep, he eased open the door.
His jaw went slack at the sight that greeted him.
The room was strewn with glittering jewels. She knelt on the floor beside her trunk—that deuced heavy trunk that she’d insisted go with her everywhere. And no wonder. The thing was heaped with gold and gems and heaven knew what else.
“Why didn’t you answer me?” he asked.
“I—I don’t know. You surprised me.”
“You were supposed to be preparing dinner, and I couldn’t find you.” He tore his gaze away from the treasure to look at her. Her face was inscrutable. “I was…worried,” he finished lamely.
“I’m sorry. I forgot.” She glanced out the window, but the sun was hidden behind snow clouds and gave no indication of the time. “Is it very late?”
“It doesn’t signify,” he murmured, frowning as his brain began catching up with his eyes. “Good heavens, I suggested you leave that trunk on carriages overnight! Why didn’t you tell me what was in there?”
“I…was taught never to trust anyone.” The guarded expression fell away, and now she looked troubled. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. You’ve given me no reason not to trust you.”
Colin knelt beside her, instinctively wanting to soothe her distress. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “I understand.”
When she smiled at him, he was surprised to see her eyes bright with unshed tears. She was still fragile emotionally, in a way that made him want to gather her into his arms and protect her from the world. He touched her instead, just lightly on the arm, and smiled back, a smile that widened as they seemed to reach a silent understanding and he saw her eyes clear.
He skimmed his fingers down her arm, and her cheeks flushed pink. She looked away quickly and began gathering the jewelry.
He grasped her hand, halting her efforts. “May I see some of your things?”
She glanced at him in surprise. “Of course.” Her face lit with pleasure as she gave him the piece she was holding, a large diamond stomacher brooch.
“This is amazing.” An enormous, rectangular step-cut diamond rested in the center, surrounded by round diamonds set into a spray of gold leaves. He turned his hand to admire how the gems caught the light.
“Papa bought the center stone from a dealer in Antwerp, then saved it for almost a decade before mounting it.” She wasn’t blushing now; she spoke with enthusiasm and confidence. She missed her craft, Colin realized. “He rarely showed this to anyone. I don’t think he really wanted to part with it.”
“It’s a shame it’s never been worn and enjoyed.”
“I made some bodkins to go with it.” She rummaged in the trunk for a few seconds and came out with a half-dozen long gold pins, each topped with a gold leaf set with a rose-cut diamond. She dropped them into his other palm. “They would have been so pretty in a lady’s hair, with the matching brooch. I always thought that someday, someone very important would own them.”
“Someone important owns them now,” Colin said, half-teasing.
But her heart leapt into her eyes. He’d best be more careful.
Mindful not to stick her with the pins, he handed the jewelry back to her and watched her wrap it up in two of the many pieces of flannel that were scattered about.
She’d gone quiet again. He moved to sit on the bed, where a pile of trinkets glittered. “Is there anything here that you made?”
“Oh, many things.” She jumped up to sit beside him, sifting through the jewels until she found an oval, coral-colored cameo and handed it to him shyly.
He smiled down at it. Set into a braided gold bezel, the intricate carving was a profile of a beautiful young woman. She wore a little necklace of twisted gold wire with a tiny diamond pendant attached.
Colin narrowed his eyes and looked more closely. “She looks like you,” he suddenly realized, and she giggled.
“Papa said the same thing. I didn’t hold with that at the time, but then Mama agreed, and others, and I finally decided she must be me after all. Although I swear I hadn’t intended to carve a likeness of myself. See, her hair is loose, and I never used to wear my hair that way.”
“Yet you’ve worn it loose since the fire. Why did you change it?”
“I never learned how to plait it myself.” She thought a minute, frowning. “It seems to fit my life now; I feel like a different person.” She shrugged. “I wore it plaited for practical reasons—I couldn’t work with it billowing about, getting in the way. And I haven’t made much jewelry the last few months, have I?”
“No, you surely haven’t,” he agreed with a wry smile. “I fancy it loose, anyway.”
“Do you really?”
Colin cleared his throat. Now, why had he said that? “She truly looks like you now, at any rate,” he rushed to say, hoping to gloss over the thoughtless remark. He held the cameo between a finger and thumb, glancing back and forth between Amy and her likeness. The resemblance was unmistakable.
