Lord Greystone ushered his sister outside, then lingered in the doorway, looking strangely reluctant to leave.
“Can…” The long fingers of one hand drummed against his thigh, then stopped. “Can you make a signet ring?”
His question came low across the small shop, to Amy, not her father.
“A signet ring?” she said with a small smile. “Of course, it’s a simple matter.”
Beside her, Robert stopped polishing.
“Excellent.” Lord Greystone paused, frowning a bit. “I’ll send a messenger with a drawing of the crest,” he said at last. “And my direction to deliver it when you’re finished.”
Amy nodded, feeling a quick stab of disappointment that she wouldn’t be seeing him again. Robert’s hand resumed its deliberate circular motion on top of the counter.
“I thank you,” Lord Greystone said. Then he melted out the doorway and into the teeming streets of Cheapside.
The bell rang again when the door shut. Amy stared at the solid wood until her father cleared his throat.
“I cannot believe you sold your locket,” he remarked. “I thought it was your favorite piece.”
“It was,” she answered dreamily. “But I can make another one.”
Her stomach fluttered with happiness, just knowing Lord Greystone admired her craftsmanship and his sister would be wearing her locket. And soon, he would be wearing her ring.
“If you ask me, it was a clod-headed idea,” Robert put in with a shake of his carrot-topped head. “You’ll never find time to make another locket with all the custom orders you get.”
Amy and her father shared a quizzical look.
“Besides, I didn’t like him,” Robert added. “I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”
Amy lowered her gaze and brushed past him into the workshop. She’d liked the way Lord Greystone looked at her, very much.
Very much indeed.
TWO
COLIN ENTERED their carriage to find Kendra seated inside, her arms crossed. “What took you so long?”
He sat opposite her and looked out the window. The door of the jewelry shop had closed, so he couldn’t see the girl with the amethyst-colored eyes and the long, thick, ribbon-entwined plait.
“I ordered a signet ring,” he said.
“You what?”
Colin could have asked himself that question. But in all his twenty-one years he’d never met anyone like the girl who had made that exquisite locket. He’d wanted his sister to own it, and he’d wanted something she’d made for him, too. “I need a signet ring, for a seal.”
Kendra shot him a look of patent disbelief. “You couldn’t even afford this locket.” She shook her bright head. “Something happened in that shop.”
“Nothing happened,” he said, although he knew very well something had. And he knew the girl—Amethyst—had felt it, too. An instantaneous pull of attraction. He smiled to himself. He was glad he’d met her, though nothing would ever come of it.
But he wasn’t about to admit as much to his little sister.
Unfortunately, Kendra was observant as anything, a fact that could be deucedly inconvenient at times. “I just thought it was a beautiful piece of jewelry,” he told her, “and I wanted you to have it.”
“Od’s fish, Colin, you’re the one always lecturing us about saving funds…”
He turned off her voice in his head, instead remembering the little hitch in Amethyst’s breath when he’d accidentally-on-purpose brushed her hand.
“…planning for the future…”
She was completely off limits, of course. A sheltered young woman of the merchant class, for certain she was nothing like the promiscuous ladies of the court.
“And then you ordered a ring. You never wear jewelry!”
Which would suit him just fine, in truth—he wasn’t that sort of fellow anyhow. But well-suited though they might be, Colin Chase, Earl of Greystone, had no intention of marrying beneath himself.
“I cannot believe you bought this locket in the first place.”
Besides, he was already betrothed to the perfect girl.
“I do love it, though.”
As they passed Goldsmith & Sons, he glanced out the window. He would never go back there. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d set foot in a jewelry shop, and…
No, he had no reason to ever return.
“Thank you, Colin. I truly do love it.”
He blinked and looked at Kendra. She was sighing, gazing down at the locket and touching it possessively.
What had she been saying?
Oh, she loved it.
“I’m glad. Shall we go buy our brother that telescope he’s been prattling on about?”
“Are you sure? Ford will be thrilled.” Kendra bounced on the seat, then settled her skirts about her as though she’d just remembered she was a grown-up sixteen. “Can it be from me, too? Much as I hate to encourage his scientific obsession, he is my twin, and I like to make him happy.”
Colin gave his sister a tolerant smile, hoping the gentleman she married would have more energy than he did. “Yes, it can be from you, too. Now, where do you suppose we might find such a contraption?”
THREE
“Ring-a-ring o’roses
A pocket full of posies
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all fall down.”
“RELAX YOUR shoulders, if you please.”
Amy looked down to the seamstress who knelt at her feet, pinning up the hem of her wedding dress. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cholmley,” she said with a sniffle.
Mrs. Cholmley glanced up, concern in her kind hazel eyes. “Reminds you of your poor mama, don’t it? The children playing outside, I mean?”
Amy nodded, blinking back tears. She concentrated on the gown’s wide lavender lace skirt, counting the love knots—small satin bows sewn loosely all over, one for each wedding guest to tear off after the ceremony as a keepsake.
Fifty-eight, fifty-nine…or had she already counted that one? No matter, the hot press behind her eyes was gone. Her shoulders relaxed.
“It reminds me of my Edgar, too.” Mrs. Cholmley shook her head. “The song, I mean.”
Amy’s shoulders tensed up again. “Perhaps it’s best not to dwell—”
“Roses for the rash,” the seamstress went on, absently reaching for more pins. “Posies to sweeten the putrid air. The ring is…the plague-token, of course. Please, dear, try to relax.”
“I’m sorry.” Amy had her gaze trained back on
