“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.
