Ford and Jason laughed, while Kendra and Amy exchanged a look of confusion. But then dishes were passed back and forth across the table, plates were filled, more toasts were drunk, and the odd comment was forgotten.
Amy could eat no more than a few bites of the impressive feast. Her stomach churned with a combination of excitement, exhaustion, and a tinge of inebriation. Besides, the press of Colin’s thigh against hers, under the cover of the table, kept her thoughts elsewhere.
Conversation whirled about her. She paid scant attention to most of it, but she did take notice of Kendra’s reaction when Colin announced they were leaving. Kendra wasn’t at all pleased to be having her brand-new sister snatched away so soon.
“You cannot!”
“The dickens we cannot. If you think I’m spending my wedding night with my little sister hanging outside the door…”
“But you have only Ebony. Surely—”
“You can borrow my carriage,” Jason offered pleasantly.
“Thank you, but I sent for my own carriage this morning.”
“But—but—”
Colin smiled when his sister sputtered.
“Amy has no clothes!”
“She has a trunk full of clothes you picked up from Madame Beaumont only this morning.”
“She has no shoes, no stockings, and no nightclothes,” Kendra returned smugly.
“Surely you can lend her a pair of shoes and some stockings.” Colin grinned. “And she has no need of nightclothes.”
At this announcement, everyone fell into embarrassed silence—even Colin, who looked down and gulped from his goblet of claret. But Kendra quickly changed the subject, and thankfully that odd comment was forgotten, too.
Amy hazily remembered being bundled into Colin’s carriage and settling her head against his shoulder. The next thing she knew, she was back at Greystone, in his—their!—bed, wearing naught but her chemise. But she wasn’t cold. A blaze roared in the fireplace, and Colin’s breath was warm on her neck where he’d nuzzled her awake. And though the thin fabric of the fine chemise left little to the imagination, she didn’t feel nervous or embarrassed under his emerald-green gaze. She only felt happy.
“Have you slept enough yet?” he’d whispered. And at her answering smile, he’d proceeded to keep her awake until dawn illuminated the sky.
Not that she was complaining. Not one bit.
Judging by the bright sun through the window, it was afternoon now. Amy stretched beneath the sheets, content. She ran her hand over the shallow hollow where Colin had lain, breathing in his distinctive scent and imagining she could still feel his warmth. She had no cause to be concerned about his disappearance—he was her husband now.
The thought brought a smile and a vision of herself standing beside him in the old church. Sapphire and cream, black and white. They hadn’t matched. It had been perfect.
No…
No, it hadn’t been perfect. A disturbing emptiness seemed to open in Amy’s middle.
What had she done?
She’d taken one vow and broken another. She’d never be able to reestablish Goldsmith & Sons now. Dear heavens, would her father ever forgive her? Would she ever forgive herself? Generations of craftsmanship, all ending with her, ending with her selfishness.
She should have married Robert willingly—then none of this would have happened. No matter that the mere idea twisted her insides; she would have had the solace of Goldsmith & Sons, of her craft, of knowing she’d done the right thing.
And she’d done Colin no favor, either. What had he said? I knew I should have killed him. Instead, he’d married her to save her from Robert. And now he was stuck with a commoner for a wife, when she knew he’d wanted a titled lady.
Did he really even love her? She curled into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut tight. Strange patterns danced behind her lids, making her dizzy. The claret punch from last night wasn’t sitting well in her stomach.
She lay there for long minutes, hugging her knees, blanking her mind, forcing her breathing to slow and her heart to gradually calm.
At long last, she felt able to think more clearly.
What was done, was done. She would have to bury the guilty feelings deep. Her love was so overwhelming, surely everything would work out. She’d had no choice.
No other choice she could have lived with.
Opening her eyes, she straightened and rolled onto her back, gazing up at the cream-colored canopy. A warm fire crackled on the gray stone hearth. Yellow sunshine streamed through the window. A brilliant flash of purple arced from where her hand lay on the blanket.
She sat up, drawing a quick breath. In all the excitement, she hadn’t found time to inspect it last night, but the ring was magnificent: a large heart-shaped amethyst surrounded by tiny seed pearls and table-cut diamonds, set in a framework of delicate filigree reminiscent of the finest sixteenth-century artistry.
Where had Colin come by such a masterpiece on such short notice? She waved her fingers, watching the play of light on the deep purple amethyst and old diamonds. The ring was eighteen karat gold, the shank worn thin with age and use, but still a rich yellow. Lovely, yet strange somehow…foreign…she’d never worn jewelry not made by a member of her family.
She pulled off the ring.
At her burst of laughter, Colin appeared in the doorway, sporting a wide grin.
“Good afternoon, sleepyhead. What’s so funny?”
Sunlight flashed off the amethyst in the palm of her hand. “This,” she choked out between giggles. “This ring.”
His smile disappeared, replaced by a frown of hurt. “It was my grandmother’s,” he mumbled grimly. “I thought…”
Her laughter died as she realized he thought she was disparaging the beautiful piece of jewelry. Clutching the quilt around herself, she jumped off the bed and rushed to his side. “No, it’s lovely,” she cried. “But look—just look inside.”
Colin took the ring. “Inside?” he asked blankly.
“Yes! Look there—do you see it?”
He frowned, squinting at the tiny marks. “An eagle?”
“A falcon! And the letters GSJ.”
“So…”
“Goldsmith and Sons, Jewellers. Don’t you remember the falcon on our sign? Colin,
