Amethyst (3 page)

When he finally spoke, his voice, smooth and deep, sent a shiver down her spine. "Have you a locket with…amethysts?"

Amethysts…

She opened her mouth to answer, but the words refused to come out.

"No, my lord, we don't," Hugh said. "But emeralds would suit the lady—"

"Yes," Amy interrupted, finally finding her voice. "Yes, we do have amethysts! If you'll but wait one moment." She reached to grab the key ring off her father's belt, then turned and bolted for the workshop.

"What are you in such a rush for?" Robert asked as she jammed the key into the first padlock on their iron safe chest.

"Customers are waiting." Having removed the second padlock, she knelt on the floor and began working the twelve bolts in their complicated sequence.

Robert wandered over, wiping blunt hands on his apron, leaving streaks of abrasive gray slurry. "What customers?"

"A gentleman and his sister," she said as the last bolt slid into place, allowing her to access the final lock. She opened it with the largest key, then lifted the lid and rummaged inside.

Luckily, the locket she was after was there in the top tray. "Ah, here it is." Just seeing the piece, the shimmering gold, the sparkling gems, made her smile.

She rose and headed back to the showroom, Robert at her heels. He lounged against the archway and fixed Lord Greystone with a distrustful blue stare.

Well, she would just ignore him.

"I found it," she announced, handing the locket to Lord Greystone. She watched for his reaction even as she plunked the key ring into her father's outstretched palm.

Lord Greystone blinked at the piece in his hand. "Beautiful. It's truly beautiful."

Amy's heart swelled. "It does have amethysts, my lord, and diamonds, too."

"I can see that," he said, staring at the locket. "It's splendid."

It had taken her weeks to make it, so many hours she could still see it with her eyes closed. On top, a cutwork pattern of diamond-set leaves surrounded an amethyst flower. The lozenge-shaped locket dangled beneath, encrusted with amethysts and diamonds, its lid enameled with delicate violets. Swinging from the bottom, a large baroque pearl gleamed.

Lord Greystone finally looked to her father. "It's remarkable."

"
I
made it." Amy felt a flush blossom on her cheeks.

Lady Kendra's mouth dropped open in surprise. Lord Greystone's startled gaze swung to Amy, over to her father, who nodded proudly, then back to Amy. "I don't believe it. You're—"

"A woman?" She heard the challenge in her own voice.

His grin was a bit sheepish. "However did you learn to make something like this?"

Her father cleared his throat. "We hadn't much to do during the Commonwealth, my lord. I expect you were abroad?"

Lord Greystone nodded.

"Well, jewelry was much frowned upon, other than some mourning pieces. I had time aplenty to train Amy in the arts of goldsmithing." Amy's father placed a possessive hand on her shoulder. "She's a natural—even did the enameling herself."

"I must—I mean,
Kendra
—must have it."

Hugh shook his head. "I'm afraid it's not for sale. It's Amy's own keepsake."

"Of course it's for sale, Papa." Amy regarded Lord Greystone with a speculative gaze. "But it's very expensive."

"I'd expect so. We'll take it."

Lady Kendra turned to him, a frown creasing the area between her light green eyes. "Are you sure, Colin?"

He looked down at his sister. "Don't you like it?"

"It's lovely, but…"

"I said I would buy whatever you chose for your birthday. I want you to have it." He fished a pouch of coins from his surcoat and handed it to Amy. "Here. Take whatever's fair. Include a chain; I want her to wear it now."

Shocked that he would leave the price up to her, Amy fumbled with the pouch. She drew out a few coins, then a few more. The materials had been costly, and the piece had taken a lot of her time—she didn't want to take advantage of the man, but she wouldn't short herself, either.

"Papa?" Closing the pouch, Amy showed her father the gold she'd taken.

Hugh nodded. "That's fine, Amy." He pocketed the coins and placed a gold chain on the counter.

As she returned the pouch to Lord Greystone, he handed her the locket. His fingers brushed her hand, and a brief, warm shiver rippled through her. Her breath caught; she hoped no one noticed.

Robert sullenly pulled a cloth from his apron pocket and moved from the archway to stand beside her. He polished the glass case as she threaded the chain through the bale on the locket, then held it up for Lady Kendra to see.

"Ooh," Lady Kendra breathed. "Will you put it on me?"

She turned, and Lord Greystone lifted her hair so Amy could fasten the clasp.

Lady Kendra faced Amy and touched the locket reverently. "Thank you so very much. I'll treasure it always."

"Thank
who
?" her brother prompted with a smile.

"Thank you, Colin," she said and turned to embrace him.

Amy bit her lip, feeling an unexpected twinge of envy for this woman's shiny red curls and low-cut gown. But most of all, she envied the way Lady Kendra was hugging Lord Greystone. She glanced down at the counter, lest Robert catch sight of her telltale eyes.

Lord Greystone ushered his sister outside, then lingered in the doorway, looking oddly reluctant to leave.

"Can…" The long fingers of one hand drummed against his muscled 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.

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 was closed, so he couldn't see the girl named Amethyst, the girl with that long, thick, ribbon-entwined plait his fingers had itched to unravel.

"I ordered a signet ring," he said.

"You
what
?"

Colin could have asked himself that question. He'd known he was acting out of character, but in all his twenty-eight 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. He'd noticed the way the girl's amethyst gaze had been drawn to his own. She'd felt it, too—that compelling, undeniable attraction. Remembering, he smiled to himself.

It made a man feel good, though nothing would ever come of it.

Unfortunately, his younger sister was observant as hell, a fact that could be deucedly inconvenient at times. "I just thought it was a beautiful piece of jewelry, 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 considering the possibility of landing that enticing little jeweler in his bed.

"…planning for the future…"

She was completely off limits, of course. Not a widow, not an actress, not a lightskirt, not a highborn member of King Charles's licentious court.

"And then you ordered a ring. You never wear jewelry!"

A sheltered young woman of the merchant class, she would never bed with any man outside of marriage. And 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 woman.

"I do love it, though."

As they passed Goldsmith & Sons, he glanced out the window. He would never go back there. It had been a harmless flirtation, nothing more. 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 fingering 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 hankering for?"

"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 grown up. "Can it be from me, too? Sometimes he drives me mad as a Bedlam wench with his scientific obsession, but he is my twin, and I love to see him happy."

Colin gave his sister a fond smile, hoping the man she finally consented to marry 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?"

"Ring-a-ring o'roses
A pocket full of posies
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all fall down."

"HOLD STILL, 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. A tear escaped and splashed on the older woman's hand.

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 more 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—

"It's only a game, dear. Do you think they even know what they're singing?" The seamstress reached absently for more pins, talking to herself, so far as Amy could tell. "Roses, the rash; posies to sweeten the putrid air. The ring is…the plague-token, of course." She sighed. "My Edgar had one—not rosy, but black and filled with pus. He screamed so when the doctor cut into it. Lud, I still hear him in my dreams. Turn, please."

With a sigh of her own, Amy obeyed. She stared out the window at the sky, gray with smoke from the incessant burning of sea-coal.

"And your mama? Did she suffer one?"

Her gaze dropped to Mrs. Cholmley's gray head. "Suffer what?"

"A plague-token."

Would this woman never stop chattering? Amy's fists clenched. "We don't know. At the first sign of fever, she begged us to go to Paris and stay with Aunt Elizabeth." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I was in Paris. I don't know what happened to her. I know only that she's gone."