The proprietor’s gaze shot back and forth between the two of them. “A lovely day now that the rain has ended, Lady Cherish. What can I do for you?”
“Nothing at—” she started, but Gawain cut her off.
“I am buying a gift for each of Lady Shoreham’s guests, but this young lady is being quite stubborn and will not choose anything for herself. I will not have her return to Lady Shoreham’s manor empty handed. Let me see your selection of lockets. Heart lockets, if you please.” He regarded several display cases. “Let me have a closer look at these, too,” he said, pointing to a row of cameo brooches. “These might do. Something simple but elegant.”
“At once, Your Grace. Let me show you my finest.” Mr. Sloane hurried into his back room to fetch his samples.
“Why are you doing this? Northam will only take away whatever I choose,” Cherish whispered, obviously irritated with him and also feeling humiliated over her circumstances.
“Fiona will let me know if he does, and I will come down on him like a Viking horde. I assure you, Lord Northam will not touch this gift if he values his life.”
She rolled her eyes at him, but he caught the glimpse of a smile that she was trying hard to hide. “You are being apish again, you know.”
He grinned. “I know.”
“I think you rather like flexing your muscles from time to time.”
His grin broadened. “I do. So let me have my pleasure, will you? I cannot abide grasping people. It sets my blood boiling, especially when they grasp what they can from someone who is not in a position to fight back.”
“I should fight back,” she said with a nod. “I am ashamed I haven’t done so yet.”
“Cherish, no. I did not mean to admonish you in any way. None of this is your fault. You could not possibly defend yourself without my assistance, since our English laws are stacked against you. Now, come look at what Mr. Sloane has brought out and choose something lovely for yourself.”
Since he gave her little choice, she chose a cameo brooch—a carving of a lady with a book—and pinned it to the lace fichu at her bosom so that it sat snugly just atop the cleavage of her breasts. “What do you think, Your Grace?”
That he was in serious trouble over this girl. His heart was in an uproar.
“Perfect.”
He led her back outside. The ladies all showed him their purchases. He smiled and nodded and pretended to care. Well, he was pleased they had all enjoyed their shopping outing and the gift each chose for herself.
However, every last one of them noticed Cherish’s cameo brooch. Dear heaven, did all women have such sharp eyes? They ought to be tossed into military service and trained as sharpshooters.
Fiona came to his rescue before gossip got out of hand. “Oh, thank you, my dear Bromleigh. Lady Cherish has been so helpful to me,” she explained to the others. “I begged for his help in selecting something special for her. I knew she would adore this cameo brooch as soon as I spotted it in Mr. Sloane’s shop. Did he have it set aside for us as I requested?”
Gawain cast her a wry smile. “All attended to.”
“Good.” She leaned forward, kissed his cheek, and then whispered, “You dolt. Whatever possessed you to buy her something sure to raise eyebrows? Is she not in a bad enough situation? Did you have to put her at risk of being labeled your paramour?”
“She is not in any danger of it.”
“Only because I jumped in and rescued her in time.”
He drew away.
After assisting all the ladies back into their carriages, he strode to his mount and prepared to ride home along with the other men. But his mind was caught up in thoughts of Cherish. So what if he had bought her that trinket? It wasn’t a diamond necklace or anything remotely sparkling. Nor had it made a dent in his pocket change. One would think he had given her a Crown jewel for all the fuss.
The look of pleasure in Cherish’s eyes once she had resigned herself to accepting it was worth everything.
He had just climbed onto his saddle when someone called to him from a passing carriage. His blood turned to ice.
Katie.
The young woman who had broken his heart all those years ago. Only now, she was Countess Albin.
The widowed Countess Albin.
What was she doing here? And what else was she going to do to ruin his life?
