“Jade…” He thought for a moment before the answer came to him. “If C stands for Claire, could your ring spell out Claire…l-o-v-e-s…Jonathan?”
She grinned. “You solved it. Well done!”
“And with so little help from you,” he deadpanned, making her giggle.
But the secret he’d deciphered touched him deep inside. To think she’d chosen that message to wear always…
“Claire loves Jonathan,” he repeated, feeling his heart swell. Somehow the words hit differently standing in a workshop than they had in a passionate embrace. “Does she?”
“She does.” Wearing a mischievous smile, she dropped into a deep curtsy. “I love you, your grace.”
This time, he couldn’t chide her for the your grace. He was too busy marveling at how everything had worked out. “I love you, too.”
He held the jade stone up to the band still encircling his pinky. As he admired the effect, she moved closer to do the same.
“It’s a perfect wedding ring,” he declared, sliding the band off. “May I put it on you?”
“No,” she cried on a laugh, “not before the wedding.”
“Why not?” He reached for her hand. “I just want to see how it looks.”
Evading him, she snatched the ring back. “It would be bad luck!”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Tomorrow, then.”
“Tomorrow,” she agreed, smiling into his eyes.
He wanted to kiss her. But since that was bound to lead to a long delay, he drew away from her instead—and stumbled backwards into a stool, toppling its feline occupant.
“Jonathan!” Claire gasped.
Windmilling his arms, he managed to regain his balance. “I’m all right,” he mumbled. “Poor Kippers?—”
“He’s fine, he landed on his feet,” she said tersely. “Where’s the cabochon?”
“Hmm?”
“The cabochon!” she raised her voice. “The jade stone! Have you still got it?”
“Oh! It’s—yes, here it is.” He showed her the little stone in his palm.
“Thank heaven!” She plucked it from him, then sagged in relief with a hand over her heart. “Horsefeathers, that was close! For certain it would have fallen between the floorboards! What a miracle you kept hold of it.”
He gave a modest shrug. “Seems we’ve got luck on our side.”
“I suppose we must,” she agreed with a weak laugh. “Still, this is the only ‘J’ stone I have that will fit, so I should like to get it set before something else happens…”
“Of course. And I must go to Wilson. I may be some time arranging everything for his journey, but I shall come to you as soon as I can.”
“You’d better.” Already seated at her workbench, she blew him a kiss. “I won’t wait all night.”
Eighteen
WITH CLAIRE’S WARNING hastening his steps, Jonathan headed to the servants’ quarters—where he discovered Wilson was not abed.
A series of inquiries sent Jonathan zigzagging about the castle and grounds. Finally he traced his quarry to the Black Horse. He strolled down to the village—a quarter-hour amble—and ducked inside the boisterous tavern.
Where he discovered Wilson had fallen deep into his cups.
