Whatwas he talking about? No one in their right mind would pore over a catalogue for the privilege of purchasing a cravat pin.
It was Jonathan who longed for a secret memento. Something to keep hidden from view, close to his heart. Something he could easily explain away, if confronted by his own sentimentality.
“Not a cravat pin,” she said slowly, as though his self-conscious rush of prattle held actual worth. “A ring is too ostentatious, and a pin isn’t special enough. But there must be something that would do. It’s a good idea. I’ll think about what you might do.”
“Don’t worry about my project,” he said quickly. “You have enough to do without me adding to it.”
She sent him a droll look. “Would it surprise you to learn I can think and hammer arepoussérelief at the same time?”
His neck heated. “Sometimes I do a poor job of thinking, even when it’s the only thing I’m trying to do.”
The edges of her lips quirked. “I doubt that very much. You may be a peculiar sort, I’ll grant you that, but if even half your stories are true, you’re clever and compassionate.”
“And selfish,” he reminded her. “I do it for money.”
“Do you?” Her brown eyes looked as though she could see through to his soul.
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Silence? From the man who claimed to be an open book? No one had ever asked him anythingseriousbefore. Perhaps his thoughts on figs or rain or boot-polish. No one probed to get past the glib answer, the light repartee. He wasn’t sure he liked it. He didn’t know how to react.
Miss Parker returned her gaze to her chisel.
“You were right,” she said. “When you guessed I wanted to prove myself all by myself. My brother is a jeweler, too. He’s not allowed in my shop until itismy shop, and I can say, ‘Everything you see here is mine.Imade it.Iearned it. I’m successful.’” She glanced up, but her smile didn’t meet her eyes. “All that work has led to some very lonely moments.” She arched a brow. “I can admit it. Can you?”
He’d challenged himself to risk making a true connection.
“Life can be lonely,” he admitted. “Even when surrounded by new people to meet.” Perhaps especially then. “Calvin is the first partner I’ve ever had. It’s terrifying, and we’ve not even signed an agreement with the duke yet. It won’t change my life in any measurable way. It shouldn’t be frightening. I’ll still travel as much as I want, go wherever I wish. And yet, tying myself to him makes my success seemlessmine. As though I haven’t earned it. As though it doesn’t count.”
“And the loneliness?” she prodded.
Ah. He’d skipped past that, hadn’t he.
“It’s the way it must be,” he said simply. “I’m never anywhere long enough to see the actual impact of the thing I’m selling, to hear what anyone actually thinks, to make friends or even meaningful connections. And yet, if Idon’tkeep moving, the project I’m trying to advertise will reach fewer people, will have less momentum, a lower chance of success. Calvin is the brains behind Fit for a Duke’s fashions. I’m the feet that brings them to the people.”
He felt like he was balancing on a precipice.
Or rather, not balancing. Windmilling his arms wildly, in a desperate attempt to stay upright long after gravity had begun to win the fight.
She nodded. “That’s how I felt when I told my family about the agreement I’d made. The terms felt like more than anyone had a right to ask of me, and at the same time, my only chance to use my potential. And once I set out on that path, I had to continue.”
He tilted his head. “You’re exceptional. Mr. Marlowe was clever enough to recognize a hidden gem when he saw it. Cressmouth is his crown, and you its diamond. Even if all he could have were seven years, I’d wager he’s been gloating over his good fortune every minute of it.”
“ButamI self-made if someone else made it all possible?” Her eyes were haunted. “Or should I have stayed home with my family? Been the sort of daughter they had hoped for?”
“You’re the sort of woman anyone would hope for,” he said and meant it. “The question you’re asking happens to be my particular expertise. Someone investing in you doesn’t mean you have less worth, butmore. It means faith. You should believe in yourself, too.”
Her hands were in his. Had she placed them there? Or had he reached for her, during his impassioned speech?
It didn’t matter. He pressed each soft knuckle to his lips just as he’d dreamt of doing, then placed her palms one atop the other over his heart. He had never kissed anyone with an oak counter standing between them, but this seemed a perfect moment to start.
His blood thrummed. He caressed her cheek, lightly, softly. Drawing her in, but only if she wanted to come.
She leaned forward, tilting her face into his hand, toward him.
He brushed his mouth over hers, once, twice, then kissed her fully. Completely. He, too, could spot a diamond. But he didn’t want to take anything from her. He wanted to give. All the kisses she could desire, all the massages, all the shared moments, from the silly to the serious and everything in between. He couldn’t stop kissing her. Not when she returned his kisses so sweetly.
