Felix thought of Maisie—how she had trembled in a carriage yet lifted her chin; how she had taught a boy to be brave by living it. He nodded. “Then we make a plan.”
Together, they climbed into the Klonimus carriage.
And just a few minutes later, on Regent Street, the Klonimus workshop glowed with lamplight, every surface alive with the quiet ache of work. Metal rasped under the file, drawers slid with soft clicks, and the space smelled of oil and warm brass. On a velvet pad, diamonds gleamed—old mine cuts, each one holding light as if it were breath.
Chawa Klonimus stood behind the central bench, her scarf pinned neatly, her calm presence settling over the room like a hand on a restless child’s shoulder. When Felix entered with Raphi and Alfie, her eyes found his. She looked at him the way a mother does when she already knows the end of the story, and only waits for her children to catch up.
“You have the summons,” she said.
Alfie placed it in her hand without ceremony. She read once, then again—eyes narrowing not from fear but in cold assessment. “He dresses the same old malice in respectable words.” She set the paper flat. “When a man like this aims at one of us, he aims at all of us.”
The truth of it loosened something in Felix’s chest. “I wanted to warn you,” he said. “He’s watching the Pearlers. He watched my door today. He stole my notes. If he cannot put the pieces together or find proof, he will invent it.”
Chawa’s mouth softened. “You think we did not see the watchers outside our shop?” She nodded toward Raphi. “He moved the boys through the alleys all morning. We’ve been in this city longer than the baron has dreamed of trespassing here.”
Raphi slid open a drawer and lifted a narrow tray. Diamonds lay inrows—small as frost, one larger stone cut to catch and return light.
Felix blinked. “Raphi—what—”
“For your vow,” Raphi said.
Felix shook his head, heat tightening his throat. “I didn’t—We don’t need—It feels too… modern.”
Chawa smiled, a private warmth. “Finding the woman you have loved since you were a boy is not modern. It is ancient.” She pushed the tray closer. “But giving her a circle of light—that is a promise the world can see.”
Felix reached without meaning to, brushing the largest stone with his fingertip. It flared—steady, quiet, unshowy. It made him think of Maisie’s laugh when she forgot to guard herself, of her hands cupping a child’s face and making the whole world gentler by nothing more than looking.
“I can’t ask her to bear more danger,” he said.
Chawa tipped her head. “You are not asking her to bear it. You are telling her that you will carry it with her.”
The door opened. Rain clung to the shoulders of a footman, and then Rachel Pearler stepped inside—with Maisie at her side, Deena close behind. Cloaks damp, cheeks bright from the chill. Wendy moved at once, drawing Deena to the hearth with a brisk kindness. Rachel joined Chawa at the bench as if she had always belonged there.
Felix couldn’t speak.
Chawa leaned close to Maisie, pressing both of Maisie’s cold hands between her own. “My dear, at last I meet you, darling.” She hugged her gently. “Listen to me. When men like the baron try to frighten a house, they start with the woman who keeps its lamps lit.” Her voice gentled. “But there are more hands for those lamps than he can imagine.”
Maisie’s eyes went to Felix. He saw the tremor she hid for Deena’s sake, and beneath it, the steadiness that had carried her this far. She didn’t glance first at the diamonds. She looked at him.
Raphi cleared his throat. “Tomorrow is not a court to strip a title. It is an inquiry to embarrass a household, perhaps to unseat a guardian. Maisie cannot be heard in the chamber. So we send what cannot be ignored: men with standing—and a boy who knows his own mind.”
“John will speak,” Rachel said. “He will say he trusts the woman who raised him, and fears the man who would tear him away. That truth cannot be dismissed.”
Maisie crossed her arms. “And when the bravery shakes after, we’ll be near enough to steady him.”
Alfie looked across the table. “And you, Felix?”
Felix’s gaze dropped to the tray Raphi had set between them. Diamonds gleamed in orderly rows, each one a shard of light caught and kept. His hand hovered, then he reached—hesitant, reverent—and touched the largest stone. It flared once, a quiet brilliance, steady as a heartbeat.
He looked up, not at the jewel, but at Maisie. The fear inside him was not of List. It was of asking her to believe that together could be safety, not another burden. His voice roughened. “I’m done hiding. But I won’t decide for you.”
Maisie stepped closer, the lamplight striking the damp ends of her curls, gilding them as though the light itself had chosen her. She looked down at his hand on the stone, then back at him. Her voice was steady, her eyes unflinching.
“Then decide with me. If they try to divide us tomorrow, let it be after we’ve chosen one another today.”
The room stilled. Felix closed his hand around the stone as if sealing an oath, then kissed Maisie’s hand. With Raphi’s quiet nod, he took the simple setting from the tray. His fingers trembled—more from joy than nerves.
He lifted Maisie’s hand, again cold and without gloves, fingers red from the chill. He slid the ring home, careful to make sure the diamond wouldn’t fall out before it was set. It fit as if it had beenwaiting for her all along.
