“Yes, but I came prepared to walk out of doors. I will hire us a hackney. I believe there is a stand just up here.”
“No need. I will simply borrow your warmth.” She snaked her other arm with the first, tucking herself up to him as they walked, their steps in tandem. “I have been cooped up indoors far too much today.”
His arm tensed, and his step faltered. “If you are certain?”
She loosened her hold. Had she set him off balance? “Completely certain. How was your work today?”
“Far faster. I gave your schedule to my clerk, and it worked wonders, even with our late start after returning from Weybridge.”
She squeezed his arm, happy that the adjustments had helped. “I am required here daily in the afternoons, but if your schedule is more open, perhaps we could lunch together before I need to arrive? I could bring you something around eleven.”
“So long as you take a carriage if there is rain. Or clouds. Or—”
She cut him off with a laugh. “I think I understand your meaning, sir.”
His smile down at her brought out creases in his cheeks and around his blue eyes, which flicked behind her, froze, then made a decision of sorts. “Come,” he said with a gesture of his head. “It will be warm in here.”
She turned, brows lifting at the store there. It seemed to be a jeweler’s shop, with several trays of finery in the window. She looked a question back at him, and he leaned a little closer. “You ought to have a ring when we marry.”
Her throat suddenly closed up, making it impossible to speak, though she couldn’t fathom why. This was Andrew. And theirs was a marriageagreement, nothing more sentimental than that.
He was watching her closely, his head bent to hers. “I know it is not exactly the thing, but my mother had a ring from my father. I’d always planned to buy my wife one.”
“Of course,” she said, or rather stammered.
This was Andrew. Just Andrew.
But as he led her into the store—which was indeed quite warm—something felt significant about the moment.
The shop was nearly empty, a man on one end of the counter helping a customer look through cases of a sort. Another, older gentleman looked up, smiling as they approached him. “I am Mr. Notley. How may I help you?”
“We are in need of a ring,” Andrew explained. And a good thing, because that strange tightness still had her by the throat.
“Should you like a plain band or one with an inlaid jewel?”
Andrew glanced at her, and she widened her eyes back, bewildered.
“Whatever you wish,” she whispered.
His eyes focused on hers for a long moment before he turned back to the proprietor. “Something inlaid, I think.”
“Ah, a popular choice. Perhaps a pearl or turquoise? It has healing properties, you know.” The man unlocked a drawer and removed a tray with a dozen rings. “We have a collection of Scottish agate and Portuguese topaz here as well that you might peruse.” He picked up one with a clear blue stone in a golden, worked band, showing it to them. “I will be just here should you need me. When you are ready, I will take the lady’s measurement.”
“Which do you prefer?” Andrew asked her when the man had moved to the other end of the counter, tinkering with a tray of watch fobs.
“I hardly know. I—” Her eyes lit on one. It was a delicate, gold band, with an uncut, banded gemstone, smaller than the tip of her pinky nail, placed within it. Following her gaze, Andrew picked up the ring.
“May I?” he asked, holding out his hand.
She slipped off her glove, trying to ignore the heat that seemed to be pooling into her cheeks, and trying to keep the fingers from trembling embarrassingly as she lifted her hand.
With a gentle touch, he grasped the base of her palm, supporting her wrist as his other hand slipped the ring on. It fit perfectly.
“I think that means this is the one,” he murmured. He tilted her hand, the almost translucent gemstone shifting, highlighting the banded colors. “The agate is unique. Perfect.”
She swallowed, nodding.
He watched her a moment longer, but she could not quite meet his eyes, and in a breath, he was signaling the shopkeeper again.
