The man praised their choice, though she imagined he would have said the same words should they have picked any other ring in the store, and upon being told they would not need the size altered, completed the transaction.
Sophie just stood numbly by as it was all handled. A ring—she’d never considered what it might feel like to have a man gift her a piece of jewelry. Most especially not Andrew, the man she’d once thrown mud at, and who had stepped on her toes when they danced at his mother’s ball. She had especially not considered a gift being given for theirwedding. But she found herself suddenly predisposed to love the agate ring. She thought, somehow, that given hours in the store, she might have settled upon the same one.
Andrew requested that they take the ring with them, and when they stepped back into the cold air, the sun much further along the horizon, he turned to her. “I informed the staff we were married before I went to work today. It might—that is, if you feel comfortable—it might be a good thing if you began wearing this now.” He held out the box that housed the perfect little ring.
Shadows were creeping out over the road, and the streetlamps at the corner were already lit, so she could not see his expression particularly well. “Certainly,” she agreed, taking the box. She could not say exactly why, but she did not want him putting the ring on her this time—did not think her nerves could handle it.
When she had it settled in place, her glove returned, and the box tucked into his pocket, they continued down the lane.
“I am sorry to have sprung that on you,” he said, when they’d walked in silence for nearly a block. “We have so little time, and are meant to already be wedded, so I assumed we should take advantage of the moment.”
She shook her head. “No. No, I completely understand. Thank you… It is a beautiful ring.” And it felt wholly unfamiliar, wrapping her finger and digging into its neighbors from beneath her glove.
“Fitting,” he said, eyes on hers.
What exactly did he mean by that?
A cold wind suddenly gusted toward them, and she tucked closer to him. He began to shrug from his coat, but she stopped him with a hand. “We are not far.”
“Exactly. And I will be fine without this for that distance.”
Before she could object again, he had the coat draped over her shoulders, its warmth and scent enfolding her.
“Thank you. Again.”
He smiled, keeping stride with her as she pushed her hands through the sleeves. “Did you enjoy your first day?”
“I have missed the numbers. But I did not love having Mr. Whitcomb looking over my shoulder at every other moment.”
“He will soon see your worth. It is impossible not to.”
It had to be the warmth of the coat that caused the heat to bloom in her chest then.
The sky was far clearer when Sophie set off on foot the following day. Still, she eyed the few wispy clouds skeptically. She was fairly certain Andrew would berate her if she were to incur any untimely weather on her way to the bank.
Yet the chill was all that existed to deter her, so she was perfectly safe the entirety of the way.
He must have known she was arriving, because as she neared the doors, they opened, and there he stood, smiling at her and holding out a hand for the basket. She relinquished it and followed him back to his office.
“These sandwiches appear far more appetizing than the last,” he said with a grin as he unpacked the contents onto his desk.
“I asked your cook to add a bit less water this time.” She pulled off her gloves, twisting at the little ring on her left hand. She didn’t seem capable of leaving it be.
“Leave it to you to see to all the little details.” He winked.
She rested her hands on the chair across from him, a smile tugging at her cheeks. “I even ordered the weather into submission, you might have noticed.”
“Brilliant, you are.”
She tossed her head. “I am simply one not to disappoint.”
“I shall bear that in mind.”
“Best do.” She gave a decisive nod.
Rather than sitting on that side of his desk, he gestured to the chairs by the fire. “Shall we?”
She settled herself into one of the chairs, unable to keep from slipping off her shoes and tucking her feet beneath her. He did not even blink at the show of indecorum. It was relieving—she knew some things would have to change for a married woman, but she hoped he would not wish to alter her strange tendencies overmuch.
