Charlotte looked up through the tears pearled on her lashes. “M-More than words can possibly express.”
A smile touched his lips. “I’m so glad. It belonged to my mother, and my grandmother, and great-grandmother before her. The family has come to call it the Wrexford Sapphires. It gives me great joy that they are a perfect match for the next countess.”
“Franny combed through the East India warehouses for just the right shade of silk to complement the gems,” said McClellan.
“You knew?” exclaimed Charlotte, and then looked around at the boys as she recalled their laughter. “As did you two!”
“O’course,” drawled Raven. “Wrexford had several loose gemstones, and he sent us along with them to accompany Madame Françoise so that she could test them against the different fabrics in a variety of lights.”
“Both Mac and the Weasels were sworn to secrecy,” said Wrexford. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“And yet,” she replied, “you claim to be a man who doesn’t have a sentimental bone in his body.”
A gleam of unholy amusement lit his eyes. “I don’t. I merely like surprises.”
Charlotte leaned in to feather a kiss to his cheek. “You,” she whispered, “are a source of constant surprises.”
“In a good way, I hope.”
“Always—even in prickly moments. The fact that we sometimes challenge each other keeps us both from becoming too complacent.”
“We face a good many dangers in our daily lives,” said Wrexford dryly. “Complacency is not one of them.” He traced a quick caress along the line of her jaw and then stepped back. “Now turn around so that I may have the honor of bestowing the family heirloom on my countess-to-be.”
A tiny flutter danced down her spine as his hands brushed against the nape of her neck. Charlotte bowed her head, the coolness of the precious metal and gemstones accentuating the warmth of his touch as he fastened the clasp.
And somehow all her fears seemed to melt away.
“Ooooo!” Raven and Hawk let out appreciative gasps as she straightened and turned back to face them.
McClellan nodded in satisfaction. “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
Wrexford remained silent. All that needed to be said was swirling in the depths of his gaze.
“Now it’s time to be on your way.” McClellan made shooing gestures toward the door. “You mustn’t be late.”
The earl offered his arm. “Shall we?”
“Yes,” answered Charlotte. “I’m ready.”
* * *
The dowager’s drawing room was ablaze in a cheery light. The polished candelabras glowed like liquid silver as the flames danced over the graceful curves. Floating above the mellow crackling of the coals in the fireplace was the sound of two voices. Alison’s distinctive drawl was one of them. And as for the other . . .
Charlotte hesitated, pausing in the corridor several steps short of the open doorway as the butler went in to announce them.
“Fortes fortuna juvat,”whispered Wrexford, giving her arm an encouraging squeeze.
Fortune favors the bold—the Latin aphorism made her smile. “Boldness has never been a failing of mine. If anything, it’s been a flaw.” But she had promised herself not to dwell on the past. What mattered was the present. She had changed a great deal—and so, she imagined, had her brother.
Alison’s delighted exclamation cut short her reflections. “Don’t dawdle in the shadows, gel—come in, come in!”
Squaring her shoulders, Charlotte gave Wrexford a nod and together they crossed the threshold.
Her brother—now the Earl of Wolcott—was standing by the sofa, hands clasped behind his back. He was a little stouter, and a touch of grey silvered his temples, but his face was unchanged.Broad brow and blue eyes, just a shade lighter than her own . . . slanted cheekbones and a long, patrician nose . . .
And the same crooked smile that had always made him the most approachable of her straitlaced family.
“Charlie!” Wolcott, too, seemed to be studying her countenance. “By Jove . . .” After an awkward hesitation, he stepped forward. “How . . . How very wonderful to see you.”
