“No,” she said.
Today she’d worn one of her favorite of Jericka’s creations, a dark yellow day dress with black velvet trim.Drew had been unconvinced that yellow—really a sort of rich gold color, the yolk of an egg—would suit her, but Jericka had persisted and the resulting frock was sophisticated and different and just a little ironical. Drewsmina loved it. She’d worn it to show Jericka how much she loved it. She’d never expected Lachlan to remember their conversation about blue.
“No insect jewelry, either?” Lachlan asked.
Drew’s hand froze in the act of reaching for a fold of silk. He’d noticed. The blue garnet beetle. He’dseen.
She looked to him. “Insect jewelry?”
“Yes. The first night, you had a beetle pinned to your—to just...here.”
He raised a gloved hand and hovered his index finger over her chest; then he seemed to think better of it and turned the finger on his own chest, tapping twice just below his cravat.
“I... I’ve worn the caterpillar today, actually,” she heard herself say. “A bracelet.” She raised her hand between them and shook it so the carved ebony bracelet slid loose and peeked between the lace of her sleeve and the edge of her glove.
“A caterpillar,” he repeated, his voice marveling, delighted, as if she’d worn the bracelet as a surprise for his pleasure.
He caught up her hand and flipped it, setting off a swirl of sensation.
Tapping gently, he inched the carved beads around her wrist with his index finger.
“Do you wear an insect bauble every day, Miss Trelayne?”
“Most,” she said.
Their eyes locked, and the dress shop, the twins, London—they all fell away. She saw only her hand held within his, her beloved little caterpillar bracelet winking in the sunlight.
No one ever noticed the beetle or the caterpillar, not even Cynde. They were small indulgences, just for her.
“These were gifts?” he guessed.
She shook her head. “Oh no. My own collection. Bought over the years. Not valuable, except to me.”
“What do you like about them?”
“Well, they are different, aren’t they? Unexpected.”
“Like you,” he concluded, and something inside her chest hatched to life. A fresh hope. A chance. Hesawher. And the sight did not cause him to dismiss her or turn away.
If he couldseeher, he couldwanther.
If he couldwanther, he could—
Stop, stop, stop.
Silly, stupid Drewsmina.
She pulled her hand away and turned. She stalked to an adjacent shelf and squared herself before a stack of fabric, staring at it with all of her might, seeing every color and no color and a great, blank void.
You mustwantyour heart to break,she thought.
By some miracle, she remembered to check the girls. Imogene was industriously building a stack of bold, shiny silks on a counter. Crimson, ebony, royal blue, purple. Beside her, Ivy watched in baffled nervousness.
Good. Progress. At least someone was in the correct frame of mind.
Drew took a deep breath and reached for a bolt of fabric, any bolt. Putrid green wool fell into her hands.
“Imogene appears to be fashioning a flag for King Arthur’s court.”
