She took her hand away. “Oh. Oh, yes. No fuss, no protest. Oh, Kit, he’ll love it.”
He made her select the watch although she wanted him to choose. First, she was looking at the plain ones, but he insisted she pick up and handle the large, gold ones.
“This one looks just like the onePapàhad,” she said under her breath.
“Then that’s the one.”
“Thank you, Kit. He’s going to adore it.”
He leaned on the counter as the man wrapped the watch in velvet so it wouldn’t get scratched. “Just don’t let him take it apart to see how it works. He’ll have a devil of a time getting it back together.”
“Take it apart? Oh, you’re joking.”
“No. I took my first three watches apart. Made a mess of them. And got spanked for it. Of course, I was seven.”
She giggled. “So naughty. I wish I had known you when you were a boy.”
How wonderful it would have been if he’d had a playmate like Franny to tell him nice things about himself. To wear down his sullen moods with her giggles.
But hehadhad exactly that, hadn’t he?
He darted a look at Franny who was chatting now with the man. She looked nothing like his mother. A tall, thin, regal duchess. A daughter of a duke, herself.
But appearances aside, Franny and his mother were very alike. His mother had always seen the best in him, encouraged him, teased him, tried to lighten his gravity with her own joy.
He slapped his hand down on the counter. “I need to buy a Christmas gift for my mother.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The man bowed and suddenly trays of necklaces and bracelets and rings and and brooches and tiaras and diamonds, pearls, emeralds, rubies were being laid out.
Franny clapped her hands. “Oh, Kit. What fun! You must pick something extravagantly beautiful for her.”
“You choose.”
“What have you gotten for her before?”
Nothing. He’d never bought his mother a Christmas present. Good God, he was an arsehole.
He shrugged, but Franny pressed him. What colors did his mother wear, what stones did she like?
The man helping them cleared his throat. “Her Grace honored us two years ago when she asked us to adjust the band on a ruby ring. Her fingers had become narrower, she said, and she was afraid of losing it.”
A ruby ring, a gift from his father. He closed his eyes. He could see the ring on his mother’s hand now. He’d always liked that glint of red.
He opened his eyes. Franny and the man were looking at him expectantly.
“Rubies, then.”
Franny picked up a ruby tiara. “What is her hair like, Kit?”
“Thick. White.”
“White-white or gray?”
“Snow-white. But not London snow. Pure, white, country snow.”
“Oh, then this would be perfect. The stones will look gorgeous against white hair.”
“That’s it, then.”
