“Do you want to buy it or not?” Octavia half made to reach out and take the heirloom back. “Otherwise, I am sure that Mr. Harrington down the road would love to buy –”
“No, no.” He snatched the heirloom away. “I never said that. And do not waste time going to Mr. Harrington, for he is sure to rip you off.” He scoffed. “You speak of thieves? He is the biggest one that I know.”
“And you won’t try such a thing?” she scoffed.
He looked at her flatly. “I am many things, Miss Finch, but a thief is not one of them. My prices are fair, which is why you always come to me first.”
“Well then…” She raised an eyebrow at him. “How much is it worth?”
“Ah…” His eyes sparkled. “Is that not the question…”
The heirloom in question was a small pendant no bigger than a chestnut. The chain was cheap gold, but the ruby that sat at its center shone bright, even in the dim light of the store. Was the ruby real? Octavia had no idea.
In fact, she knew almost nothing about the pendant in question. Her mother had always said it was a family heirloom, passed down through the generations. But why their family had such an heirloom as that, how they could have possibly come into its possession, was beyond Octavia’s understanding.
Not that it mattered. Its material worth was not why Octavia coveted it the way that she did. The fact was, this pendant was the last thing she had to remember her family goodbye, and that she was ready to finally part with it was a sign of just how desperate she had become.
“Oh yes…” Mr. Tidbit clicked his tongue as he studied the pendant. “This is quite a piece… the chain will need to be replaced, of course. Perhaps a new bracket.”
“How much, Mr. Tidbit?”
He looked up at her, emotionless and vague. “One hundred pounds.”
Was it for anything else, Octavia would not have hesitated for even a second. One hundred pounds was a small fortune, enough for her and Henry to live off for over a year. At the very least, it would allow them to leave London for good, with enough left over so that she could search for work without worrying about starvation or worse.
But where this pendant was concerned…
“You are trying to steal from me,” she said. “Ironic, as you just made a point about not being a thief.”
“How dare you!”
“No, how dare you?” she said. “A pendant like this is worth… five times that amount.”
“Is that so?” he snorted. “Where the jewel itself is indeed valuable, the worth of such a piece as this comes from its history. And seeing as you cannot tell me it's history, then that worth is non-existent.”
“Two hundred pounds,” she counted. “And not a penny less.”
“One hundred,” he said without blinking. “And I am only offering you that much because I know you, Miss Finch. I do not wish to see you starve, so my generosity is rather piqued at the moment. But try to barter again, and I will throw you from the store.”
There was nothing that Octavia could do.
If she turned down this sale, she would not have the money to run away, meaning that Marcus and his bullyboys would find her, and the result of that…that is something best to be avoided.
She did not want to sell this heirloom at all. Nor did she want to sell it for such a small price… an especially small price when taking into consideration its sentimental value. But there was nothing Octavia could do, so she thought of Henry, the life that she wanted for him, and what she would do to see him get that life…
“All right,” she sighed with regret. “One hundred pounds will…” Octavia trailed off when she heard a voice coming from somewhere within the store.
“… apparently, he has gone through half a dozen governesses already,” a female voice said. “The man is desperate.”
“As he should be,” another female voice chuckled. “From what I have heard, that boy of his is the devil reborn. No amount of money could convince me to look after him.”
“The son of a duke…” the first voice chimed back in. “Money is not the issue. And from what I have been told, there is little he will not pay to see someone willing to tame the child.”
“Good luck,” the other woman snorted. “Even if I know someone, to suggest such a job as that is to send them through the gates of hell.”
“Agreed,” the first woman said. “I know that he is searching for a governess now, but I doubt he will find one anytime soon. Reputations such as his boy has created make these things rather difficult.”
The two women who were speaking came around the corner of the store. Octavia did not know them, but that made no difference to her. She heard what they’d had to say, she listened, and she formulated a quick plan that ignored their warnings and focused on that which mattered: money.
