Now it was Lizzie’s turn to be confused. “What are ye speaking of?”
“The gems, Lizzie. They are fake,” her mother explained in exasperation.
“But those pieces were Grandmama’s favorites. She wore them all the time.”
“Aye, she did. Because she thought the designer had done such fine work on them. They fooled e’eryone. Including ye, apparently. But they’re worth naught.”
Well, color her a fool. She felt her face flame in embarrassment. Her grandmama’s jewels were fake. She shook her head in disbelief. It didn’t matter in the end. She wasn’t after the jewels because they were worth a lot of coin. She was after them because they belonged to her grandmama. And then someone came into their house and stole them.
Stole what was rightfully hers.
She was only righting the wrong that had been done against them.
Her gaze clashed with Malcolm’s. He was watching her closely as he slipped a hand into his jacket pocket. When he withdrew it, her grandmama’s jewels were in his palm, which he held out for her to take.
Tentatively, she took a step forward. When her parents didn’t move to stop her, she closed the distance and scooped the jewels from Malcolm’s palm, cradling them to her chest. It was like hugging an old friend.
It didn’t matter that the gems weren’t real. What mattered were the memories the jewelry represented. Memories of Lizzie watching Grandmama ready herself for a party or a ball. Of her grandmama’s nimble fingers clasping the necklace around her slender neck and latching the earrings into each lobe. Grandmama would regale Lizzie with stories from her past. She reveled in those memories.
And the jewelry played a large part in each one.
Even now, with them cupped in her palms, she felt her grandmama’s presence. That was all she cared about.
“Lizzie,” Papa called, drawing her attention back to the present. “We have much to discuss with Lord Kennedy. We will decide upon proper punishment later. Until then, go to your room.” Her father turned his back to her, effectively dismissing her as if she were a petulant child.
Malcolm frowned but said naught.
Embarrassed that she was being treated like a child, especially in front of Malcolm, she refused to meet his eyes. Instead, she dropped her head and left the room.
Fighting back tears, she made her way upstairs as the doors to the salon clicked shut.
