seemed reluctant to give it to her. ‘I doubt he’ll give you an honest price.’
‘Probably not, but that is my affair.’
Finally, he handed it to her. ‘I’ll wait for you.’
She’d expected him to say that, and frankly she didn’t want him to leave. She just didn’t want him to know how scared she was. ‘I cannot stop you.’
And then she straightened her back like a fire poker and walked alone the rest of the way to the shop and up its crooked stone steps. She took a deep breath and opened the heavy, groaning door.
When she emerged four minutes later, her bag was no lighter. As feared, Josiah Fairly had offered insultingly low prices for her belongings, but she was too despondent to feel angry. She was tired and hungry, and she simply wanted to give up.
She immediately began searching the street, looking for him. She didn’t see him anywhere, and it was clear to her that he’d abandoned her. She couldn’t blame him, and she should have felt relieved, but instead she felt even worse. She sank down on to the steps, placing her bag beside her. Then she crossed her arms over her knees and buried her head inside them. She hadn’t cried in years. She’d been through worse humiliations. But right now—
‘Miss Thomas? What’s wrong?’
She raised her head slowly. He’d returned, and he stood right in front of her, looking so handsome…and she knew her eyes were red and her lips swollen.
‘Nothing,’ she said quietly, wiping away a tear.
‘Please don’t cry.’
‘I’m not.’
He mounted the steps and sat next to her. Not indecently close, but close enough that she forgot about the horrible man in the shop, and began to worry instead about his proximity.
‘I’d just walked down the road a bit,’he said. ‘I’m sorry—I expected you to be inside longer. He wasn’t helpful?’
She shook her head, waiting to hear him say he told her so.
But he didn’t. ‘So what’s it to be now? Would an ice cream cheer you up?’
She shook her head again.
‘No? Um…some proper food, then? How about a very large glass of brandy?’
She looked at him sideways, but she couldn’t help smiling this time. It had been so long since someone had been kind to her or cared if she was happy. ‘You’re absurd.’
The warmth in his green eyes made her catch her breath. ‘If it makes you smile. May I look in your bag?’
‘No.’
‘Please? Perhaps I can suggest something.’
Why not? she thought. She didn’t have the energy to argue any more. She shrugged. ‘Very well.’She slid the bag across the step until it sat at his feet.
He opened it rather hesitantly, as if he expected it to contain snakes. ‘Don’t know why you’ve been so mysterious about it. I’m sure if you took your necklace to a respectable dealer…’But then he broke off, frowning into the bag’s depths. ‘Miss Thomas, you really are carrying stones.’
Chapter Two
She bit her lip, trying to control the smile that threatened to break through. But he sounded so nonplussed it really was comical. Finally, she gave up and grinned at him. ‘They’re marble, actually.’
He nodded slowly, allowing his gaze to drift over her face slightly longer than was proper. She flushed and looked away, wishing he didn’t have such a disturbing effect on her—he, no doubt, thought her blushes were ridiculously missish. When she’d regained her composure and looked back, he’d removed one of the items in question. A fragment of a woman’s face, small enough to fit in his hand, delicately carved in white marble. All that remained of it was an almond-shaped eye, an ear, and an elegant nose. Isabelle knew her bag contained two more like it.
‘I take it she used to be a Roman goddess, or something like that,’ he said slowly.
‘Well…’
He didn’t let her finish. ‘And I was starting to think you were only a little bit eccentric. Why would you carry these things around?’
Her smile faded, and she replied coldly, ‘I was trying to sell them, clearly.’
‘Did the man offer you any money at all?’
She shook her head. ‘He didn’t quite know what to make of them.’
‘I shouldn’t think so. What do you think they’re worth?’
‘I don’t know. Next to nothing.’
He returned the object to the bag. ‘More than that, surely.’
She shrugged. ‘I…I’m going home now.’
He didn’t pass the bag back to her. ‘But I thought I was going to help you.’
‘How can you possibly help me?’
His answer didn’t come readily, suggesting he had no more idea than she. ‘Well…some advice, maybe. Perhaps you could sell these things to a collector? Someone with an interest in antiquities? You won’t find anyone who wants to buy them around here.’
She sighed unhappily. ‘A collector wouldn’t want them, either, since they’re not really old.’
‘No? Then why are they broken?’
‘They were broken to begin with, to make them look more, um…authentic.’
‘I see.’ He was looking at her curiously, and she suspected he didn’t see at all. ‘You mean they’re forgeries.’
She didn’t want to say the words. She just nodded.
‘You told the man they weren’t real, I trust?’
She frowned at him, not liking the implication. ‘Of course. I’m not dishonest.’
He reached into the bag and removed the red morocco case. ‘What about this necklace? Are the pearls real?’
She nodded. It was the last nice thing she owned, and it was more valuable than many of the things she’d already sold. She’d held on to it for personal reasons, but she could no longer afford to be sentimental.
‘It is yours, I hope.’
‘Are you suggesting I stole it?’
‘Did you?’ he asked.
She wanted to be angry, but it was a perfectly reasonable question. ‘It was a gift. It is mine to do with as I like.’
He nodded. ‘In that case I would be happy to buy it from you.’
She took the necklace from his hands and returned it to her bag. ‘I do not think it will become you.’
‘No?’
There was a lilting, teasing note to his voice, but she was entirely serious—serious and, now, getting angry. ‘No. I will not accept your charity. You’ve just met me and you needn’t feel you have to help me.’
‘It isn’t charity,’ he protested.
‘Oh? What use have you of my necklace?’
‘You needn’t sound so incredulous. I’m sure I can find someone to give it to.’
‘Who?’ she demanded, but then she immediately blushed, realising how naïve her question sounded. A man like him undoubtedly had about five mistresses, if not a wife.
‘I wouldn’t have to look that far. I could give it to you, for one.’
‘To me?’