no more than three feet from what appeared to be the remains of a regiment of burly soldiers, each more fierce-looking than the next.
There were two customers in the shop—one a man currently examining a tray of diamond brooches, and the other deep in conversation with the clerk who apparently had been deemed trustworthy enough to wear his jacket.
“My goodness. I don’t know if we’ve stepped into a church or a prison.”
“Intimidating, isn’t it? I think I’d rather face several dozen of Bonaparte’s finest,” Coop agreed. “Just remember, you’re the customer. This is not the only jeweler in Mayfair.”
“In that case, I shall be Mari. I warn you, she can be embarrassing. Oh, listen. That man is arguing with the clerk allowed to wear his jacket.”
“The proprietor,” Coop corrected. “But you’re right. Since we’re being ignored by everyone in favor of said argument, what do you say we eavesdrop?”
“My thought exactly. We do rub along together fairly well, don’t we? I may only partway bankrupt your future generations.”
Apparently Coop wasn’t listening. “Hush.”
“Yes, course. But first we’ll strike my last statements. Ooof!”
Coop had rather roughly shoved her behind him, and just in time apparently, as the angry customer stormed past them in the narrow aisle and slammed his way out of the shop.
“Goodness,” Dany said as she extricated herself from her position between Coop and one of the long cabinets. “What do you suppose just happened?”
Coop took her hand. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
The proprietor was fanning himself with his handkerchief when he spied his new customers. He was a small man, almost painfully thin, his bulbous nose quite out of proportion with the rest of him, his pate as bare of hair as a polished egg even as his coal-black eyebrows were small bushes unto themselves. It was difficult to believe he was real, as he looked more like a pen and ink caricature than a man.
“My most sincere apologies, sir, that you should witness such outrageous behavior in my establishment,” he said in a voice half an octave higher than Dany’s. “Some people take umbrage at hearing the truth, sadly.”
“He didn’t care for the price you quoted?”
“More the fool I’d be if I were to turn over what he thought these were worth.”
At that, the man pointed to a garnet necklace, bracelet and eardrops lying on the countertop in an inglorious heap.
“Oh, my,” Dany said, eyes gone wide.
“But I suppose they’re mine now, considering that he all but threw the necklace at me.”
“Really?” Coop picked up the necklace and examined it. “Do you fancy it, my dear?”
She knew what he was asking, and gave him her best answer. “They put me in mind of the set I was given by my grandmother.”
“You don’t want these, sir. Pretty enough, but the stones are glass. Not even very good glass, as I pointed out to my unhappy patron. I am Mr. Jonathan Birdwell, proprietor,” he then continued, collecting his dignity. “How may I be of service to the gentleman?”
Dany looked down at herself, just to be sure she hadn’t suddenly gone invisible.
Coop allowed the necklace to fall back to the black velvet square they’d been resting on, the same black velvet square Dany had used to wrap the set before depositing it in the knothole. He looked to the door, but didn’t make any attempt to follow the unhappy customer who was probably long gone at any rate.
“Actually, Birdwell, idle curiosity forces me to ask the name of our disappointed gentleman.”
The proprietor wrapped up the jewelry and tossed the velvet square to one of the guards. “At least the gold is real—we’ll melt it down,” he said to the fellow before returning his attention to Coop. “I’m afraid I can’t divulge that information, as the gentlemen deserves his privacy.”
Dany saw that Coop was in the process of reaching into his pocket for his purse.
Oh, no, there was no reason for that. Not while Mari was around!
“You refuse? The insult! The sheer audacity! Little man, do you know to whom you are speaking?”
“For the love of...”
“...all that’s reasonable and decent, yes, I agree. Come, Lord Townsend, we shall take our custom elsewhere,” she continued over his rasped protest. “I may not yet be your wife, but I am your affianced bride, well aware of the respect due you.”
And me. Just in case, Jonathan, old sport, you thought I was something other than a young, innocent miss, which I’m certain you did!
“Wait!” Birdwell all but shouted. “That is,” he continued, grasping the shreds of his self-imposed dignity and wrapping them around him, “my deepest apologies, my lord. How could I not recognize your lordship, the hero of Quatre Bras...”
“And points west, yes,” Coop interrupted dully, pulling back one of the stools for Dany, who grinned into his glare as she pushed herself up onto the purple seat. “I remember.”
A little Mari, a sprinkling of Clarice...and a whopping big dollop of Dany. Why women did not rule the world was beyond imagination...
“You really wish to stay, my lord?” she asked, already depositing her reticule on the countertop. “Well, I suppose if this clerk here will deign to be more forthcoming...”
“I don’t know the man by name, my lord, that being one of the questions you don’t ask a moneylender.”
Moneylender? Oh, this was getting interesting!
“I understand,” Coop said. “He was here to sell the garnets?”
“That he was. We, um, we accommodate him from time to time. His, um, customer used it to pay a debt, or at least that is my understanding. I believe you know the rest.”
Dany signed theatrically. “How very boring. And here I thought there would be a good bit of gossip to be had, but apparently not.”
“Never say gossip, miss,” the proprietor begged as his eyebrows nearly crawled onto his forehead. “Buying as well as selling is my business, but I would never buy anything I recog—that is, I only buy very sparingly.”
“How reassuring,” Coop said, taking a seat beside Dany. “My fiancée, Miss Foster, and I are here to select a betrothal ring. One with a new stone, one that has never seen another setting.”
“Yes, my lord, your mother’s note this morning was quite specific. Um,” he added quickly when both Coop and Dany frowned, “lovely woman, your mother. Quite...quite a presence about her. She established an account for you just yesterday. But wouldn’t you care to step back into one of our private viewing rooms?”
“I like it here,” Dany said, only because she was still feeling contrary, if no longer invisible.
“We’ll remain here, Birdwell,” Coop said. “Miss Foster becomes light-headed in small rooms.”
Dany gave him a sideways kick, which was the least he deserved.
“Very well, my lord. I will get you a selection of my finest rings.”
“Don’t ask,” Coop said as the proprietor walked away, shooing one of the guards ahead of him.
“I’m sorry, but I fear I must. Your mother?”
“Embarrassing, I know. I’ll explain another time.”
“Yes, you most certainly will. You did promise to introduce me to her.”
“I know. I also promised myself I’d read the book on beekeeping