The same attendants who had readied the shop for morning opening flooded the floors. Each servant was matched in black wool uniforms. Each man fell to a spot that had been clearly designated as their own.
Wide-eyed, Fleur took in the velvet-lined trays set down. The lit crystal sconces, silver candelabras, and sun rays streaming through the crack amid the curtains left the shop awash in a kaleidoscope of hues.
Fleur held her palms up and watched the sparkles dance from the exposed parts of her palms. Needing to see the collage of color upon her bare skin, she shed her gloves, let them fall, then brought her hands back up. Dazzled, Fleur’s lips slipped open, and as she turned a full pirouette in slow motion, a sigh slipped out.
“I thought you found sparkly frippery unworthy of your notice.”
“It is not the jewels,” she breathed. “Look at the beauty they make with the light.”
Prisms played from her fingers, and she moved those radiant shimmers of light about her and brought warmth within.
“It is like I’ve stepped into a rainbow,” she whispered.
She had a sudden, delicate prickling of awareness. Pleasurable tingles cascaded down her back.
Fleur stopped her turn and came face to face with Henry.
His dark, enigmatic stare flamed with intensity.
The younger Mr. Rundell shattered the spellbinding moment. “Your Grace?”
They both started.
“If we might begin with our first pieces for your consideration, Your Grace.”
Did she imagine Henry’s reluctance while he walked away? What reason would he have to be reticent? Why shouldshe?
Shewasn’t. At all.
With Henry distracted by the emerald, she caught Mr. Rundell checking his watch.
Crotchety, but clever as they came in business, a gentleman like the esteemed silversmith would stay long enough to please a patron of the Duke of Hartwell’s stature, and then hie it out as swiftly as possible.
Gathering her skirts at the sides, she hastened after the one person who could most definitely help her. “Mr. Rundell?”
She felt Henry’s stare, but the attendant interrupted, pulling the duke’s attention away and leaving Fleur to escape.
When she reached the illustrious goldsmith and silversmith, she favored him with a smile. “You might recall, sir, I came in search of your assistance.”
“How can I forget?” he mumbled. “I nearly had to call the constable.”
Fleur leaned up and made him her conspirator. “Mr. Rundell,” she murmured, “you and I both know His Grace was never going to have the constable summoned.”
“I referred to myself.”
Wrinkling her nose, Fleur sank back onto her heels. She brightened. “You wouldn’t have either.”
“We will never know,” he said deadpan, in what was certainly the closest the King’s jeweler got to humor. “What do you think I can help you with?”
“Iknowyou can.”
Henry’s exchange carried on in the background.
“…This one is particularly fine, Your Grace…”
Fleur peeked in Henry’s direction. With him fully absorbed, she went on to explain. “I have come across a piece of significance and will not trust it to anyone’s hands but yours.”
“…pink topaz and chrysoberyl…Your Grace…Your Grace…?”
