“No, you haven’t!” he said back, laughing. “I’ve a quarry now, remember? You must come. I’ve decided I need to show it to you.”
“Why?” she said, reaching down to grip her stool cushion beneath her as though it would anchor her in the spot. “It’s a hole with rocks in it.”
“Because,” he said, “I’ve decided to gift you a bushel of quartz for your theater. We uncovered a vein of the stuff and it has come to my attention that the place’s chandelier is very shabby. Certainly too shabby for Shakespeare.”
“It’s not an opera house,” she protested, already a little weakened by the offer. “‘Quartz’?”
“Well, technically it’s flint. But it’s very fine. Transparent in some places. Druzy as well, which is kind of silverish. There’s chalcedony, some bands of agate too. You could have one with purple stripes. And of course, there’s jasper too.”
“‘Jasper’?” she repeated weakly.
Malcolm nodded, blinking. “The red sort mostly, but some green.”
“Oh.” She swallowed, licking the dryness from her lips. “The rocks.”
“Thegems. Come on! Sunlight is burning.” He held his hand out to her, his eyes widening at her dress when she stood. “You’ll match the agate bands! You could have the most colorful chandelier in England if we assemble it the way I’m thinking.”
“Oh, all right.” She sighed. “But we have to go right now? This instant? With all those men down there?”
“Only some of them,” he said, wide-eyed and innocent. “The others are staying to start digging the foundation for the new hothouse. Jasper and a few of the old timers are coming along, though.”
“Ah,” she said, wincing. “I thought he might be staying too. Mal, can just you and I go? Later?”
“No,” said Malcolm, some of his brightness sharpening to a glint. “I hate climbing up the Downs and you know it. Either you come now, or the next time, I’m bringingFaitherwith us. I saw your blasted letter.”
Libba stared at him for a moment. Then she frowned and said a very naughty word.
“Excellent,” he declared, clapping his hands together. “Wear boots or you’ll ruin your stockings.”
Somehow, between leaving her bedroom and awaiting her on the landing, he’d amassed more hangers-on.
Libba appeared to Malcolm with his throng of workers at his back, and Errol, Rhys, and Monica at his front, clearly all intending to join on this trek.
“Buckets of sediment for under the brick,” Errol was saying to Malcolm. “Drainage is important for tropical flowers.”
“Shavings and chips of colorful stones have so many applications, you know!” Monica was saying to Rhys, dreamy eyed. “The colors! Rhys, think of the colors!”
Libba gave a heavy sigh.
She met Jasper’s eye across the throng. His hair was still ruffled from where she’d fisted her fingers in it, fluffy and curling away from his ears as though trying to remember the shape of her handprints.
His cheeks were flushed and rosy, though that very well could’ve been from the brisk temperature and misty wind. His lips looked fuller than she remembered them to be. Had she done that?
He quickly averted his eyes rather than holding her gaze.
The coward.
“I’m always thinking of the colors,” Rhys assured Monica. “Oh! That makes me wonder if we can dye the fairy fire.”
“Oh, shall I fetch Ruby?” Monica said, breathless.
“No!” Libba snapped. “We have quite enough people. Onward!”
There were far too many of them to take a carriage, especially with all the workers in tow, but the path to the Downs was not far from Starling’s Rest. The house sat on a hill midway between the bustle of the town center and pavilions and the more industrial outliers that housed the barony’s commercial interests.
It would likely take about half an hour to walk there with a crowd this size.
She pushed through the others to reach Malcolm before Jasper could take his side, grabbing his elbow as they turned onto their path and taking a little sip of breath to steel herself for what she needed to say.
