Scandalous Regency Secrets Collection. Кэрол Мортимер

of the stools would be shorter. “Yes, thank you. Now step back if you please.”

      He squeezed her hand encouragingly. “You don’t care for diamonds?”

      “I don’t care to have the Townsends’ soon-to-be ancestral betrothal ring chosen by you two gentlemen. If that were to be the case, you shouldn’t have brought me here.”

      He leaned closer, to whisper his next words in her ear. “And what fun would that have been?”

      She bit her lip so that she wouldn’t smile. He was going to give her her head, let her do what she wanted, even if it meant she was about to embarrass him all hollow.

      But she had an idea, and he’d given it to her.

      She walked along the counter in grand imitation of her sister at her most imperious, pointing a finger at first one velvet-lined drawer, and then the next. “No, not this one, take that one away, no, no, definitely not the diamonds. That one,” she declared, stopping in front of the drawer of emerald rings.

      Emerald. Like his eyes.

      This drawer had been her destination from the moment the assortment had been placed on the cabinet, a decision solidified when he’d looked into her eyes and he’d seen a twinkle of her own mischief there.

      Birdwell motioned for the other drawers to be removed and the clerks hustled forward to do his bidding. That left the single drawer in front of Dany, and she hopped up onto the stool once more and began examining its contents, row by row.

      The settings and stones all looked so impressive, and so very heavy. Why, Mari very nearly had to have a maid walk beside her, holding up her hand, when she wore the Cockermouth ancestral ring. Dany had supposed the first Cockermouth bride had been nearly Amazonian, and the countesses that followed had all been saddled with the thing, like it or not. Mari swore she adored it, but Mari wouldn’t tell the truth about something like that if someone held a knife to her.

      The Townsend brides would not be burdened with anything so monstrously large, or so garish. She slipped off her gloves, more than ready to try on dozens of rings, just because she could.

      But that turned out not to be necessary.

      “That one,” she declared, pointing to a large but otherwise unadorned rectangular-shaped stone held in place by thin prongs, the gold band itself fairly wide, flat and completely plain. Simple. Elegant. And not likely to bankrupt his lordship.

      “Yours is a lady of taste, my lord. This stone has just recently arrived from Columbia, home of the most exquisite emeralds in the world.” If Birdwell had wings, he probably would have lifted completely off the floor. As it was, he seemed to grow about two inches as he reached for the ring.

      But Dany was faster. She snatched it up and slid it onto her finger, where it fit as if fashioned for her. And yes, the stone was a perfect match for Coop’s eyes, at least when her behavior elicited any sort of emotion from him, be it amusement, frustration or downright anger.

      “My lord,” Birdwell all but bleated, keeping one eye on Dany’s hand, as if she was about to make the ring disappear. “You understand that the emerald was only inserted into that setting to, well, to display the stone. That’s not a complete ring. You’ll wish now to choose a setting worthy of the stone. May I suggest diamonds? A veritable cushion of them, wrought into rosebuds on either side of the stone, raising it a full half inch above a heavily engraved band. I have just such a setting.”

      “Absolutely not. That will just muck it up,” Dany said, closing her fist. The ring was going nowhere!

      Coop took her hand, and she unclenched her fist. “Are you sure, Miss Foster? It’s beautiful, no doubt, but it is rather plain.”

      “I’m being considerate. It’s probably the least expensive stone in the drawer,” she whispered as Birdwell flew off, probably to bring them the setting he favored. “Besides, you said I could choose, and I do like it.” She looked up into his eyes, but couldn’t read them. “Please?”

      He bent and kissed her knuckle, just below the ring. “And there it stays until the day you take it off, mostly probably to fling it in my face.”

      With that, he turned to the approaching Birdwell and said, “Miss Foster and I have decided. The ring goes with us today.”

      It was only then, watching the proprietor’s face as various emotions flitted across it, that Dany realized that the man was caught between elation and his reputation, should anyone know the unadorned, rather outré ring had come from his shop.

      Apparently elation won the battle, and he ordered the man mountain to take the drawer away as if its inferior contents offended him.

      She looked down at the stone once more. It was large. It was deeply green, and very likely without flaw. Birdwell had said he’d only put the gem into the plain setting in order to display it. So it wasn’t the ring that could cost the earth, but this single, solitary stone itself.

      Oh, dear.

      “Um,” Dany whispered, tugging on Coop’s sleeve. “You might want to ask him the cost. I may have...misjudged.”

      “Just now figured that out, did you?” Coop whispered back. “But don’t worry. My crafty mother already arranged for a discount, so you’ve probably only halfway bankrupted me.” He grinned at her. “And as that same mother used to warn me, you may want to close your mouth now before a fly wanders into it.”

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

      DANY WAS STILL sunk in a sulk as she and Coop walked along the Bond Street flagway. What a mess she’d made, believing herself to be so brilliant.

      But she did love the ring.

      Not that it was hers, not really.

      Although it could be.

      But only because Cooper Townsend was a gentleman, and a man of his word. A hero, who insisted he was not a hero.

      Not that she’d hold him to their supposed compromise and proposal. They would find the blackmailer. Coop would give him a good thrashing and suggest an ocean voyage, perhaps to India. She’d worry that another man might eliminate the blackmailer in a more permanent way, but not Coop. Still, the man would get the message! They would retrieve and then promptly burn Mari’s letters; the damning chapbook would never be published; and Coop’s secrets would remain safe and his head continue to ride secure on his neck, the Prince Regent or whomever never the wiser that some deep dark secret was nearly spilled all over London.

      And then it would be over. Coop would go his way, and she would go hers.

      Maybe they could remain friends...

      Suddenly she wasn’t walking anymore, because Coop had halted, nearly pulling her to a stop when she continued on, not noticing.

      “Whoa,” he teased. “Are you ready?”

      She looked up at Coop, realizing she’d been concentrating her gaze on the flagway and the tips of her shoes each time she took a step, just as if fascinated by the sheer action of locomotion. How far had they walked? A block? Six? Were they even still on Bond Street?

      “Uh, um, where are we?”

      “I’m standing a short distance from Mrs. Yothers’s dress shop. I don’t know where you are, although I will say you’ve been the object of some curiosity from passersby, as you so neatly cut everyone dead while I was apologetically tipping to my hat to all and sundry.”

      Dany looked to her left and right, feeling her cheeks flushing. “I was...woolgathering?”

      “Circling the moon might be more to the point. Not that I’m complaining. I find I like a peaceful woman.”

      “Then you’ll have to look elsewhere, my lord,” she shot back, still angry with herself, “for I’m feeling far from peaceful. It’s