“I suppose it’s safer,” he finally said, though the idea of her locked every night behind bars horrified him. “But surely, you did not think to work tonight.”
She stiffened. “I surely did. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you are to stay with my sister. I thought you liked her. I thought you’d want to.”
“I do!” Her hands twisted in her lap. “I definitely do, but…” She exhaled slowly. “This is all so sudden. I don’t know what my grandfather will do without me.”
He looked at her. “You can’t be absent for one night? Your grandfather must have done the work alone at some point.”
“Two nights,” she corrected primly. “And… of course, he can. My father helped when I was younger or sick.”
“Then there is nothing to prevent you from taking a couple nights with my sister, yes?”
“Yes,” she said slowly, a low tension in her voice. And when she didn’t continue, he pressed her.
“Why do you sound so glum?”
“I…I don’t know,” she answered with a frustrated harrumph. “I am being illogical. I was just thinking how much I wished to stay with Diana, and now that I might, I am angry with you.”
“With me?” he said, the words startled out of him. “Whatever have I done?” Except get her an invitation to a ball and set her up for a lovely holiday with his sister.
She turned to face him on the bench. “You have completely upset my days.”
He snorted. “You are a creature of habit, then.”
“Absolutely not! I despise habit, routine, and the hideous sameness of my days.”
There was such vehemence in her tone that she confused him even more. “Then why are you angry at me?”
She folded her arms and twisted back to stare out over the horses’ heads. Her words came out low and grumpy. “I told you I was being illogical.”
Yes, she had. And wasn’t that a surprise? Not that a woman could be irrational. His mother, for example, seemed to take pride in twisting things around until black became white and up became down. But Amber was not only aware of her strange thoughts but admitted to them. That was a rarity, even among elite men. And so, he found himself admiring her, even as he poked at her.
“Can you not try to use a little reason?” He kept his tone light because he was teasing her. And thankfully, she did not take offense.
“I am angry,” she finally said, “because, after two lovely days, I shall be returned to my cage, and everything will feel so much worse.”
“You will have some delightful memories, I hope.”
“I will,” she said wistfully. “I only wish…”
“That your life could always be parties and fashion discussions over tea?”
“Yes,” she said, the glumness returning to her voice.
For a few moments, he thought on the difficulties of her life. Every night she sat in a cage and assessed jewelry sold to her family by dissolute men of the worst sort. By day, she fashioned jewelry, likely in another back room. She had little company, few diversions, if any, and probably saw the best years of her life slipping away.
“Is there some way that you have fun? Perhaps a young man who brings you posies and sweetmeats?” The idea didn’t sit well with him, but that was his lust speaking. She was a desirable woman, so naturally, he wanted her for himself. “Perhaps one of those large men who were threatening me earlier today.”
“There is a man,” she said softly. “A prince who dances divinely. He brings me flowers and writes poetry. He dresses in bright colors and laughs like a violin played very fast.” She turned to him, and she seemed to be looking at his face as she spoke, comparing him feature to feature with this prince. “His nose is strong and his jaw hard, and his eyes sparkle like emeralds in the sun.” Her gaze traveled away from him now to the sky as the sun set with brilliant colors. “He’ll be a great leader someday, but for now, he spends his time studying the great thinkers of the world.” She shot him a wry look. “And writing me poetry, of course. Truthfully, he’s not that good at it, but I love every word.”
“And does he sing arias to you as well?” There was a sourness in his tone that he didn’t like, but he couldn’t stop.
“Oh, naturally,” she said. “And at that, he’s very good.”
He didn’t respond at first. Simply sat there and guided the horses while, inside, he was envisioning her stretched out on a bed while this paragon read poetry to her. Later, he would set the book aside and stroke her body with a leisurely caress. The bastard had clear intent, but she was too innocent to know and too enraptured by his words to notice when his hand traveled to indecent places.
“Who is this prince?” he demanded gruffly. “Where is his kingdom? Have I met him?” He expected that she would say the nearby bakery or tinker stall, maybe a haberdashery. Didn’t they all style themselves as kings of their respective trades? He did not expect her sudden peal of laughter.
“He’s not real, you goose! I made him up years ago when I started working every night in the cage. It can get boring in there, and so when I tire of sketching, I look out at the men on the floor and imagine them better. Smarter, sweeter, and more interested in me than in the dice or cards.” She snorted. “That last part is the most important.”
It would have to be. And didn’t he feel stupid for feeling jealous of an imaginary man? “A prince, you say. Why not a king?”
“Because they are busy ruling their kingdom. A prince has time to play.”
“Of course.” He relaxed into the game now that he knew none of it was real. “And is this a prince of England? Or of some other clime?”
“Most times, it’s here. I have spent nearly all my life in London, and so why not become Queen of England? Other times he is from a very warm, sunny place with bright flowers and fruits that can be plucked from trees that grow everywhere.”
“You are imagining Spain or Italy, then. Africa is too hot and the colonies too far away.”
“Oh no,” she said. “I have read of islands in the middle of the ocean with turtles and huge birds.”
He nodded. “The Galapagos, then.” The British navy had discovered it some thirty years ago. “James Colnett was a friend of my father. He is the one who drew the navigation charts. Every night, I would pester him until he told me about the giant turtles or the birds with blue feet.”
“Birds with blue feet? Truly?”
“Like a seagull only much smaller. White neck and face, black wings, and bright blue, webbed feet.”
She sighed. “How I wish I could see that.” Then she smiled. “It’s decided. My prince is definitely from Galapagos. After we’re wed, I shall lay every day in the sunshine and watch the blue-footed birds. And then at night, I will go into the shop and fashion their likeness in silver and gold. Sapphires for their feet, diamonds for their eyes, and black onyx for the wings.”
He turned to her, surprised. “You shall work even when you’re a queen?”
“Fashioning jewelry is not work, my lord. It is the happiest part of my day.” She glanced at him. “Save talking fashion over tea and attending a ball.”