“I like the sound of your voice,” she said simply, though it wasn’t quite as deep or resonant as Elliott’s. In fact, his voice wouldn’t wrap around her in the darkness the way Elliott’s could, but that brought her back to her nighttime fantasy and not to the daytime mission.
She shut her mind to daydreams and focused on the here and now. They greeted several people of the ton all decked out in colors bright enough to please Amber. The words they shared were unimportant because half were trite and the other half, spiteful. Best to smile prettily and look at the birds. Or mentally criticize the jewelry. That was always fun.
They’d been in the park for twenty minutes when Mr. Jupp leaned down and spoke low into her ear. “I am so sorry for how they are all staring at you. I cannot imagine what Rodney was thinking, mistaking you for that Thisbe girl. He’s generally a good fellow, you know, or at least he was in school. But he’s soured lately, and I am sorry he was such an idiot last night.”
Amber didn’t plan her next words, but once spoken, she didn’t regret them. “He might be an idiot, Mr. Jupp, but he wasn’t wrong.”
He didn’t react at first. He was too busy smiling at a passing couple. But eventually, his step hitched, and he stared down at her. “What did you say?”
She smiled at a group of five who were taking a nearby path, then spoke in a low voice. “Perhaps we could return to the carriage. I would like to show you something.”
He stared at her for a moment longer and then nodded. It took another fifteen minutes to saunter back to the edge of the park, but the carriage was nowhere in sight. Just as well. She steered them past the fashionable lanes and hailed a hackney. He went along without complaint or question, and she wondered if that was also a clue as to her future. Would he always be this docile? There were advantages to an easy-going husband, but it might be exhausting being the one in sole charge of their affairs.
He finally spoke when they were in the dark carriage. His voice was low and angry. “You are Thisbe from the Lyon’s Den?”
“Yes.” She would not begin a marriage with a lie, though she was very aware that this could be the end of her marriage hopes.
“What do you do there?” His voice was harsh. “And how did you get into society?” The second question sounded more like curiosity than anger. She knew the first question was his real focus.
“I am not one of the upstairs ladies like you imagine. Indeed, I am not employed by the Lyon’s Den at all. I work with my father, Mr. Gold.”
“And what do you do for him?”
Now came the harder part, though she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because it was easy to give the name of the Lyon’s Den and be rejected. It was harder to confess she crafted jewelry and have him despise it.
“My art is not one of sketching, Mr. Jupp. I make jewelry. I learned it at my grandfather’s knee when his hands began to shake. And then I surpassed him in skill.”
His brows rose. “Really? That is quite a claim from a woman.”
“Nevertheless, it is true.” She hated that most people did not think women could do much more than cook and sew. Shoes and jewelry were made by men. Bookkeeping and the management of businesses were done by men. And, of course, medicine and the running of the country, all handled by men. Unless it wasn’t. Elizabeth I ruled England for seventy years. Amber loved thinking of that great woman.
Meanwhile, Mr. Jupp was not convinced. “I know nothing of jewelry making, but I would assume it’s a taxing craft. The shaping of metal would require strength.”
“My father handles most of the metalwork. I design the pieces and sculpt the wax.” She pulled out the lion hairpiece and handed it to him. “I made that. And I have made many more besides.”
He gave the piece a cursory inspection. He was not a man who noticed jewelry, and so, he had no understanding of the excellence he held. She didn’t explain. He wouldn’t understand the finer points of the task. She sat in silence while he turned the lion over and over in his hand. When they arrived at the Lyon’s Den, she took him to the door of her father’s shop and showed him inside.
Her father looked up with shock but quickly recovered. “Fine lady, good sir, how may I help—”
“This is Mr. Christopher Jupp, Papa,” she interrupted. “If he asks you for my hand in marriage, I should like you to accept.”
Both men stared at her. Neither had expected her to be so blunt. But after only a few days of living in society, she was tired of verbal games. She wanted the truth spoken clearly for all to understand. At least among the three of them.
Her father recovered first. He straightened, put on a broad smile, and began speaking to Mr. Jupp as he would any customer. Except, this time, he was selling his daughter.
Amber listened for a few minutes but couldn’t stand it for long. Blocking out her father’s pitch, she shrugged off her wrap and went into the back workroom. There, she began to sculpt another firebird.
And she purposely lost herself in the work.
She came back to the present hours later when the firebird was complete. This one was a bracelet with flames to wrap around a lady’s wrist and wings that swept up her forearm. It was very good, but not great, and she prepared to destroy it as she did all her firebirds.
“Don’t,” her father said as he caught her hand. “Let me make this one as a wedding gift to you.”
It took her a moment to separate from her art to his words. But when she did, her eyes widened in shock. “A wedding gift? He will propose?”
Her father beamed at her. “He has asked permission to pay his addresses to you, and we discussed a wedding in a month’s time.”
“A month!” So soon?
“It will be a quiet one in the country. Your grandpapa and I will be able to come, but no one else. Your association with us will have to be kept a secret.”
“I do not want to keep you a secret!” she snapped. It was a hot statement, but inside, she knew the wisdom of it. Mr. Jupp was not so high up in society that he could marry a tradeswoman without damage. And she would not marry him if her children would be shunned by his family and friends. That would defeat the purpose of marrying into a title.
“It is for the best,” her father said. “And he saw the wisdom in allowing you to sculpt for us.” Her father grinned. “I believe he was surprised by our prices.”
Amber sighed. “You exaggerated them.”
“No, I did not.” He came forward and wrapped her in his arms while pride rang in his words. “My daughter will be a fine lady. My grandson will have a title.”
His grandson would become a baron one day, and that was something they could both celebrate. The child would have land and status. He would never have to run from his homeland like a beggar or a thief. This was her father’s dream come true, if not exactly hers, and she should be thrilled.
Instead, she pressed a kiss to her father’s cheek and headed to the door. She needed to get back to Diana’s home before… She frowned. What were the plans for tonight? It didn’t matter. There would be more from now on. If she married Mr. Jupp, she would attend balls, the theater, and even musical evenings for the rest of her life.
And even better, Mr. Jupp wore colors. She would never have to look at unrelieved black again except on the priest in church. Odd how the thought made her more depressed than when she’d been locked in the cage upstairs with no end in sight.