Valentine's Vow (Avenging Lords 3)

Miss Kendall’s eyes widened. “So, just like that, you decide to be helpful. What part of his lordship’s argument did you find most persuasive? The fact he is a gentleman or the fact he is a member of the aristocracy?”

This time, Valentine placed his hand on her arm. “I suggest we give the fellow a chance to observe the entries before he changes his mind.”

Miss Kendall looked at his hand, then at the broker who had opened his tome. She nodded, turned away and walked over to the window. Wrapping her arms tightly across her chest, she stared out at the fog-drenched street. With her slender fingers encased in blue kid-gloves, she rubbed her upper arms in comforting strokes while she waited.

The cold chill of loneliness filled the room.

It breezed over the random curiosities strewn about the floor—portraits of people long since departed, a viola with a broken string, a leather valise embossed with someone’s faded initials.

The fresh crispness in the air came to settle around Valentine’s shoulders, a reminder that a part of him was numb inside, was just as cold and lonely. Disappointment cut deep when delivered by the hands of a loved one.

Needing to draw comfort, too, Valentine imagined coming up behind her, pulling her close to his chest, letting his mouth come to rest on the perfect skin at her throat. She would turn to him, twine her arms around his neck, kiss him so deeply the ice around his heart would melt and trickle away.

That was the way with fantasies. They were perfect. Devoid of pain and problems.

“Here it is.” The broker’s voice disturbed Valentine’s reverie. “I took the ring, along with two silk waistcoats, a silver letter opener and snuff box.”

Miss Kendall gasped as she hurried to the counter. She gripped the edge of the wooden surface. “Did my brother deposit anything else? A watch? A diamond and onyx signet ring?” She paused and gulped. “A rare pink diamond ring?”

The broker shook his head. “That’s the lot. Come back with the papers and—”

“Can I see the ring?” Hope swam in Miss Kendall’s bewitching brown eyes.

Valentine would have offered her the world rather than see the look of longing fade.

“Wait a moment.” The broker scurried off through the door to the left of the counter. Keys rattled. Another door opened, the loud clunk upon closing indicating a heavier metal door.

A tense silence hung in the air while they awaited the broker’s return.

“You’re certain it is the ring I mentioned?” Miss Kendall’s hungry

eyes observed the broker keenly as he returned to the room. She stared at the red velvet pouch in his hand. “I shall know the moment I see the markings.”

“Don’t ask me what it says.” The broker handed Miss Kendall the pouch.

Trembling fingers made it impossible for her to remove her gloves.

“Permit me.” Valentine took the pouch, tugged at the strings and removed the shiny gold ring with Greek engraving around the hexagonal head.

Miss Kendall froze for a few seconds. “That is my father’s ring,” she said, gazing in awe. “I wish to repay any money advanced to my brother and reclaim this item.”

The broker offered a weak smile. “I paid the gent twenty-three pounds and four shillings for all items deposited, but without the receipt, you’ll need to pay the purchase price.”

Miss Kendall frowned. “I have no need for silk waistcoats. How much do you require for the ring?”

“Forty pounds for all items deposited,” the broker said in a monotone voice.

“Forty pounds!” Muttering to herself, she reached into her reticule while Valentine placed the ring back inside the velvet pouch. “I have thirty.” Miss Kendall slapped the folded notes onto the counter. “And you may keep the apparel and silverware.”

The broker flashed his crooked teeth. “I’ll need forty for the trouble.”

Valentine reached into his pocket, withdrew a note and placed it on top of Miss Kendall’s pile. “That makes fifty. I think you’ll agree it is more than ample for a gold ring engraved in Greek as opposed to Latin.”

With an eager hand, the broker snatched the notes across the counter and checked their value. “A pleasure doing business,” he said, clutching his bounty and scurrying off to his back room.

Left alone in the musty old shop, Valentine offered Miss Kendall the ring. “Allow me to escort you back to Park Street, Miss Kendall.” His thoughts flew to the scoundrel waiting out on the street. “As a man preoccupied with chivalry, I must insist.”

Miss Kendall smiled. “You may escort me home, my lord, as I must repay your twenty pounds as a matter of urgency. Hold on to the ring until I am back on familiar territory.”