Sapphire

Blake stood by the glass doors, still in his coat, feeling out of place, even in his own bedchamber. He had felt out of sorts ever since Sapphire had gone missing—out of place in his own house, in his own office, even in his own skin.

“It’s complicated.”

“It always is.” Manford crossed the bedchamber and pushed a crystal tumbler half full of scotch into his hand. As he did so, their fingers brushed. “You’re ice-cold,” he remarked. “How long have you been standing out there?”

“Not long.” Blake lifted the glass to his lips and drank deeply.

“So tell me about her.” Manford walked toward the bedchamber door. “I’m going to order us both some supper because I, for one, am famished. Then I want you to tell me everything.”

Blake stared into his glass, swirling the amber liquid. “I don’t know that I can.”

28

Lucia entered her apartments to find Angelique sitting on a chair in the parlor and staring out the window to the busy street below. “This is a surprise,” Lucia said with a smile, placing several brown-paper-wrapped parcels on the floor beside the door. “Is Avena here?” She didn’t hear the maid’s footsteps, even as she closed the door. Usually Avena was more than efficient when it came to her duties.

“I told her she could take the afternoon off. Wedding preparations.” Angelique rolled her eyes.

Lucia plucked off her yellow gloves and removed her bonnet. “I’m happy for her. She and her tailor make a handsome couple. I knew he was worth hanging on to when he told her he wasn’t interested in her past.” She walked to the window and leaned over to place a kiss on Angelique’s cheek. “So to what honor do I owe this occasion? It’s been ages since you’ve come to visit. It seems that Jessup and I only see you at social events.”

Angelique turned to look out the window again, propping her chin on the heel of her hand as she leaned on the broad windowsill. “I can’t believe we’ve been in London almost a whole year. It seems as if we only left Martinique a few weeks ago.” Her tone was uncharacteristically pensive.

“You sound like an old woman.” Lucia chuckled. “Usually girls of your age think a year is a lifetime.” Lucia glanced out the window to see carriages passing, venders selling fresh eggs and gingerbread, men and women hurrying up and down the street, carrying their wares; it was the first warm day of spring and it seemed as if all of London was coming out to greet her. She looked back to Angelique and smoothed her dark hair, which was looped with ribbons in tiny, whimsical braids. “You’re in a particularly contemplative mood today, ma fille. Is there anything wrong?”

Angelique sighed, still staring out the window through the diamond-cut panes. “Do you really think Sapphire is all right? I’ve been worried about her since her last letter. I really thought she would stay with that American, marry him and have babies.”

Lucia took the chair across from Angelique. “I think she’s fine.”

“She’s being very secretive. All we know is that she’s somewhere in New York and that she’s no longer with Blake. It’s just not like her to be so reticent. She must know we would worry, and it isn’t in her nature to prolong it.”

Lucia shrugged. “Obviously things didn’t work out between her and Lord Wessex the way she had hoped. I suspect she simply needed the winter to be alone, to lick her wounds and get back on her feet.”

“But it’s April! It’s no longer winter.”

Angelique turned to look at her, and Lucia realized that her charge was beyond simple worry—she was truly concerned, which again was uncharacteristic of Lucia’s little carefree vagabond.

“What if she’s penniless and has no way to return to London?” Angelique continued. “What will become of her? Will she be forced to turn to her mother’s trade simply to buy bread? I think we should write to Mr. Thixton and find out where she’s gone in New York.”

“You can’t do that,” Lucia said sharply.

“And why can’t I? Someone’s got to do something.” Angelique rested her hands on her hips. “You’re so busy acting ridiculous with Mr. Stowe that you’ve completely abandoned your responsibilities as Sapphire’s guardian!” Angelique gasped as the last words slipped out and covered her mouth in horror at having said such a thing. She looked away, tears welling in her eyes.

Lucia took Angelique’s hands in hers. “Look at me,” she said softly, not a fleck of anger in her voice.

Angelique slowly turned from the window to meet Lucia’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have said such a terrible thing. I didn’t mean it. I truly didn’t.”

“I know you didn’t. You’re afraid for Sapphire, and that’s all right because I’m afraid for her, too.”

“You are?” Angelique sniffed.

“Of course I am.” Lucia patted Angelique’s hand. “But if a parent, a guardian, a godmother, reacted every time he or she was fearful for a child, well…well, we wouldn’t get much accomplished in this world because we’d all be running about fretting, twisting our hands and pulling at our hair, wouldn’t we.” She paused, giving Angelique a moment. “Now listen to me. You cannot write to Lord Wessex in Boston and you know it. When Sapphire wrote to us, she passed on her trust and we cannot betray that trust. Now, she said in her letters that she’s fine and that we’ll see her by summer’s end. S

he said we have to have faith in her—and we have to do just that.”

Angelique glanced down at the floor and then up at Lucia again. “Henry and I, we’re thinking of going to America.”

“How exciting!”

“To look for her.”