Page 7 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
“Of course,” she told him once he’d released her. Though a man of her brother’s reputation urging anyone to be cautious felt slightly absurd.
“And you too.” She glanced at her sister. “Both of you. Be safe.”
“I think we can handle the wilds of Norfolk,” Eve said with her usual confidence.
Like their mother, Eve was gentle natured and even-tempered. Allie often wished she could be more coolheaded herself.
Impulsive.That was the condemnation thrown at her by Dom more often than any other.
She did believe in rushing in if the situation called for it. Wouldn’t anyone?
They were off on an expedition to find an Anglo-Saxon hoard. A few documents they’d acquired from a deceased duke’s estate indicated there might be one present in a coastal section of Norfolk. Eve had been doing her own research for years on a potential hoard in Yorkshire, though Dom doubted they’d find much there.
Their parents had thrived on travel and the allure of digs too. Allie was far more interested in historical documents than jewels or coins. Still, she could understand the appeal of taking a brush and trowel, digging into the soil, and coming up with something of historic merit. Every single piece that came through their shop held value because it told a story of the past. That was an aspect of running the shop that she did love. Passion for history was her birthright every bit as much as Princes of London.
Eve stepped close and bent to whisper to Allie. “Your time will come. I promise.”
It was a painfully familiar sentiment.One day, she had been told, she’d be able to accompany Papa too. She never had, but she’d collected a lifetime of memories like this one—saying goodbye and being left behind.
Eve wrapped her in a long, warm hug and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “We shouldn’t be away any longer than a fortnight.”
The hired coach to carry them to St. Pancras already waited outside, and it took them only minutes to secure their traveling cases and start on their way.
Allie stood on the pavement, waving until they were out of sight. She swallowed against a lump in her throat. She’d done this so many times, and yet watching them depart without her always carried a sting.
Perhaps she could propose her own expedition, not to seek treasure, but to further her research on lady pirates. She stood pondering that possibility until the autumn breeze kicked a few leaves her way, then she went inside.
Back in the shop, she finished off the usual tasks to be accomplished before opening. The shop cat, Grendel, watched her with unusual interest.
“Nothing to worry about, Gren.” It was as if the feline could sense her disappointment. “I know I’ll have my turn one day.My time to shine, as Papa used to say.”
She placed the final pieces in the main glass case, a parure of large, glittering diamonds and emeralds nestled on a platform of black velvet—the most expensive gems in the shop—with care. Allie could admire the beauty of such pieces, but they never struck her imagination the way the eighteenth-century flintlock pistol in a nearby case did. Lady pirates Anne Bonny and Mary Read might have used such a pistol themselves.
A door opened in the back room, and Allie smiled.
Mr. Gibson was their resident jeweler and repairman—his passion was horology and clock repair, but the man could fix almost anything presented to him, and he cut and set jewels to perfection. He was also an antiquarian with a breadth of knowledge of history and antiques that rivaled their father’s. The two had been friends, and Alister Gibson had insisted on staying on after their father’s death, despite Dom’s urging that the man should take a well-deserved retirement.
“All on your own, are you, Miss Prince?”
“Now that you’re here, I’m not.” Allie greeted the older man with a smile.
He normally remained in his workshop, restoring recent acquisitions or setting gems, but his presence still made Allie feel less alone while her siblings were off on expeditions.
“I think coffee and scones are in order. What do you say?”
Under his silver mustache, his mouth twitched as if he might grin. “Cannot ever turn down a cup of that brew from next door, can I?”
None of them could. Princes had been blessed with the serendipity of having a coffeehouse snugged up next door. The scents that wafted over drove them all to pleasant distraction most days, and Hawlston’s coffee and baked goods were every bit as delicious as they smelled.
“Back in a jiffy,” Allie called while bundling into her coat.
She glanced up at the wall of clocks in the shop. Just enough time to collect coffee and treats before her friend Jo arrived for their usual Wednesday morning chat. They’d taken to meeting an hour before the shop opened to discuss books and catch up beyond the watchful gaze of Lady Wellingdon, Jo’s mother.
The coffeehouse was buzzing, but Mrs. Cline, who ran the front of the cafe, smiled when she spotted Allie crossing the threshold.
Allie raised three fingers and mouthed, “Lavender scones.”
The dark-haired lady manager nodded and tipped her chin toward the seating nook where Allie was allowed to wait for her order. It was just inside the kitchen, a little carved-out space big enough for a single chair. Customers weren’t generally allowed in the kitchen, but since the Princes were neighbors and patronized the shop daily, Mrs. Cline made the exception.
