Alexander, heir to the Everly earldom, has just discovered he’s color blind. The malady explains why he didn’t do well in his natural science classes at Cambridge. What’s worse is it impairs his ability to choose gemstones for the jewelry he creates. If only he had a second pair of eyes that could correctly identify colors. The beguiling gray eyes—or are those green?— belonging to the daughter of a renown jeweler are only a temporary fix. He’s too young to marry, and besides, who wants a man who can’t see colors correctly?
Margaret spends her days assisting her father in the creation of jewelry for the wealthy. Her knowledge of gemstones is gleaned from years of watching him work and dealing with gem merchants. Although she’s old enough to be out in Society, embarrassment over her withered arm keeps her in the shop. What’s she to do when her latest client insists she attend a ball? He can secure an invitation and has promised her two dances, but is it worth being subjected to the censure and gossip her arm is sure to elicit? Or the wrath of the gem merchant to whom her father owes so much? His proposal might solve the debt issue, but at what price to her?
Meanwhile, their impending wedding anniversary has Alexander’s parents reacting in much different ways. Middle age has Harold remembering his youth and fearing his mortality while Stella isn’t ready to succumb to the preconceived notions of what it is to be a matron with grown children. Their solution may require they meet in the middle—of a bed.
Genre: FICTION / Romance / Historical / VictorianBook 5 in The Heirs of the Aristocracy series, 4.6 average rating, 57 ratings
Margaret was about to head back to her office when the shop’s front door once again opened, the gold bell above it tinkling softly.
At first in silhouette—the late morning sun brightened the street in front of the shop—the handsome young man came into focus as his gaze swept the interior, finally falling onto Margaret. He removed his top hat and tucked it under one arm.
“Good morning, sir,” she said, quite sure she recognized him. From where, though, she couldn’t exactly say. “May I be of assistance?”
“Good morning,” he replied, his attention briefly going to Adam, who was still behind his work counter at the back of the small shop.
Impeccably dressed in a long topcoat of navy superfine, a conservative brocade waistcoat, and light pantaloons, he could have been any one of a hundred gentlemen in London. His darker complexion, nearly black hair, and brown eyes set him apart, though, as did his square jaw, full lips, and high cheek bones. As a living, breathing man, he personified a Greek god. Had he lived two thousand years ago, he would have been worshipped as a god. Had he been carved from a block of marble, he would have been on display for all mere mortals to admire—especially those of the female persuasion.
As Margaret was doing that very moment, now quite sure she knew where she had seen him.
“Did you escape your exhibit pedestal in the British Museum, sir?” she asked in a whisper of awe.
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Portuguese
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Tânia Nezio
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