Miss Hastings' Excellent London Adventure (Brazen Brides Book 4)(17)

 

“Please,” Mr. Bridge said, “feel free to try any of these on your lovely lady.”

 

Lovely lady. No one had ever referred to her as a lovely lady before, but she was actually beginning to feel lovely, to feel as if she'd been transformed by some wizard's wand.

 

Adam took the necklace and came to place it about her slender neck. The brush of his hand as he clasped it gave her another of those chest-expanding experiences. Her breath grew short. No man had ever touched her before.

 

She had been astonished over his selection for it was the one in all the store that she thought most compatible with her plain appearance.

 

After he clasped it, he stood back and peered at her. Her breath hitched when she realized his eye skimmed her breasts—not that there was much to differentiate her from a lad. But she did possess a modest bosom, and for the first time in her life, she actually fancied the idea of a man being interested in her feminine jigglies.

 

His face lifted with pleasure. “Perfection. It’s simple and elegant, just like my dear Emma.”

 

What talents Mr. Birmingham possessed! He could rival Edmund Kean on the stage.

 

“Of course, my dearest, you will need one necklace that must be exquisite, that will proclaim you to be the grandest lady in all of London.”

 

“But . . . dearest, I am not the grandest lady in London.”

 

He merely gave her a smug smile. “Oh, but you will be.”

 

“I have just the necklace!” Mr. Bridge went to the back room and returned with a large velvet box. “While we normally create our own jewelry at Rundell & Bridge, this is a very special commission we were able to obtain from a member of the Bourbon Royal Family.”

 

Emma’s pulse rocketed. Could this actually be happening to her? Emma Hastings, an orphan from Upper Barrington?

 

As the top lifted from the purple box, Emma gasped. She had never seen anything so lovely. The necklace’s focal point was a net of diamonds which held a small but skillful “bouquet” of amethysts. Of course, it was much too grand for her.

 

“Allow me,” Adam said as he took it and draped it around Emma. She peered at herself in the looking glass and swallowed. Even if it was far too opulentacious for her, she loved it.

 

Adam nodded his approval. “Yes, Mr. Bridge, this will do very nicely.” Turning to Emma, he added, “I believe we will have to send a note around to Madame De Guerney to change the green gown to some shade of purple to wear with this. Do you agree, my dearest?”

 

This necklace with a lavender gown would be, to use Mr. Birmingham’s own word, perfection. She nodded shyly. She felt like an interloper. What had she ever done to deserve to be treated like a princess?

 

She could never repay Mr. Birmingham for his many kindnesses, but she vowed she would find a way. Even if it took the rest of her life.

 

When he came to remove it, he said, “It’s very lovely on you.”

 

“Are you sure you can afford it?” she whispered. “He didn’t mention a price.”

 

He laughed. “Yes, my darling bride-to-be.”

 

She felt like a great hoarder after all the beautiful things that had been bestowed upon her that day.

 

As they rode back to his brother's palatial house, Emma reflected on her stupendous good fortune. In the span of a single day she had gone from the depths of despair to an elation unlike anything she had ever thought attainable.

 

Though still stunned by the news of Aunt Harriett’s passing, Emma took comfort in Mr. Birmingham’s explanation. Auntie was close to ninety. She must have been waiting until she thought Emma was being taken care of. She wouldn’t have wanted Emma to be melancholy.

 

Thanks to Mr. Birmingham, her grief was being assuaged.

 

I am going to be married to the finest man in the kingdom. She was so exhilarated, she felt as if she’d just downed an entire bottle of champagne. (She only hoped her intended avoided champagne—and all other spirits. She wouldn't like him to turn into a Jeb Hickman.)

 

When the coach entered the courtyard at his brother’s house, all the lanterns glowed now that night had fallen. Once more, she became cognizant of how shabby she must appear to a couple who lived in so fine a home. They must be the toast of London. Even if the Birminghams were not possessed of pedigree.

 

He turned and took her hand. “You will love Lady Fiona. She’s one of the warmest people I’ve ever known.”

 

Lady? Had he not said his family lacked pedigree? Now she was more nervous than ever.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 6