“I have one, you know.”
Jenna took her hand back, needing more self-discipline than force to retrieve it. “No, I counted. I had ten to show to Mr. Schott and I had ten when I picked them up from the ground.”
Adam reached into his pocket, where the peculiar penny still remained, despite his tripping and travails. He held it out.
“Why, it is exactly like my coins! Where did you get it, and what is its history and its worth?”
“As to its original denomination or its present value, I have no idea. That is why I was going to consult with the antiquarian.” Adam did not wish to admit he was going to sell the coin for whatever he could get, even if he had to melt it down for its metals. He had no reason to advertise his poverty beyond the condition of his clothes.
“But where did it come from?”
So he told her about the little old man in the coach, and his claim that the penny might bring Adam good luck. He laughed at the nonsense, but there he was, inches away from the loveliest woman in his experience. He took the coin back with far more respect than he had shown it before.
“Do you think he was Irish? They are a superstitious lot, I understand. Or perhaps a mystic from the East? A well-traveled Gypsy?”
Adam shook his head. “He might have been a leprechaun himself, for all I know, or a heathen witch doctor. He did appear to be a proper Englishman, although an ancient one. Perhaps he was Merlin, come back from his cave to grant a boon.”
Jenna smiled at that. “But isn’t it amazing, do you not think, that we each possess the same oddity?”
“Amazing,” he agreed, staring into the dancing brilliance of her green eyes.
Jenna blushed, and her maid coughed again.
Brought back to the matter at hand—and how did Sir Adam come to possess her hand again?—Jenna said, “Yes, well, I am afraid we shall have to wait to ask Mr. Schott. The physician recommended bed rest for at least a week. Oh, and that reminds me. He bade me offer you this.” She claimed her hand again and reached across a scarred desk for an ermine muff that matched her mantle’s lining. From the inside she pulled another leather pouch, which jingled pleasantly, to Adam’s ears.
More money! Adam felt almost rich, but he did not want Miss Relaford to think that the coins might make the least difference in his life. Certainly not that it affected how many meals he ate a day! Why, her bonnet likely cost more than his new funds added together. So he told her, “I cannot accept Mr. Schott’s largesse. I did nothing, truly.”
“You definitely kept the scoundrel from making off with a fortune in snuffboxes, and who knows what he might have done without your presence, with just an old man and two women in the shop? You deserve the reward. Furthermore, you must accept it or Mr. Schott’s feelings will be hurt. You can always give it to charity.”
Adam gave a rueful laugh. “Oh, I think I can find a worthy use for his coins, never fear.”
Despite not understanding the joke, Jenna smiled back. “Yes, well, then I had better be going, and let you proceed about your business.”
“You had not ought to have come to such a place at all. But thank you.” There was nothing more he could say, no reason to keep her here, the devil take it. Adam tucked the money away while Miss Relaford pulled up the hood of her cape. She would be leaving, out of his life as quickly as she’d entered it, but not out of his thoughts, he feared, forever. “I wish . . .”
“Yes?”
No. It was impossible. How could he see her again when he was due back in Suffolk or when he was as out of place in her world as she would be milking his dairy cows? But how could he stop himself from wishing?
He might have said it aloud if she had not spoken first: “Perhaps, if your business is not too pressing, you would come to tea this afternoon? I am certain my uncle would also like to thank you for your efforts on my behalf. Three of the clock, at Half Moon Street?”
Adam decided he would walk to the full moon itself for the chance to spend more time in the company of Miss Jenna Relaford. He nodded. The pounding in his head turned to chimes of joy.
4
How peculiar, Adam thought, once he had left Bow Street. Ever since he had been given the odd little coin, strange things had occurred, illogical, improbable, and incomprehensible things. Like now, when he had wished for another opportunity to see Miss Relaford, and an opportunity instantly arose. Adam had never truly believed in the efficacy of prayer, although he never mentioned such to the vicar, attending services nearly every Sunday. He had never believed in the magic of wishes come true, either, whether wishes on stars, in wishing wells, or in Christmas puddings. For that matter, he had never believed much in luck, although he had cursed the Fates for his misfortunes often enough. Was that the same?