Lady Be Reckless (Duke's Daughters #2)(73)

Rings of all sorts were exhibited in the case, as were bracelets, necklaces, and tiaras.

What would it look like if she were to wear only a tiara?

He couldn’t get distracted. He was here for a ring, not for something to fuel his fantasies. Perhaps after she said yes they could go tiara shopping.

“What type of ring?” the man said, beginning to remove trays from the case and laying them on the counter.

“A betrothal ring.” Edward lowered his head to look at the rings—there were many, ranging from simple love knots to rings with a variety of stones.

He picked up one of the simplest ones; would she like this? Would it speak to her need for equality?

He put it down, picking up another in the case, this one more elaborate, with four stones placed in a line.

“That is the ADORE ring,” the man said.

“Adore?”

The man nodded. “Yes, the five stones,” he said, pointing to the ring, “each indicate a letter. So we have an amethyst, a diamond, an opal, a ruby, and an emerald. Adore.”

“Ah.” It was unfortunate that there wasn’t a ring spelling out Equality or Righteousness or even Equality for All Ducks.

But anything like that would require a special order, and he didn’t want to waste time. Plus he had to admit all his ideas sounded silly.

“I’ll take it,” he said, drawing his wallet out from his jacket.

The man nodded, writing up a receipt and placing the ring in a box.

Edward heard the door open as he was tucking the box into his pocket.

“Welcome, Mr. Wolcott,” the jeweler said, making Edward stiffen.

“Morning, Fotheringay,” a brusque voice replied. Edward turned around slowly, feeling his chest tighten as his eyes came to rest on the man who’d spoken.

An older man with curly white hair, who was tall and still fit, despite his age, a sharply inquisitive expression on his face.

He looked as Edward would look in about thirty years.

“You’re my grandfather,” Edward blurted out, almost before he knew what he was going to do.

The man merely raised an eyebrow at him, a look of haughty disdain on his face.

“You must be mistaken,” he said, but his expression flickered, as though he knew the truth but wouldn’t admit it.

“I’m not.” Edward glanced back to see the jeweler’s avidly curious face. “We could continue this conversation here, or we could step outside for a moment.”

Mr. Wolcott tilted his head to look over Edward’s shoulder, his mouth tightening as he saw the merchant. “Mmm,” he grunted, turning back around and walking out.

Edward followed, fury warring with sorrow in his chest. He hadn’t realized how much it still hurt, knowing what he did about his past. Knowing that this man had refused to support him, that he had preferred to put a child into an orphanage rather than acknowledging that his daughter had fallen in love.

“You’re Beechcroft’s son?” Mr. Wolcott said, looking him up and down. “You seem to have turned out well. Quite the gentleman.”

“No thanks to you,” Edward replied, the fury winning out over whatever sadness he held. “My father took me when you wouldn’t after my mother died. Have you never wondered about me?”

Mr. Wolcott shrugged. “I heard that you were being taken care of. I saw no need to interfere.”

His grandfather’s utter lack of interest, even now, infuriated him.

“No need to interfere?” Edward said, hearing the growl in his voice. “If it had been left to you, I would have been raised without any love, no support, nothing.” He shouldn’t have been surprised to feel himself shaking.

“You’re a bastard,” Mr. Wolcott said in a cold tone. “You have no claim on me.”

Edward felt the man’s words like a punch in the throat. And then something else eased his anger, making the clarity of the truth stand out as if it were written on his grandfather’s forehead.

“I don’t want to have a claim on you,” he said in a clear, calm voice. Even though there was a part of him that wanted to rail at the other man for denying them the opportunity to have a relationship because of the lack of a piece of paper. “But I do want you to know what you’ve missed.” It felt as though she were there, behind him, urging him on with her words and her fierce passion and her love.

“Growing up, I knew that I was different from other children. But I wondered sometimes if that was because my father loved me so much. I felt sorry for other children I met, because their fathers weren’t mine. My father is the most honorable and strong man I know, and I am the man I am today because of him. I never knew my mother, but I knew of her because my father spoke of her, told me how much she loved me.”

“You caused her death.” Mr. Wolcott spoke through a clenched jaw.

Edward shook his head slowly. “I know that her passing must have caused you great sorrow. But that is no reason to abandon a child of your blood who needed you. You are the one who has lost. I am fortunate that I have a father who cares for me and friends who appreciate who I am, not what I am. I wish you could have been the same, but I know you can’t.”

Mr. Wolcott didn’t reply, just stared at Edward, his expression set and angry. Fine. Edward didn’t feel angry toward his grandfather anymore; he knew who he was, and he knew he was loved. By his father, by Bennett, and now by her.