Page 89 of A Modest Independence

For the next half hour or more, Jenny stood at one of the tall counters as the proprietor, Mr. Chowdhury, showed her glass bangles, gold and silver bangles, and bangles set with precious gemstones. Tom stayed at her side awhile before wandering off to speak with the shop assistant. When he was out of earshot, Jenny bent her head closer to Mr. Chowdhury. “Do you have anything a gentleman might wear?”

Another half hour and she and Tom were back on the street, her purchases tucked securely into her reticule. She’d never spent so much money in one place in her entire life. It wasn’t going to bankrupt her. Not by any means. Still…

“You’ve gone pale,” Tom said, searching her face. “Is it the heat?”

“It’s not the heat.” She gave him a weak smile. “I bought a jeweled bangle. It was terribly expensive.”

“Ah.”

“Would you like to see it?”

His hand came to rest on the small of her back, guiding her along the pavement. “Not on the street. You can show me in the gharry.”

“Did you find anything you liked?”

“In the jeweler’s shop? I’m afraid not. However, the shop assistant did give me the name of a cobbler at the end of the street. Claims he makes better boots than Hoby.”

“Do you need new boots?”

“I don’t need anything.”

“I see. Just gathering information, were you?”

He smiled. “About boots, Jenny?”

“Who knows when such knowledge might be valuable?”

Tom endured her teasing with good grace even as he hailed a gharry to take them back to Mr. Vidyasagar’s hotel. It was a sagging contraption with windows curtained against the heat. Tom helped her into it before climbing in himself and shutting the door.

Jenny settled back on the shabbily cushioned seat as the gharry sprung into motion. An oil lamp swung from the corner of the cab, casting an intermittent light over Tom’s face.

She opened her reticule and withdrew a small wooden box, extending it to him in her suddenly trembling hand.

He took it, still half smiling from all of her teasing. “The jeweled bangle, I presume.”

She watched with growing anxiety as he opened it.

Tom went still.

“It’s a pin,” she said. “For your cravat.”

He continued to look at it, his face wiped of all expression.

“I know it’s not proper to be giving gifts to a gentleman, but I thought…that is…I wanted you to have something special to remember all of this by.” She was rambling and couldn’t seem to stop herself. “It’s quite understated. Nothing too gaudy. And look…” She rummaged in her reticule, pulling out the second box and removing the wooden lid. “Mr. Chowdhury said it was made from a chip of the same sapphire used to make my bangle.”

Tom looked at her bangle and then back at his pin before, finally, lifting his gaze to her face. “Jenny…”

“Do you hate it? Is it too awfully sentimental? You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. I promise it won’t hurt my feelings.”

“I don’t hate it,” he said, his voice gone gruff.

“Don’t you?”

“No, I…” He swallowed hard. “I shall treasure it.”

Jenny’s heart swelled with warmth—and no little relief. “You were so quiet. I was afraid I’d presumed too much.”

“You surprised me, that’s all.”