Page 18 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

“Tell me,” he said.

She needed little prompting. “We wandered for hours. First to the Indian Court and then to see the exhibits from Turkey and China. My brother insisted on examining everything. We were like two children. It was all…” She searched for the right words. “Oh, I can’t describe it. It was all so marvelous. There was an elephant with grass in his trunk. And an Indian tent filled with rugs of crimson and gold. And then we filed along in a line of a hundred other people to see the largest diamond in the whole world.”

“The Koh-i-Noor.”

She looked up at him. “Have you seen it, Mr. Thornhill?”

“Justin,” he corrected. “And yes. I have. I visited the Crystal Palace that summer as well.”

Admission had been only a shilling, which had seemed to him a small price to pay to admire exhibits from all over the world. He remembered having spent a great deal of time in the machinery courts looking at the Harrison Power Loom and the cotton machinery of Hibbert, Platt, and Sons. However, no visit to the Crystal Palace would have been complete without a viewing of its most famous exhibit.

“When I saw it,” Helena said, “it was inside a gilded birdcage, illuminated by a ring of little gas jets. People were complaining it didn’t sparkle.”

“They were doing the same when I saw it.” He gave her a wry smile. “Perhaps we were there at the same time?”

She seemed much struck by this idea. “Perhaps we were. Perhaps we were fated to meet again.”

“Do you believe in fate?”

“I don’t know.” Her lashes lowered. “I would like to believe in it.”

“It’s certainly a more romantic explanation for all of this than your having answered my matrimonial advertisement.”

He hadn’t said it to embarrass her, but judging by the color that rose in her face, it seemed he’d done so. He cursed himself for an insensitive brute. It was too soon to have mentioned romance in any case. Though why the devil he was mentioning it at all, he hadn’t the faintest idea. The whole purpose of a matrimonial advertisement was to meet and marry without the burden of wooing and courtship. That shouldn’t change simply because the woman who’d answered his advertisement was sweet and soft and pretty.

“Do you believe romance is necessary in an arrangement such as ours?” she asked.

“Necessary? No. I would say not.” He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “Then again, I’m no expert.”

Helena bent her head, the brim of her bonnet briefly shielding her face from his view. “What about friendship?”

He thought he detected a note of hopefulness in her voice, but couldn’t be certain. “Ah. Friendship, I suspect, is a different matter.”

“Then you think it necessary?”

“Not necessary, no, but without some degree of friendship, marriage wouldn’t be very comfortable, would it?”

“No, I suppose not,” she said. “And yet many gentlemen believe their wives are not their friends, but their inferiors. They treat them as children.”

“They want to protect them.”

She folded her arms at her waist. “I would that women could protect themselves.”

“As do I. But that’s not the world we live in.” Justin would have said more on the subject, but as they walked closer along the water’s edge, his attention was caught by a glint of glass sparkling in the wet sand. He bent to pick it up.

Helena approached, curious. “What is it?”

He gave the glass a quick polish on the sleeve of his frock coat. It shone a gleaming amber. “Sea glass,” he said as he stood. “Here. Open you hand.” When she obliged him, he placed the glass in the center of her palm. “This looks to be from a broken bottle. Probably French brandy smuggled in during the war with Napoleon.”

She traced the rounded edge of the glass with one gloved fingertip. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Like a jewel.”

He dusted the sand from his hands. “Not quite the Koh-i-Noor diamond, I’m afraid.”

“No, it isn’t,” she acknowledged, still staring at the piece of sea glass in her hand. “But it’s the loveliest thing anyone—” She broke off with a visible loss of composure.

He took an instinctive step toward her. “Helena,” he said, his voice rough with concern.

She raised her eyes to meet his. “How silly I am. I do beg your pardon.”