Radiance (Diamonds of the First Water #3)

Prologue

London, 1852

R adiance Diamond lowered her favorite pen with its lunar-shaped steel nib, setting it beside the recessed inkwell that she’d already filled in preparation for the lecture. The afternoon’s lecturer had just entered through the door at the right front of the main theater in the Royal Polytechnic Institution on Regent Street. And the sight of him was enough to halt her squiggling with pretty, albeit expensive, blue ink while the rest of the audience were still taking their seats.

Radiance’s attention was riveted. Although she’d attended a variety of lectures all across London, both interesting and dull, she’d never set eyes upon the geologist, Mr. Edward Lockwood, before.

Her breath caught. Now, she never wanted to take her gaze from him.

What a rum duke! All broad shoulders and thick, unruly brown hair. Tall but not gangly. Attractive eyes that, from a distance, appeared to be an unusual shade of golden-brown.

Sighing, she sat up straighter, coughed slightly to gain his attention, and waited for him to notice her.

As expected, his head turned in her direction. Most men, at this point, saw her bright red hair, a natural inheritance from her mother, Carolyn, the Countess Diamond, and their interest piqued. Not that everyone liked red hair, but everyone usually noticed it.

Usually, some reaction would follow, especially when she wore it partly up and partly down in the current fashion. Curled, but not too tightly, to drape across one shoulder.

Some lively lady had named these soft curls as “follow-me boys.” A delicious description since she and all her friends liked nothing so much as being followed by eager, attentive gentlemen.

To her astonishment, Mr. Lockwood, reportedly an advisor to the Queen and Prince Albert regarding gemstones, barely acknowledged her, if he did at all. His glance went over her and on to the next person and then the one beside him. No raised brow, no smile, not even a sneer of derision to indicate he was one of those who didn’t care for coppery curls.

The gall! She would not cough again. If he didn’t have the sense to see a female of her quality, so be it. Still, when this man of science began his discourse, a captivating lecture, she was entranced. And if she missed a few words here and there because she was watching his attractive mouth, or if her thoughts strayed to the fantasy of dancing with him, no one could blame her.

At the lecture’s end, the entire audience broke into an enthusiastic round of applause, slightly muffled by all the men’s and women’s gloves. Radiance assumed now he would look at her. After all, he’d had over an hour to notice her in the third row, directly centered in front of him.

Again, she was disappointed by how he attended to the gems he’d used as examples. Carefully, he put his collection back in their velvet pouches and wooden cases.

Not looking up at anyone, barely acknowledging the appreciation of his listeners, Mr. Lockwood paid all his attention to his exhibits. By the time he was finished, most of the people around Radiance had risen and left. She hadn’t meant to stay but had been mesmerized by his movements, the way his hair fell over his forehead while he looked down, the way his hands were quick and sure.

Finally, he glanced up and met her gaze. Her heartbeat quickened. Then he gave the briefest nod, collected his specimen cases, and walked out.

Edward dropped his coat on the bench in his front hall, assuming his housekeeper would retrieve it and tidy it away as she tidied up every other aspect of his life, from newspapers left on his sofa to cat fur on his counterpane. The mess was there one minute and, thanks to Mrs. McSabby, gone the next.

He headed directly along the passageway to what should be a dining room, which he used as his workroom. Nearly dinnertime, the fading rays of light came in through the windows that went almost up to the crown molding. They were the reason he used that room.

Those fingers of light played across the large table where he placed his specimen containers and his sheaf of notes.

“Rather a successful afternoon,” he said to Monty, his gray striped cat, lying atop the table, catching the last sunbeams. It stretched out a paw, patting one of the wooden boxes.

If Edward opened the lid, the cat would undoubtedly exert himself enough to knock a gemstone out of one of the trays and send it skittering to the floor.

But Edward didn’t intend to sort through the specimens or put them away in the drawers of his gem cabinet. He still had work to do, a professional courtesy for the Queen’s Crown Jeweler. Sebastian Garrard had asked him to examine a rare blue tiger’s eye for its cleavage traits. The Queen wished to turn it into a ring for Prince Albert, but Garrard was uncertain of its stability.

As Edward drew up a chair and donned his magnifying spectacles, a sudden flash of fiery-red hair and a pert, confident smile flitted across his thoughts.

He frowned at the memory of the minx from the auditorium. Why would he think of her? True, she was lovely, but he doubted she’d been there to learn. Many people went to his lectures hoping he would bring out samples of rare jewels, which he often did, or gaudy jewelry, which he never would.

She probably had a penchant for sparkling baubles and was in possession of less brains than Monty, although her green eyes were a more vivid hue.

“Can you believe she had brighter eyes than you?” he asked his cat, who yawned broadly.

Then Edward banished the chit from his mind, pushed the magnifiers up the bridge of his nose, and got to work.