“I am far too large, my lady, and yet you are stuck with me.” The clerk in the shop raised her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. The clerk had introduced herself as Mrs. Harcourt, and judging by her placid demeanor, she was accustomed to seeing gentlemen purchasing jewels for ladies.

“You are not ostentatious and blindingly sparkling,” she pointed out as the clerk withdrew the ring, laying it on the counter.

It was an enormous ruby, square-cut, surrounded by a ring of multicolored stones in a thick gold setting. It was, in Della’s opinion, remarkably vulgar in its opulence, but she had to admit it drew the eye.

“I strongly disagree, my lady. I plan on being both ostentatious and blindingly sparkling this evening, when we attend that party.”

“You will not,” Della said firmly. “The point is for you to be accepted into Society, not to antagonize it. Even though you’re insisting you bring me along, which will already be an impediment.”

“Ah, but that is the whole fun of it.” He winked at her. “Why should I compromise who I am? Who you are? Just so we can move through Society?”

“Don’t be surprised when they turn their backs on you,” she muttered.

He took her arm and turned her to face him. His gaze was intense, focused on her face. She inhaled at how fierce he looked. And how fierce he sounded when he spoke. “They will not. I understand these people. They pretend to be scandalized when someone in their world steps out of line, but they adore it when that someone does it with confidence. That is all you need, my lady. Confidence. We will succeed in our own storming of this castle, and we won’t have to pretend to be anyone but ourselves.”

Listening to him, seeing the look in his eyes, Della could almost believe it would be as easy as he said. Even though she knew that her situation—being a ruined woman—was far different from his. Not only that, but she’d be returning on the arm of a gentleman who would otherwise be fair game for single young ladies, so she would be despised even more.

It would not be enjoyable, not at all. But it was what he was demanding as the price to his helping her find Mr. Wattings, and she would face much worse than Society’s disapproval if there was a chance she could help Sarah achieve some level of peace.

“Try it on,” he urged. She picked the ring up and slid it on her finger. She stared down at it, at how the stone glinted in the light. It looked less terrible on her hand than it had in the case, and she could almost admit he was right in choosing this one. It said that there was no embarrassment to this engagement, that both the giver and wearer were proud to be open about their relationship.