He didn’t have a ring. He should get a ring, to make certain she would marry him.

She’d said she would, but there was something enticing about having a physical claim on her, making sure everyone who saw her knew.

If he told her that’s why he wanted her to wear one, he knew she would upbraid him for his old-fashioned notions. Which was why he needed to make certain he bought such a lovely ring that she didn’t think too hard about it.

“Doughty?” Edward said, leaning back in his chair. The butler moved forward, inclining his head.

“What may I help you with, sir?”

Edward looked up. “Where would I buy a piece of jewelry? Is there somewhere nearby?” He’d been to the town—the one that had not wanted Olivia’s help—often enough, and he knew there wasn’t a jeweler there. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too far.

“There is one in Ackleworth, about ten miles from here.”

Ackleworth. That was where his father had first met his mother. He generally avoided going there, since his grandfather’s house was on the town’s outskirts. But if he could just go in, find the jeweler and then get right out, it would be fine. He needed a ring more than he needed to avoid a town with bad memories.

He took another sip of coffee, pleased to find it had cooled enough. Hopefully that was a sign that he would be able to wait. Wait for the coffee to cool. Buy the ring.

Marry the woman he loved. Who loved him.

Edward settled Chrysanthemum at the stables, and then walked quickly into the center of town.

It was far larger than what he was used to, at least out in the country. There were signs of bustling commerce everywhere, from pubs and inns to a milliner’s shop, a fabric store, and no fewer than three haberdasheries.

The jeweler was next to the fabric shop, one of the ones his father’s mills sold to. He was pleased to see a steady stream of customers going in and out, which he could report back to his father. The mill had been one of his father’s first successes, and Mr. Beechcroft still viewed it as one of his favorite business transactions.

Edward stepped into the jeweler’s, hoping the shop would have what he wanted—a ring that was as brilliant and sparkling as Olivia, but not too opulent. She wouldn’t want a crass display like other ladies in Society. He wasn’t certain whether or not such a ring existed, but he was going to try.

“Good morning, sir, welcome to Fotheringay’s,” an older man with grey hair said as Edward advanced. There were three sections of jewelry on display, one to either side of him and one in front. Sconces were above each, lighting the cases and making the stones within gleam.

Edward blinked against the sudden brightness, taking his hat off and walking up to the counter. “I am looking for a ring,” he said, beginning to peruse the case in front of him.

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.

He was legitimately—and he nearly chuckled aloud at the thought—rich with love.

“That is all I wanted to say to you.” Edward turned on his heel and walked to the stable, aware of the ring in his pocket and the lightness in his heart.

He was wealthy in all the things that mattered. And now he knew it and valued himself as well.