to stand before the window while the dealer, with trembling hands, opened the bag.
Dougless moved to the counter. “Well?” she whispered. “What did you see when you examined him?”
The dealer glanced nervously at Nicholas’s back, then leaned toward Dougless to whisper, “His armor is silver—remarkably pure—and it’s etched with gold. Those emeralds on his sword are worth a fortune, as are the rubies and diamonds on his fingers.” He glanced at her. “Whoever made his costume spent a great deal. Oh, my,” he said, holding up a coin. “Here it is.”
“A queen in a ship?”
“Just so,” he said, holding the coin in a caressing way. “I can find a buyer, but it will take a few days.” His voice was like that of a lover.
Dougless took the coin out of his hand, and slipped it and all but one of the others back into the bag. Before these were sold, she wanted to do a little research and compare prices. “You said you’d give me five hundred pounds for that one.”
“And the others?” the dealer asked, his voice almost begging.
“I’ll . . . I mean, we will think about it.”
Sighing, the man went to the back of the store, then returned a few moments later and counted out five hundred pounds’ worth of the large, pretty English money.
“I’ll be here if you should change your mind,” the dealer called as Nicholas and Dougless left the shop.
On the street, Dougless handed Nicholas the bag of coins plus the modern bills. “I sold one coin for five hundred pounds, but the rest of them are worth a fortune. In fact, it seems that everything you’re wearing is worth a king’s ransom.”
“I am an earl, not a king,” Nicholas said, puzzled as he looked at the paper money with interest.
She peered closely at his armor. “Is that really silver, and is the yellow metal actually gold?”
“I am not a pauper, madam.”
“It wouldn’t seem so.” She stepped back from him. “I guess I better go now.” Suddenly, she realized that she had wasted most of the day with this man, yet she still had no money nor any place to go. And there was no one in England she could call to get the immediate help she needed. Robert and his daughter had checked out of one hotel and had canceled the next one. Dougless grimaced. No doubt dear little Gloria had balked at staying at another historic hotel and spending the day looking at castles and other educational sights.
“You will help me choose?” the man said at the end of what she realized had been a rather long speech.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
The man seemed to be trying to say something that was very difficult for him. He swallowed as though his own words were poison. “You will help me choose clothes and find lodging for the night? I will pay you for your services.”
It took Dougless a moment to understand what he meant. “Are you offering me a job?”
“Employment, yes.”
“I don’t need a job; I just need . . .” Trailing off, she turned away and blinked back tears. Her tear ducts seemed to be attached to Niagara Falls.
“Money?” he offered.
She sniffed. “No. Yes. I guess I do need money, but I also need to find Robert and explain.” He thinks I hit his daughter, she thought. No wonder he’s furious. But how does someone say, “Your daughter is a liar,” in a nice way?
“I will pay you money if you will help me,” the man said.
Dougless turned to look at him. There was something in his eyes, something lost and lonely that made her sway a little toward him. No! she told herself. You cannot hook up with a man who you are dead certain is crazy. There is absolutely no doubt with this one. He’s undoubtedly rich, but he is insane. He’s probably a rich eccentric who had his costume made by some medieval historian and he now wears it as he goes from village to village hitting on lone females.
But then there were his eyes. What if he had lost his memory?
And, besides, what were her alternatives? She could
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