Once Upon A Diamond (A sweet Regency Historical Romance)

by Teresa McCarthy

  No, she hadn’t accepted her father’s death. One year to face the grim facts about her father’s disappearance! Matthew had known how stubborn she could be, so he had offered the compromise. She had agreed. Now, she wondered if that had been a good idea at all.

  She was having a difficult time as it was, especially when Matthew tried to ignore his own feelings. He hadn’t shed a tear in front of her, but two days after he had told her about their father, she’d heard him sobbing behind the closed doors of the study. Matthew never cried. Pain for her brother had cracked her heart in two. Though he was strong and capable, he would never admit his vulnerability. She would take care of him though. She would not let him carry the burden of their father’s death alone. Oh, Papa. What are we going to do without you?

  Her head suddenly snapped back when Matthew spoke.

  “London?” she asked with a sense of alarm.

  “Yes, London.” Her brother cleared his throat and looked away. “I’ve, uh, added it to our voyage. Father and I decided a long time ago that it would be best for you to travel to England and stay with Aunt Georgiana and Uncle Phillip for a spell. Only a short time, mind you. The country air shall give you time to recuperate and set your mind at ease.”

  An angry tremor worked its way to her lips. “And I have nothing to say about this?”

  “It will be for only a short time.”

  Short time? Her stomach curled into a cold, hard ball. Any time in England would be too long. Her fear of the dark was nothing compared to facing that person again.

  Matthew shrugged. “This is as good a time as any.”

  She chewed her bottom lip as thoughts ran through her head. She couldn’t use her father’s death as an excuse to stay in Boston because she had forced the issue of waiting a year to formally mourn. And her brother certainly wouldn’t like her saying she needed to stay because he needed her! So, she told him the truth. “I simply can’t go to London. Ever.”

  But she had not told Matthew why. No, she could never tell him why.

  Yet Matthew ignored her words of protest. “As niece to a duke and duchess, you shall be treated like a queen. Ridgewater Manor should be lovely this time of year.”

  Lovely? This was intolerable. “If it’s up to you, next thing I know, I’ll be married to some stranger.” He raised a blond brow as if to say anything was possible. She pursed her lips.

  “I’m only following Father’s wishes,” he countered. “I’ll make the decisions as I see fit.”

  Grasping the arms of her chair, she dismissed the delicate thread of warning in his voice. “Fit? What kind of consolation is that? I am not ready to go to London now.”

  “Oh, you will go. Make no mistake about that.”

  “How could you do this to me? Especially after yesterday when you decided to play matchmaker like some old woman! If Papa does not return, I will have to marry as soon as you find the best man for the position? Good gracious, that edict of yours was ludicrous, but sending me to London is insufferable! You are becoming somewhat of a dictator, and I don’t like it!”

  “Oh, you will go to England! And I will find a husband for you in the near future. Make no mistake about that.”

  “You’ve lost your mind!”

  Matthew’s eyes narrowed. Kate’s throat locked up. It was pointless. She knew her brother. He would not bend. She could not win this fight about going to London, at least not now. It might be best to agree to his traveling plans, if only to get him to stop thinking about a husband for her. Besides, if luck were with her, she might avoid her problem in England altogether. And maybe she could use the time to put her life back in order. “Very well. I’ll go.”

  Matthew’s jaw dropped, and he slowly fell into his chair.

  She managed a twisted smile, enjoying his confusion. She usually fought him at every turn. “You shall be my escort, of course. The Mediterranean shall have to wait.”

  He shrugged as if to recollect his thoughts and threw his booted feet over the side of the inlaid mahogany desk. “I can drop you off in London, then carry on to the Mediterranean. It will take some extra time to navigate up the Thames, but I want you safely delivered. After my business is complete, I’ll return to England to visit with you and our relatives.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “I am to make the trip to Ridgewater Manor by myself?”

  Horror blanketed Matthew’s face as he whipped his feet off the desk. “No! If you’re traveling in the country, you’ll need a proper chaperone.” He smiled as if he were the devil himself. “Even if it’s only to Ridgewater Manor. Mrs. Hollingsworth will be with you. She has relatives in England as well as France.”

  Kate’s eyes popped wide in shock. “Mrs. Hollingsworth as chaperone?”

  “Though Captain Gaston is her step-nephew, the lady has a much nicer demeanor.”

  Captain Gaston was employed by the Wilcox Shipping Line, and Kate recalled that his French mother had married Mrs. Hollingsworth’s late brother.

  “Listen here, dear brother. The captain may be a bit high-handed at times, but I like him. At least he’s sane. His aunt, on the other hand, may have a gentler side, but she’s crazy!”

  “Well, then, what’s the problem?”

  “The captain’s sane. She’s crazy! That’s the problem!”

  Matthew could hardly contain his laughter. “I admit, she is rather different.”

  “Different?” Kate snapped.

  Matthew laughed. “Ah, Kate, you can be a shrew. Even you must see how hilarious this is. Imagine Mrs. Hollingsworth and you confined in a carriage for almost an entire day.”

  Kate groaned. She was trapped. Mrs. Hollingsworth was the least of her worries. Matthew didn’t know it, but she had good reason not to venture into the heart of England again.

  That Tristan boy must have hated her for what she’d done to him ten years ago.

  Why, she had almost killed him!

  Chapter Two

  England

  Tristan sat in the library of Lancewood Hall and let the warm brandy slide down his throat as he dragged his gaze downward, studying the notes on his desk. He leaned back in his leather chair and picked up the letter he recently received from Harold Fletcher, the man who had written to him about his father’s death. After a few seconds, he dropped it onto his stack of communications and drew in a frustrated sigh.

  Tomorrow, he was to meet with Fletcher at the Hunting Fox Inn, less than half a day’s ride from Lancewood Hall. Anticipation ran through him at the very notion of finding the diamond and returning it to India. Could he finally be at the end of his search? Would his duty to his country be fulfilled? And would his father’s quest be finished?

  He would have laughed if the situation weren’t so grave. It had been years since the diamond had mysteriously disappeared from Lancewood Hall. His father had never stopped looking for it. But now, it was essential England return the gem to its native land. He grabbed the missive he had received from Foreign Office, and ran over it once again.

  London, 1st February, 1816

  My Lord,

  I am in dire need of your services once again. However, on this occasion your covert mission is of a more personal nature - your family diamond, to be precise. I realize your father has been in search of the gem for quite some time now, but regrettably, it has not been found.

  Allow me to state the facts as we know them. Intelligence has informed me the diamond your family has held in possession for generations was obtained innocently more than a century ago. Before that, the gem was illegally lifted from a sacred statue located in a small village in India. Two months ago a British soldier ran off with a girl from that village and a holy man was killed.

  If rumor is to be believed, the enemy was involved in this nefarious plan to upset British trade by framing the soldier for the holy man’s death. Tension has spread beyond the village with key trade routes already affected.

  My ambassador considers it best to return the diamond to the village. I am of the same mind that
the diamond, which the village believes sacred, holds the answer to returning peace to that area.

  I do not have to remind you that the war against Napoleon has taken a toll on this country. If trade routes are blocked, Britain will sink further into debt.

  This incident has yet to publicly penetrate English soil, but if something is not done soon, more blood will be shed. I implore you to secure this gem with the utmost haste. The country is depending on you.

  Castlereagh

  With a worried frown, Tristan set the paper aside, then gathered his notes regarding the diamond and locked them inside his desk. He had until the end of the Season, perhaps the middle of June, to find the blasted gem.

  It was March now. If the diamond didn’t reappear soon, Britain would take drastic steps to defend England’s trade, and that could mean bloodshed on both sides.

  More than once Tristan wondered if the rumors about the diamond were true. Did it carry a curse? Or was it pure greed that had driven the evil attached to it?

  When Tristan had become earl, he had hired Andrews, a retired Bow Street Runner, to help find the diamond. He had given Andrews no other reason for retrieving the gem other than it being a lost heirloom and honor demanded the gem be returned back to the family.

  “My lord. Lord Roxdon to see you."

  Tristan glanced up and smiled, recognizing the telltale sign on his butler’s face. “And?”

  “And, I daresay,” Perkins said, lowering his voice, “his lordship looks like a fat cat who recently swallowed your favorite bird, m’lord.”

  Tristan raised an amused brow. “I have no favorite bird. In fact, I have no bird at all.”

  “Precisely, m’lord. Preeecisely.”

  Tristan ran a forefinger along his jaw. “The man’s up to no good, you say?”

  The butler nodded emphatically. “Quite right, m’lord. Can see it in his eyes, I can.”

  Tristan rose to greet his good friend, grateful to tear his mind away from the diamond. It was times like these he knew why he kept Perkins, even though the man could live on a small retainer in a nearby cottage and stop working altogether.

  There was a motherly instinct in the old boy, giving Tristan a feeling that at least somebody cared about him besides Edward, added to that fact, the white-haired butler refused to leave his employ until the man stuck his spoon in the wall.

  “Well, dash it all, Perkins, show the fat cat in then. I’m ready for him."

  “Very well, m’lord. Ain’t saying I didn’t warn you though. I don’t like it by half.”

  “I appreciate your expertise in this matter and will heed your warning.”

  “Very well, m’lord. As you wish.” Perkins pressed his lips together and departed.

  Tristan swallowed a chuckle as the elderly man shuffled from the room, leaving Devin Theodore Lawrence, Marquess of Roxdon, to step into the library with eyebrows raised. “You know, Trist, I have the uncanny feeling old Perkins has it out for me."

  “Man’s protective of me,” Tristan countered, studying his childhood friend. “Need he be?”

  Devin laughed. “Hoped you would want to go for a ride. Bought two new stallions from Tattersall’s. You remember our last bet? The boxing match at Jackson’s? Well, I lost and decided not to pay you back in coin. Purchased you a horse instead, and one for me as well.”

  Tristan raised a skeptical brow. “A horse?”

  Minutes later, saddled on two magnificent black stallions, the two men headed west on Lancewood land. Tristan held tightly to the leather reins and scowled. It was apparent he had been presented with the worst tempered of the majestic animals. He glared at his friend. “I see that while you were fulfilling your debt, you took the mild-mannered one for yourself.”

  Devin cracked a smile and rode on ahead, showing off his sleek animal. “Indeed. Couldn’t let you have the best horse in the country, could I? Both are a bit wild, barely broken in. However, broken in enough for a gentleman good at the reins. But confound it, you wouldn’t want your life to be boring, would you?”

  Tristan maneuvered his black horse to a steady trot alongside Devin’s. The stallion lifted its head, challenging Tristan’s hold. He pulled one way, the horse pulled another.

  “Devil take it. I shall do more than box your ears the next time we are at Gentleman Jackson’s, and believe me, there will be no wager.”

  With an innocent shrug, Devin grinned. “Staying in London next week?"

  Tristan shot the man a hardened glare. “Do I dare tell you the truth and say yes?”

  “Splendid.” Devin sent him a wicked smile and pulled ahead of him. “I’ve already included you as an escort for my sweet little cousin this Season."

  “What?” Tristan’s shout echoed in the wind.

  He distinctly remembered that American chit every time his foot hammered with pain. She had broken a few bones and had left him bleeding through his boot.

  Devin laughed. “Thought you liked her from the very start. She’s a woman now, not a ten-year-old wild cat, you know.”

  “Exactly,” Tristan countered. “That female has ten more years on us. A baby wild cat is one thing, a full-grown feline is quite another. It seems to me any person within five feet...”

  But his words conveniently trailed off as Devin booted his heels into his stallion and sped away. Tristan followed, clenching his teeth. Suddenly aware of the lake ahead, he jerked back on his reins but his horse decided not to obey.

  It was too late for either of the men. The horses skirted the giant oaks, kicked their hind legs up, and bucked the stunned riders into the air. The jolt sent both men flying into the cold water with a splash.

  A few seconds later Tristan sprang from the lake. His blue-black hair was plastered to his head as he shot a cool stream of water from his mouth.

  A mat of brown locks surfaced behind him as Devin bobbed his head in shock. “By Jove, I do believe those wild animals knew exactly what they were doing.”

  Tristan climbed onto dry land, dripping from head to toe. “No, I do believe they went mad after you mentioned your delightful cousin.”

  Devin shook off the water and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Probably so.”

  Without giving Devin another glance, Tristan strode around the perimeter of the lake, his boots sloshing with every step as he retrieved his horse. He would have laughed at the entire situation too, but the memory of a tiny, pink ball of fluff, holding tight to the reins of Devin’s favorite horse, set his lips into a harsh line.

  The figure had flown past them like a bolt of a lightning, her innocent yellow curls bouncing playfully against her back. Oblivious to her numbed onlookers, the spoiled child had bared her bright white smile, preparing for the ride of her life.

  Innocent, my foot, thought Tristan with a grimace. She could have been killed.

  He spun around to interrogate his friend. “What the blazes do you mean, I am to help escort that chit this Season? Devin?” His voice thundered through the trees, but there was no response. Devin’s black horse had quickly disappeared from view.

  Tristan fisted his hands against his soggy breeches. Blast and double blast. He had to look for that diamond. He didn’t have time to play escort to a pampered American. And if Fletcher handed the diamond to him at the inn, Tristan had to deliver the gem to Whitehall and take his orders from there. If there was no diamond, London was still the next stop in the search.

  Thunderation. He didn’t need a spoiled brat in the middle of things. There was no telling what the female might do. From his experience, the next time he locked eyes with the little spitfire, she just might kill him after all.

  “I want him dead. That’s what I’m paying you for, ain’t it? He has an appointment at the Hunting Fox Inn tomorrow evening, something about that deuced diamond he’s been searching for.”

  The commanding voice burst forth from beneath the black hood inside the darkened carriage. Thin fingers of lamplight fanned past the closed curtains of the vehicle as the stench of the Tha
mes seeped into the air.

  A brawny man sat on the opposite seat of the coach, his beady eyes narrowing with unease. “Blimey, he’s an earl, he is! There’d be a search for me as soon as I stuck him with me knife!”

  “Listen well,” the voice snapped. “The inn is twenty miles from his home. The proprietor’s a nitwit. He’ll cater to the earl, and won’t pay no mind to you, not if you don’t make a fuss.”

  “I ain’t wanting to end up in Newgate, hanging by a rope. Me brother died like that. I ain’t planning on going the same way.”

  A hand stretched out before him. “One bag of silver now, another when the deed is done. Slip out as fast as your knife slips in.”

  When a plump satchel of coins clanked to the carriage floor, the man’s weasel-like eyes grew wide with greed. Stretching out beefy fingers, he snatched up the sack, stuffing the straggling coins back into the corded pouch.

  “Ain’t going to be fair ’bout it, ye know. He’s a strong one, he is. Heard he went ten rounds with the best at Jackson’s. Word is, those green eyes of his are as sharp as a tiger’s. Be doing it fast and quick-like.”

  “I don’t care about being deuced fair. I want him dead. Two days after the deed is done, I’ll meet you here, same time.”

  The brawny man let out a gritty smile as he opened the carriage door, his hand sliding to the blade that rested against his muscular thigh. “Ain’t his lordship going to be surprised when I be holding me knife to his throat, letting him know who done him in, eh?”

  “Won’t matter if he knows who done him in or not. He’ll be dead and that’s all I want.”

  Kate winced at the stale smell from the London docks. The trip across the ocean had been wretched. Though happy to finally be on dry land, she ached to go home.

  After leaving Boston and setting forth to England on one of the Wilcox merchant ships, she had fallen ill within the week. She had been stuck in her cabin, a prisoner of her own body, seasick at every turn, shivering and losing most of her food.