Once Upon A Diamond (A sweet Regency Historical Romance)

by Teresa McCarthy

  Edward glared back. “What a dandy reason. You want her. So when is this glorious event going to take place?”

  “A few minutes. As soon as the vicar arrives. I received special permission to have the wedding here.”

  Edward slapped the sofa with his fist. “Oh, ho! A few minutes? Special permission indeed. You must have talked to the Archbishop himself!”

  Tristan ignored his brother’s outburst. “After we’re married, I’d rather you didn’t say a word to anyone, not even Mother. My future wife can handle only so much.”

  “I should say so," Edward shot back. “You better hope Mother decides to stay in her room or she’ll box your ears for leaving her out of this.”

  Tristan shrugged. Right now, all that mattered was Kate.

  Kate dressed in her white gown, sweeping her hair into a crown of curls, anything to make Matthew happy, she told herself. She even went as far as to splash a bit of lavender behind her ears. She gazed out the window onto the busy London street and caught sight of the vicar walking toward the townhouse. How kind of the man to come and offer prayers for her brother.

  She glanced at Matthew. Twinkling blue eyes met hers and she smiled back, believing his cheery disposition was worth all the trouble of wearing her fancy gown in the middle of the afternoon. He seemed to be improving.

  “Do you mind if the vicar comes up for a few minutes?” she asked.

  Matthew glanced at Kate with an admiration that made her heart swell with love. He drank a bit of water for her, then tried to speak. “Kate, marry Tristan.”

  Kate broke into a tremulous smile. Of all the insane things to say. “Perhaps someday. But I don’t know.” She held his hand, wiping his face with the wet rag. He was still hot.

  “Let me give you some laudanum. It will ease the pain.”

  Matthew vehemently shook his head. “No.”

  She stared back in amazement. “Very well."

  The door creaked open, and she turned her head to see Tristan.

  Her gaze narrowed as she appraised his black silk coat and matching breeches. He held a bouquet of roses. She let out a giggle as she sprung from her seat, fighting the overwhelming need to be close to him.

  “Did my brother ask you to dress up as well? He does have a sense of humor, even when he’s ill.” But Tristan’s cool green eyes made her stiffen in alarm. He walked toward her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulders as he handed her the flowers.

  “What?” she asked anxiously, twisting toward Matthew who exchanged glances with her and then Tristan. A sick sensation gripped the pit of her stomach. “What are you two up to?”

  She smacked her lips in fear, feeling the bile rise to her throat.

  “Kate, your brother wants us to get married.”

  Kate’s body tingled from his touch. “Is that all?” She stared at the beautiful roses and sighed in relief. “Thank you for these. But you must know that Matthew can be pushy at times. It must be his fever. But I believe he is improving.”

  “Kate, Matthew insisted on us marrying today.”

  “Today?” The reality of the situation slapped her in the face. She shot Tristan a hostile glare. “That’s…that’s insane!”

  “It was Matthew’s wish to see you married to me, here in my bedchambers. He promised your father. If he died before you married, he will not have done his duty.”

  If he died before you married.

  Kate dropped into the chair beside Matthew. No, Matthew could not die. But what if he did? Would he die in peace? She looked at her brother who had conveniently closed his eyes. Her heart sank like a stone in water. Tristan didn’t love her.

  “Matthew,” she implored.

  He finally opened his blue eyes and acknowledged Tristan’s words with a simple nod.

  Kate slumped. She could not believe what Matthew was doing. So this was the reason he wanted her to dress in her fancy gown. For her wedding day. But he wasn’t her father. She didn’t have to obey him. But how could she say no to him while he lay dying on Tristan’s bed?

  Silence filled the room.

  Kate realized she would not be able to live with herself if Matthew died unhappy. She stroked her palms along the arms of her chair and worried her bottom lip.

  “Very well, Matthew, if this is what you wish.”

  She raised an icy glare toward Tristan who could have told her of his intentions last night after he had spoken with her brother. How pitiful. Tristan felt guilty about the entire incident. He had even brought her roses! And though he had asked her to marry him before, now, with that blasted honor, he felt he must marry her.

  She turned toward Edward as he entered the room followed by the vicar. Tristan called the housekeeper Mrs. O’Hara to act as another witness, conveying to her that she must keep the wedding a secret.

  Kate’s eyes blurred as the vicar rushed through the wedding ceremony. When it was over, Mrs. O’Hara offered her felicitations and retreated from the room. The vicar did likewise and departed. It all seemed like a dream.

  Edward kissed her on the cheek and shook his brother’s hand. “I hope you two will be very happy.” Giving Matthew a pitied look, Edward walked out, closing the door behind him.

  Kate blinked. Her body was numb. Her soul ached for Tristan’s love. She had married the man she loved, but he didn’t love her. She had done something she vowed she would never do. Oh, he wanted her as a wife. He was fulfilling one of his many quests, and she happened to be one of them.

  Now, all he had to do was find that diamond and his life would be complete. But not hers.

  She vaguely heard Tristan say something. He pressed a chaste kiss upon her forehead and departed.

  Kate pressed her hand over her wedding dress and stared at the roses resting on the side table. Her throat grew thick with emotion. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she lifted her gaze to the door where her husband had just departed. A heaviness centered in her chest making it hard to breathe. He didn’t love her.

  No matter how much she fought the pain, hot, stinging tears slowly made their way down her cheeks.

  Cringing with guilt, Tristan sought out Kate during the middle of the night. As he’d assumed, she had fallen asleep in the chair beside her brother. Moonlight streamed through the windows shining against her wedding gown that she still wore. The upper part of her body was sprawled on the bed as she held tight to Matthew’s hand.

  His wife. His blood stirred at the thought.

  He had hoped to have supper with her, but his meeting in Whitehall had been urgent. Things had gone from bad to worse.

  A letter demanding money for the return of the diamond had been delivered to Headquarters that very afternoon. England was being blackmailed. But the British government wasn’t about to pay a single guinea to any enemy of the Crown. But something had to be done.

  There was to be another letter, listing the time and place for the exchange. Everyone’s thoughts were focused on Napoleon sympathizers. But Lord Douberry and Gaston were still suspects as were a few other gentlemen of the ton. Nothing was certain.

  Kate let out a small sigh just as Tristan moved to gather her into his arms. His heart ached for her. But he was aware she might never forgive him for the wedding ceremony.

  How had his life become so complicated?

  His heart pounded in his ears as he strode into her room and stripped her to her chemise. Her body was soft and white, a delicate balance of vulnerability and spirit.

  He swallowed tightly and tucked her into bed, kissing her forehead. When would she be his? “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

  He closed the door behind him and strode to Matthew’s bedside to keep vigil. Perhaps this man would live.

  In the morning, Tristan wasn’t at all surprised to find himself slouched in the wing chair again. He stretched his aching legs across the end of Matthew’s bed and slowly turned his head to the footsteps clapping down the hall.

  It was the maid entering with the breakfast tray. “Anything else, your lordship?”r />
  Tristan glanced to the adjoining bedchambers and guessed that Kate would sleep all morning. “Keep Miss Wilcox’s breakfast for her downstairs. She can ring for it later.”

  “Very well, my lord.” The maid left, closing the door behind her.

  Tristan pondered the words, Miss Wilcox. Kate was no longer Miss Wilcox, she was a countess now - the Countess of Lancewood. Lady Lancewood. He hoped to keep the wedding quiet until Matthew’s situation passed on, one way or another. At the moment, they didn’t need any more excitement.

  Tristan slowly buttered his bread while the aroma of freshly brewed tea enveloped him. Would Kate ever forgive him?

  “Eating breakfast without offering me some, eh?”

  Tristan’s mouth hung open in shock. His hand shook as he held his teacup and focused on the sick man in front of him.

  Sick?

  Matthew’s eyes twinkled with life. Though the man’s face was still pale and dark circles shadowed his eyes, Tristan would wager he was no longer on his deathbed.

  Matthew groaned when he tried to move.

  Tristan pushed another pillow behind his head. “Better?”

  Matthew lifted an amused brow. “Better?” he said in a hoarse voice, “these linens are soaked. Must have sweated out that dreadful fever, you know.”

  Tristan was rendered speechless.

  “Don’t be a codfish, my lord. Close your mouth and send for some fresh linens.”

  “Confound it, Matthew,” Tristan sputtered. “You, sir, are supposed to be dead, or at least dying.”

  Tristan let out a wry grin, spilling the hot tea on his lap and jumping from his seat. “Hell and spitfire! I’ll be in a mess of trouble if you don’t. You do remember that you attended my illustrious wedding yesterday?”

  “Feel like hell actually.” Matthew winced, trying to change position. “But decided it was better to stay with my sister since she has such a tyrant for a husband now.”

  Tristan burst out laughing. “You old devil! Or should I say mule. You’re as stubborn as your little sister.”

  Matthew looked serious, his lips pinched. “How is she?”

  Tristan frowned. Sweat formed along Matthew’s brow and his upper lip. The man wasn’t as well as he wanted Tristan to think.

  “Still sleeping. She’s been with you almost every minute, not having left these two rooms for the entire time you’ve been dying.”

  Matthew closed his eyes and drew in a long shuddering breath. He was obviously still exhausted. “Strange way to spend a wedding night. But I shall mend, and you may have your privacy again,” he glanced up, “and your bed. Now, what say you to some food other than that nasty broth my sister’s been shoving down my poor throat?”

  Tristan smiled. “Your sister and that broth probably saved your hide, you ungrateful wretch.”

  Kate awoke from her nightmare, holding back a sob. Blackness had swirled about her, choking her. It reminded her of when she was a small child hiding from her father. Being stuck in that clothes trunk all night in the shipyard had been horrible. It took her father until morning to find her. The darkness had been suffocating and this dream had been just as bad.

  In her nightmare, Tristan was calling to her, shouting for her, but she couldn’t get to him. She was scraping and clawing, screaming his name over and over, but he couldn’t hear her. Then to her horror, he stopped calling. She had no one then. She was all alone.

  Alone. Panic swept through Kate as she stumbled out of bed and pulled open the drapes. She hated the dark. And the nightmares.

  Her gaze dropped to her chemise. How had she gotten to bed? Had Tristan undressed her? A blush stole across her cheeks at the thought of his gentle hands removing her gown. Of course, it must have been him. He was her husband now, wasn’t he? He must have taken over her watch of Matthew during the middle of the night and carried her to bed.

  But he didn’t seem to want her now. Oh, no, not now. She was his duty now. His duty, just like the diamond, she thought grimly.

  She shuddered at the chilling memories of her hasty wedding. How could she have been manipulated so? The thought of being married to him didn’t bother her as much as the thought of him not loving her.

  She peeked out the door and saw Tristan’s large form slouched in the wing chair beside Matthew. Her breath caught when she saw Matthew turn. Yes. He was still alive. Tears flooded her eyes. What a morbid thing to have to watch one’s brother die.

  Frowning, she closed the door and rang for the maid.

  She dressed in a pale blue muslin gown and perched herself in front of her looking glass. The maid fashioned her hair into a loose topknot with dangling curls framing her face.

  When the servant departed, Kate rose and heard low voices conversing in the next room. It had to be the doctor returning to examine Matthew. But it didn’t sound like him.

  She opened the door slowly and was about to announce her arrival when she heard a familiar laugh. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she staggered back. Matthew?

  Matthew!

  Why, he was too ill to laugh!

  “I fear my sister won’t take kindly to my speedy recovery,” he said. There was a pause. “Not after what we put her through.”

  Kate balled her hands against her skirt. Her head pounded in rage as she distinctly recalled everything about the previous day, especially her wedding!

  If Matthew was better, then there had been no reason for her to have been forced into a quick marriage with Tristan. Her brother may not be one hundred percent better, but the rat was laughing. Not heartily, but laughing all the same.

  She silently stomped her foot and raised her fist, stuffing it into her mouth, trying not to scream in anger. But soon, her fists softened along with her heart, knowing that Matthew was back to his chipper self. Nevertheless, those two gentlemen were still in trouble. Gritting her teeth, she soldiered back into an eavesdropping position.

  “Though you have passed through the fever, Matthew, your body’s still weak. I suggest you sleep a bit more after we fetch you some fresh linens.”

  “I do feel tired.” Matthew heaved an exhausted sigh. “Hell, that wedding took everything out of me.”

  Kate’s eyes widened in disbelief. Hell is what he put her through!

  “Tristan?”

  “Yes?”

  Kate inched herself closer, wanting to hear every infuriating word. She would like to boil them in oil!

  “Remember yesterday?” Matthew asked, his voice raw, but perfectly sane.

  “How could I forget?” Tristan replied in an amusing tone.

  Kate opened the door a little wider.

  “I admit I knew I was going to live,” Matthew said, taking a glass of water Tristan offered. “When I asked you to obtain the license, I probably could have stood up from this confounded bed. Well, let’s not go so far as to say that, but I was feeling a tad better.” He let out another ragged laugh.

  Kate gasped. The wretch! The cad! The abominable knave! She heard Tristan’s unmistakable laugh, and her fury increased.

  “Hold it down,” Tristan pleaded in a whisper. “Kate might wake, and then she’ll have both our hides if she hears us. Though I have to admit, you had me believing your death all the way up to the vicar’s appearance. Your color looked better and so did the light in your eyes.”

  Kate silently opened the door another two inches to see Tristan burying his head in his hands with undisclosed laughter.

  “Since you’re family now,” Matthew quipped, his expression quite alive for a man who was supposed to be on his deathbed, “just thought you should know the truth.”

  Tristan shook his head. “If Kate finds out about this, she’ll have our heads, just like my brother threatened she would. Being an earl affords me the pleasure of many silver platters. I certainly don’t wish to catch a glimpse of my reflection on one.”

  Matthew gripped his stomach, half groaning, half chuckling. “Stop. Simply can’t take much more...You’re killing me.”

 
; Tristan slapped his knee. “Come to think of it, that would solve both of our problems.”

  Matthew’s lips trembled with amusement as he turned his head into his pillow.

  Kate’s blood pounded in her veins. Oh! Those two could hardly contain themselves. And neither could she. She was more furious than she had ever been in her life.

  Overwhelmed with rage, she whipped opened the door and burst into the bedchamber. Her piercing gaze burned into the two amused gentlemen. They abruptly stopped laughing. Tristan blinked repeatedly as Matthew sunk further into the covers.

  “Of all the unmitigated, conceited, abominable gall! You insufferable swine! I cannot believe what I just heard!”

  Tristan froze.

  “You conniving, despicable scoundrels!” She marched toward the bed and grabbed the water pitcher from the nightstand. Tristan hadn’t a chance. She hurled the liquid across the bed, hitting Tristan’s face dead center, then crashed the beautiful crimson and white flowered container to the ground.

  Tristan shook his soaked head, whipping strands of black hair out of his stunned face. Like a naughty puppy, all that could be seen of Matthew, were two blue eyes peeking out from beneath the bed covers.

  Kate took another moment and glared at the dazed men. Then, as if a gigantic wind blew in, she swirled around and stomped back to her room, slamming the door behind her.

  The men heard the key click in the lock and looked at one another with questioning eyes as what to do next. Tristan peered over the bed at the pitcher scattered about the floor. He pushed away from the chair, tugged at his clothes and stripped to the waist.

  “That sister of yours does have a temper. Though I must say, she was rather becoming in her outrageous mood.”

  “My sister,” Matthew said calmly. “Your wife, you mean. But Shakespeare’s play the other day fits her very well, don’t you think?”

  A frown played about Tristan’s lips. “Not something to jest about. Dash it all. She’s beside herself.” He brushed his fingers through his damp hair. “I best change into some dry clothes.”