Heart of the Diamond

by Carrie Brock

  He traced the bones of her hand gently. “So I do.”

  “And you can tell me anything—anything. I want to help.”

  Blake took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “The letters beneath told a story I could not have imagined. The pages were worn, as if my father had read them time and again.”

  Nicki waited patiently as Blake dropped into silence. His hands holding hers stilled. His fingers were like ice, so she clasped them tighter, willing her warmth to surround him, to offer some comfort as he struggled with his demons. “He must have missed her very much,” she prompted gently.

  “She left because she had been diagnosed with a disease of the lungs. My father did not go with her because they felt I should not be left alone. A nurse accompanied her as they sought the healing waters at Bath.” He smiled wistfully, lost in his mind's vision.

  “Her letters were filled with hope. She chattered on about me mostly—the plans she had and all she wanted for my future. She insisted that Father pass on every detail of our existence so that she would have some connection to us. The treatments failed and she worsened. The letters after that came from Switzerland, then Italy. My father spared no expense in searching for a cure. Her handwriting became difficult to read and eventually the letters came from the nurse. Still she asked about me. The nurse said her mind had become affected so by the illness that she could remember little, but she continued to ask about me until the very end. Two years after she left us she was gone. The final letter from the nurse said my mother had gone to sleep and never awakened. The next letter was a brief note from an Italian priest who accompanied her body to England.”

  Nicki stifled a sob as Blake once again slipped into silence. She bent her head, drawing on some strength from deep within to halt her tears before she spoke. “She acted out of love for you, Blake. You must know she believed she was protecting you.”

  “At what cost? Did they think she could disappear from my life one day and I would never notice? Did they honestly believe I would not wonder each and every day of my life what I had done to drive her away? My father should have told me. He should have told me she was dead, damn him!”

  Nicki winced as he crushed her hands in his fury, but she did not draw back. “In telling you, he would have had to face his own grief.”

  Blake's agonized gaze met hers. “I spent my life watching for her return. Every moment of my existence I tried to make up her loss to my father because it was my fault she had gone. Every rebuff from him I took without complaint because I knew I deserved it.” He paused, then ground out the words through clenched teeth. “Deserved it because it was my fault that we had lost someone so special, so perfect. My fault that we lost the only joy in our lives.”

  “But you were a little boy. How could he know how deeply you were affected by her loss?”

  Blake pulled his hands free and Nicki felt his effort to regain that control so vitally important to him. He jammed his fingers through his hair, then down to hold his neck.

  Leaning his head back, he stared at the sky. “He could have trusted me enough to ask.”

  The simple words sliced through her as his anger had not. He might have been speaking to his parents, though they were beyond the agonies and suffering of mortals. Overwhelming frustration swept over her. She believed in God, believed in his warmth and caring. She believed in angels. So why did Blake's parents not send their son some sense of the love that had prompted their actions? Obviously they had loved him. So why had they allowed him to suffer?

  Nicki listened to the wind caress the stark limbs of the tree and whisper secrets that only mystical creatures understood. She longed for wisdom beyond herself—some knowledge that would reveal the purpose behind the battles humans waged within themselves and without. With it, perhaps she could ease Blake's pain.

  Then, like magic, the answer came to her. The weight of the sudden knowledge descended upon her, weakening in its intensity. Perhaps Blake's parents had sent their son exactly what he needed. Now, when he knew the truth, he had someone who loved him to share the pain. Could she be the comfort they offered their son?

  Nicki looked at Blake and saw not only the strong, honorable man she had come to love, but also the tortured little boy who had tried so desperately to make amends for a wrong he had not committed. She also saw a resiliency in Blake. He was a survivor. In learning the truth about his parents, perhaps he had gained some understanding into human nature.

  And perhaps what lay between he and her father could be resolved after all.

  He dropped his arms, looking at her again, calmer—subdued. “Did you mean what you said?”

  “Mean what?” The cool evening breeze touched her tear wet face. She took a corner of her cloak and wiped at the moisture on her cheeks.

  “You said you loved me.”

  Nicki dropped the fabric and straightened the folds of her cloak. She looked into his eyes. “Of course I meant it. I have loved you for some time.”

  “But we have not known each other very long, contrary to the belief of our guests.”

  Nicki shook her head. “Our hearts spoke one to the other long before we met.”

  He offered a skeptical smile. “That is a romantic notion only you would contrive.”

  “Be that as it may, it is what I believe. I am proud and grateful to be the one who will be your wife.”

  A guardedness lurked at the outer edges of his newfound peace, and she knew it would take very little for him to welcome its return. “This morning you said you were having pre-nuptial jitters. Have you solved your dilemma?”

  Without hesitation, Nicki responded. “I have. I am free to go forward now. And you?”

  “I have laid my soul bare enough this night. Suffice it to say that I am honored to be the man who has won your heart. I never thought to be so lucky.”

  It is enough for now. She stood with care, and gained her footing on the limb. “Good night, then.”

  He waited for her to cross the branch to the overhang, but she had no thought of falling. At that moment she could have danced on air.

  Chapter 20

  . . .

  Nicki moved toward her father's study. Her skirts swayed softly, almost in time to the music playing in the ballroom down the hall. Simms stood guard outside the closed study door, his posture ever stiff and unyielding. She risked a glance behind her, certain she would see Blake lounging against a doorframe, watching her as he had all evening. For the moment, the way stood clear.

  She moistened her lips as she reached Simms, then paused before him. Before she could speak, he bowed in greeting. “Lady Nicki, can I be of some assistance?”

  “Oh . . . goodness,” she murmured, giving the tall man what she hoped was a sympathetic smile. “Simms, I fear your face is darker tonight than it was this morning.” Nicki put her finger to her lips and contemplated his face for a long moment. “One of the seamstresses suggested a poultice of bread dough followed by a vinegar rinse,” she lied.

  The butler's only outward reaction was the slightest raising of his dark brows. “I will most certainly attempt that upon retiring for the evening, Lady Nicki.”

  She nibbled at her lower lip in frustration. This was the night. All their plans depended upon her getting Simms away from the door to her father's office. “It is a quick procedure. Your color is truly alarming. Have you been perspiring by chance?”

  “I most assuredly have not.” The butler drew himself up. “It is a mystery to me why the hue has deepened. Perhaps we should pose the question to Master Shelby.”

  “I am certain Em must have dough rising in the kitchen. I will cover for you here.”

  Simms glanced at the study door, obviously torn. “I am to ensure no one enters your father's study. If you would be so kind as to watch for me . . . ”

  “Of course I will.” Nicki interjected herself between Simms and the door. “You go on and I will be here upon your return.”

  Again the man hesitated. “But the ball—you shall be
missed.”

  She shook her head brusquely. “I need the rest. Please, Simms, do run along. You'll be finished in no time at all and then I can return to the party.”

  “Very well. Bread dough and a vinegar rinse? How long should the poultice be left on?”

  Nicki thought for a moment. How much time would Shelby need? “A half hour, Simms, and you must recline during the procedure. The yeast in the dough should draw the dye from your skin.”

  “I appreciate your kindness, Lady Nicki. I shall return directly.”

  As she watched him leave, Nicki experienced the slightest twinge of guilt. But the moment he was out of sight, she rushed to the breakfast room and rapped lightly on the door. It opened a sliver, revealing one bright blue eye.

  “Shelby, hurry! Simms will return soon.”

  Her brother opened the door, then turned to pick up his box. Nicki retrieved a pillow cover filled with Shelby's necessities from the floor and followed him to their father's study. “It takes twenty minutes to get everything set up. I'll need your help to run the trip wire.”

  Nicki glanced into the hall before she eased the door closed. “Can you direct the spray to do as little damage to the furniture as possible?”

  Shelby peered out from under the desk. “I'll try. Come here and hold this wire.”

  As her little brother worked efficiently, Nicki followed his instructions with a sense of awe. Before her eyes, Shelby transformed from a young, troublesome imp to a brilliant young man confident in his accomplishments. Feelings of sadness and loss overwhelmed her, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat. Everyone grows up, she chastised herself. No matter how Mina or Shelby changed, no matter if they became spouses and parents, then grandparents, they would always be as special to her as they were right now.

  “Nick! Stop gathering wool and hand me the jar from the bag.”

  Nicki did as she was told, still uncertain as to the accuracy of the spray. “You know your mother will make a pillow cushion of you if you ruin one piece of furniture.”

  “Ah, leave off, Nick! Em suggested sherry. It'll still spray across the burglar and the smell should be easy to follow. I think she felt sorry for Simms having to go about looking like a big plum.”

  “Sherry? I suppose that should not do too much damage. Papa may become intoxicated from the fumes for several weeks. We may never see him leave this room.”

  Shelby crawled from beneath the desk and took his contraption to a tall cabinet used for old papers. He cleared several journals off the top and set the box in their place. This made the contraption slightly higher than Nicki's head.

  She had another twinge of doubt. “Shelby, what if the person we are seeking is short. Will the sherry not pass right over their head?”

  He grinned as he pulled a chair to the cabinet and stepped onto it to gain a better view of the box. “I've got the machine set to spray out in a five foot circle. That should get anyone from my height to . . . to the earl's.”

  That comment sobered them both. Nicki's chest tightened. No. After the revelations he had made that night in the tree, she would not believe Blake capable of anything so dishonorable. No matter how angry he was with her father, he would not have anything to do with such despicable acts.

  She watched her brother work for several more moments. “I must go, Shelby. Are you finished?”

  He shook his head. “It's taking longer than I thought. You go outside and keep watch. I'll leave through the window.”

  “Just be careful getting back into the house.” Nicki shivered as she recalled her brush with disaster Wednesday night. If anything happened to Shelby, she would never forgive herself.

  After first checking the hall, Nicki slipped from the study and stood as casually as possible outside. Moments later, she saw Mina peek in from the drawing room doorway and motion toward the end of the hall. As her sister ducked back into the drawing room, Nicki spied Simms returning.

  She experienced a jolt of surprise at the sight of the butler, his face a glowing oblong of blue. He approached her with his usual stiffness. Arriving well before him was the overpowering, bitter scent of vinegar. Nicki's eyes started to burn and then to tear.

  “Lady Nicki, I regret that the poultice was not a success.”

  How could she keep from laughing? Shelby had called him a big plum, but now he was a blueberry. She summoned a serious thought. “Simms, I am so sorry. But perhaps the color was beginning to fade. You must attempt the poultice again later tonight. I realize you are anxious to return to your duties at the moment.”

  Simms turned his watery gaze to her. “I believe I shall wait for the dye to fade on its own, my lady. If I continue changing colors, I shall be accused of having strange powers.”

  “I must say the blue is quite striking on you, Simms. A very handsome color.”

  A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, Lady Nicki, that is indeed comfort.”

  Nicki moved aside and Simms took her place near the door to the study. She listened, but could hear no sound. Perhaps her brother had finished. “I had best return to the dancing. I believe I have missed several and shall have to make them up. I am sorry the poultice did not work, Simms. I had such high hopes.”

  “As did I. But no matter. We tried, did we not?”

  She nodded. “Yes, we did.”

  . . .

  Blake scanned the drawing room. His attention paused on Mina, but none of her companions possessed hair of the palest gold shot through with pure sunlight. Damn, where was the little minx? She had given him the slip earlier in the evening and he seriously doubted her actions were coincidental. Another suspicion rose to the fore of his thoughts, unbidden and unwanted. His gaze once again swept the room, then paused on a figure in emerald green. There was that popinjay, Teddy, but Nicole was nowhere about.

  Bartholomew caught Blake's look and raised his wineglass in a sarcastic salute. Manners required that he respond, so Blake raised his hand briefly before turning his attention elsewhere.

  Then he saw her. Standing in the opposite entrance to the drawing room, her cheeks flushed the color of rosebuds and her eyes sparkled until they threw every gem in the room into shadow. She was lovely. Ethereal.

  And she had obviously been up to something.

  He crossed the room in long swift strides and caught her before she could move from the doorway. The brilliance of her smile filled him with a sense of awe that a creature of light and joy could find such pleasure in his company.

  “And where have you been hiding? If I were a jealous man, I might believe you had been trysting with a lover.”

  She turned her head slightly, giving him a crooked smile. “You know full well you have nothing to fear. If anyone should be worried it is I.”

  With a quick step to the side, Blake came around Nicole and looked into the hall. The only occupant was a tall, slender man. “Good Lord, who is that?”

  Nicole touched her finger to her lips. “It is Simms. Who else?”

  “The man is as blue as the uniforms of the castle guard!”

  She tugged on his arm insistently, dragging him from the doorway. “Shhh! He will hear you!”

  Blake followed for several steps, then halted, pulling Nicole up short. “Is he not aware he is blue?”

  Obviously exasperated yet again by his apparent obtuseness, Nicole sighed. “Of course he knows, but he is rather sensitive on the subject.”

  “And well he should be. He resembles an oversized blueberry.”

  “I . . . I think it is a vast improvement over his earlier skin tone. Shelby called him a plum.” She tugged him between two groups of guests, smiling distractedly as a young man shouted a greeting. “It will wear off eventually, but why bedevil him over it in the meantime?”

  He eyed her curiously. Such a magnificent brain hiding under all that glorious hair. He imagined he could hear the incessant buzzing of schemes forming. “I promise I will behave as though nothing is untoward.”

  “Good. Now
I want to dance. I believe you owe me at least three.”

  Blake was agreeable to any form of exercise in which he might hold Nicole close. “Very well, my dear. Lead the way.”

  She set out for the ballroom with single-minded determination. He followed, deep in thought. Tomorrow this lovely creature would belong to him. With her came that strong sense of loyalty and unbending devotion to those she loved that he found so intriguing, because she included him in her circle of family.

  She had said she loved him. Even now the memory of those words sent his heart soaring. No one had said those words to him since his mother. He had told himself time and again he did not need the love of another, that when love came it brought unbearable pain in its wake. But he found he wanted Nicole's love. No, he craved it. And he would do anything to keep it. Anything.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Seeing that he followed her through the crush, she offered a bright grin. He smiled in answer. God, he had not smiled so much since . . . he could not remember.

  Nicole took both his hands and pulled him into the throng of dancers, coming into his arms with the lightness of air. But there was nothing transparent in the feel of her slim waist under his hand. “No matter how you turn your nose up at Angelica's teachings, she did a wonderful job. You dance like an angel.”

  A charming flush tinged her dusky cheeks. “The lessons were tedious, but this clumsy country miss can hold her own amidst the ton. Angelica knew what she was about.”

  “It is a wonder she still has her sanity. If you had fallen out of that tree or been knocked from one of those great beasts you love, you might have been killed or maimed.”

  The gaiety left her face. “Angelica cares only for what is proper, not the injuries.”

  Blake forged ahead, knowing he tread upon dangerous soil. “She has known you for, what? Twelve years, thirteen? That is a very long time. It must have been difficult for her to remain aloof with two such delightful girls.”

  “I . . . I suppose I was not so delightful where she was concerned. If she said the day was cold I refused to wear my cloak and muff. If she said the red gown flattered me, I changed into the yellow.”