Once Upon A Diamond

by McCarthy, Teresa

  His brows rose in shocked silence as she poked her head through the opening and alerted the coachman to stop the carriage as it drove past a small stone building.

  “You may drop me off here, please!”

  “What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Tristan asked, curtly.

  Immediately his gaze attached to the gentle sway of her hips. Hell and spitfire. She definitely seemed to be older than she looked. He stretched his hands forward, ready to catch her when she fell back into her seat.

  Kate answered him with a cool stare. To his amazement, she didn’t fall, but sat back down for the final few seconds of her trip.

  “Kate, I–” He wanted to apologize, but had no notion how to go about it.

  She lifted her chin, flogging his ego with her defiance. The carriage stopped abruptly, and her skirts brushed by him, rustling in anger as she grabbed her cloak.

  “Pray, do not bother yourself by rising to the occasion, P.W.” She let out a confident smile, her pert little nose dancing in the air. “I can descend without your help. But I must thank you for a most amusing ride. Indeed. Most amusing."

  Before Tristan could move, the steps were lowered and Kate had departed the carriage, blazing a trail of triumph behind her. She held the preposterous birdcage in one hand and gestured to the footman to follow along with her load of trunks.

  Tristan sat watching in amazement. P.W.? His chest began to shake with silent laughter. P.W. was short for pompous windbag.

  “Mr. Digby,” he heard her whisper to his driver. “I must thank you for stopping when I asked.”

  “Quite all right, Miss.”

  Tristan strained to listen through the open window as Kate tried to lower her voice.

  “Nevertheless,” she said, “I’m going to have to demand no more nips from the bottle. One cannot drive properly under the influence.”

  Tristan frowned. Nips from what bottle?

  “Yes, Miss. Truly sorry, I am.”

  Tristan shook his head. Poor Digby, the gruff man was becoming putty in Kate’s hands.

  “You need not worry though,” Kate whispered, as if Digby and she were old friends. “I won’t say a word to your employer. He is an ogre at times, is he not? I would not want you let go.”

  Ogre? Tristan dropped his jaw and moved to whip open the carriage door, but stopped when he heard the distinct splashing of liquid onto the ground. He squinted past the window and could have sworn he smelled brandy.

  Blast it all! That was good brandy!

  Without Kate aware of his gaze, he watched her back as she removed every drop of liquor from the bottle, handing Digby back the container.

  “Mr. Digby,” she uttered in a low, silky voice that sent Tristan’s teeth on edge, “I should think you would take better care of yourself and his lordship from now on. No more drinking on the job."

  “Yes, Miss. Ain’t never going to touch the stuff when I drive.” He hiccupped. “Cross me heart.” And with that, she was off.

  Tristan glared out the opposite window, wanting to exit and deliver Kate to wherever she was going in Ridgewater. But for her sake, he stayed where he was. Being seen in the streets with the Earl of Lancewood would keep the gossip mills talking for months.

  Dash it all. He wasn’t going to feel for this little chit. His mother had squeezed all the love out of him long ago. It was a tough lesson, but he would not repeat his mistakes.

  However, with Edward it was different. Fraternal love still had a place in his heart. But for women, his heart held nothing but scars. He enjoyed female company as much as any other male. But love a woman? Let her become part of his life? Part of his soul? That would only come to pass when hell iced over.

  A stab of guilt pierced him as he watched Kate march to the front door of Bailey’s Tavern. He felt a disturbing clench of his stomach. Perhaps she was tricking him. Perhaps she knew no one in the village. Knowing the chit, even for such a short time, it could all be a show with that stubborn pride of hers.

  Mumbling an oath, he grabbed the handle of the carriage door, but stopped himself. No. He decided to let her play it through. P.W. indeed!

  He narrowed his eyes as she spoke to a young boy coming around the corner. The gangly youth pointed her up the road. Kate adjusted her gray cloak, picked up her skirts, and gestured the footman to follow. She was heading toward the old stone church.

  Tristan squinted against the sun as he watched her progress. So it was the vicar who was her relative. Intriguing. But how she would ever last anywhere with that haughty attitude?

  As he watched the last bit of gray disappear behind the doors of the vicarage, he scratched his head feeling there was something familiar about her exit. Yet he couldn't quite put his finger on it. What was it about the girl?

  It suddenly occurred to him that he had no notion of her last name. He laughed at the absurdity of it all. Instantly his lips dipped into a frown. She had obviously been shaken from the horrid events at the inn and tried to hide her fears.

  He vowed to look in on her, inconspicuously, of course.

  His interest in her had nothing to with any significant emotion in the past twenty-four hours except concern, he assured himself. Concern and nothing else.

  Taking a last glance back, he could have sworn he saw a mangy dog scurrying toward the church. Impossible. They’d left Handsome at the inn.

  An hour later Kate found herself at Ridgewater Manor greeted by a stoic looking butler. The elderly gentleman threw her a short bow. “Webster, at your service, Miss Wilcox. We were expecting you.”

  Kate greeted the man and could not help but notice the ornately carved wood banister swirling up the red-carpeted steps in front of her. She took in a deep breath. She was so nervous she could barely think straight.

  Though her aunt was her father’s sister, Kate had wondered more than once if she would be truly welcome. She would just have to make the best of her circumstances, whatever they were.

  Earlier, she had been quite fortunate that the vicar had been planning to leave for his daily calls. The man had been more than happy to give her a lift from the village to the duke’s home. Relieved, she had accepted the man’s kindness, having no wish to return to the carriage and Tristan. A part of her regretted her outburst with the earl, but the rebellious part of her rejoiced in having the last word. P. W. The memory almost made her laugh.

  “If you would please follow me, Miss Wilcox.” The butler motioned for a young footmen to take her trunks.

  Kate flexed her gloved hands and dutifully followed the butler down the long marbled hallway. She raised a quick peek to the magnificent chandelier dangling directly above her and suppressed a shiver. It was a grand home. But with all her heart, she wished she were back at Wilcox Manor.

  Things had changed. That meant her cousin Devin was older, just like Tristan. She told herself that in another twenty-four hours she would forget all about the earl and his pompous ways. He might be swashbuckling handsome, but she was no damsel in distress. At least not yet.

  She had only followed the butler about five steps when a bark sounded behind them. The butler spun around just as a footman opened the front door and Handsome came bounding into the hall.

  “Handsome, you good old boy.” Kate smiled and knelt down, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “Did you follow me all this way?"

  The butler cleared his throat. “Is this your dog, Miss Wilcox?"

  Kate looked at the dog and back up at him. “Why, yes, it is.” Her tone was protective and firm. If Handsome had followed her this far, she was not about to let the dog go. “And this is my bird."

  She pulled the cover off the cage she was holding. If there were any question as to who was staying and who was going from Ridgewater Manor, she wanted it done now. She would fight for what was hers. The dog and the parrot.

  “It’s divine, simply divine!” The parrot squawked at the same time Handsome let out a hearty ruff. Kate stifled a giggle when the butler’s bushy eyebrows rose about an i
nch.

  “Very well then,” Webster replied. “The dog may stay in the stables and that,” he shot the bird a stern look, “shall stay in your room.”

  Kate beamed at the man. “I appreciate your kindness, Webster.”

  The butler stared back, as if he were horrified at her words. With a stiff hand, he motioned for a servant to take the bird and another to take the dog, then proceeded to the drawing room.

  A minute later, huge doors thudded behind Kate. She found herself alone in an enormous room decorated in Egyptian motif. She vaguely remembered the room being painted a soft blue ten years ago. Tears welled in her eyes as she took a seat on the nearby sofa. But nothing ever stayed the same, did it? Not life, not love, nothing.

  She didn’t know how long she sat waiting for someone to arrive, one minute or ten, it seemed forever. But when the door opened, she rose from her seat.

  A dark-haired gentleman strolled in to greet her. His shiny black boots clicked across the floor and halted as soon as they hit the rug. “You must be my lovely cousin from America. Miss Wilcox, is it not? Forgive me for not greeting you when you arrived.”

  He reached for her hand. “Lord Roxdon, your cousin. I believe we’ve met before.”

  Kate’s heart jumped out of her chest. Lord Roxdon? She felt ill. No doubt this was Devin, her aunt’s stepson. His biological mother had died when he was one. He was absolutely breathtaking. So he had changed, too. What had she expected?

  He was garbed in neatly pressed riding clothes. She wondered if he had seen the earl’s carriage drop her off in the village. Hopefully not. She could deal with only one pompous windbag at a time.

  “I want to thank you for hosting my stay in England. I have had a most horrendous trip and seemed to have lost my health. But I can assure you, I am on the road to recovery."

  “Are you now?” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow toward her person and changed the subject. “My mother will see you at supper tonight. I suspect you would like to freshen up first. Webster, our butler will show you to your chambers.” He rang the bell cord. “I shall have a tea tray sent up as soon as possible.”

  Kate stared back, speechless at his rudeness.

  “Forgive me for leaving you, cousin. I do have a riding engagement, then to London tomorrow. However, we will be going to many parties and balls, as I have been chosen to be your escort.”

  Kate managed a weak smile. It was obvious he had choked on his last two words, your escort. The man was as bad as the conceited earl. Two pompous windbags of the illustrious ton.

  Later that evening, after a hot bath and a good rest, Kate took a seat at the Duke of Ridgewater’s elegant dining table. She was not at all surprised to see that Devin was not in attendance. Her Aunt Georgiana, the Duchess of Ridgewater, was overjoyed to have her visiting them.

  Kate noted the lady was not wearing mourning clothes, and upon further conversation, her aunt had announced that she too refused to acknowledge her brother’s death and would not mourn him unless they found his body.

  Kate no longer wondered where she had obtained her stubbornness.

  As the oxen-tail soup was served, the duchess’s eyes narrowed with concern. “Katherine, you must eat to build your strength. We shall fatten you up in no time.”

  “I shall do my best, Your Grace.” Kate spooned the soup into her mouth, feeling quite amused at her aunt’s outspoken manner.

  “Nonsense, Katherine. Please call me, Aunt Georgiana. After all, I am your father’s baby sister. Your mother and I were best friends you know. You do look like her, the shape of your face and that pert little nose of yours. I’m certain with a little more food and fresh air, you will be the picture of your beautiful mother.”

  The lady’s voice cracked as she dabbed the napkin to her eyes. “Mercy, I have no idea what got into me.”

  “Georgiana," the duke interrupted. “Can you not see the girl is ill? Do you have to weep over the memories of her mother?"

  The duchess sniffed. But Kate didn’t miss the cool glare the duchess sent her husband. “Forgive me, Katherine. You remind me of her so much.” After a pause, her aunt managed a smile. “And you know, there is no need to worry your little head over the next few months, Devin shall escort you throughout the entire Season."

  With a hint of despair, Kate’s eyes drifted across the table as she regarded her eighteen-year-old cousin, Lady Charlotte, who had said not a word. Kate would have adored playing with the girl ten years before, but it was unfortunate that her cousin had been in Bath at the time.

  “I did meet up with Devin earlier,” Kate added.

  The duke looked up. “Yes, well, it seems the boy was in a desperate hurry to get back to London. Parties and what not.”

  The duchess gave the duke another surly look. “That boy has always seemed to have an enormous amount of energy.” She gave Kate a wink, but her eyes drilled into her husband’s. “It’s almost impossible to try and keep him in one place. Do you recall Devin from your last visit, Katherine?”

  Kate managed a smile. “He hasn’t changed a bit.” She lowered her head and thought she heard a giggle from across the table.

  After the meal, the duke glanced up at Kate. “My dear, you’ve had a long voyage and are quite exhausted. I fear we are keeping you from a much needed rest.”

  Kate gave him a weary smile. “Indeed, I am a bit tired.”

  “Of course, my dear." The duchess motioned to her butler. “Webster, please escort my niece back to her room.” She glanced at Kate and smiled. “Ridgewater Manor is so huge, a visitor could get lost, but if you need anything else you have only to ask.”

  Kate rose from her seat. “Thank you for everything. If you will excuse me."

  Kate followed the butler into the hall. “Webster,” she called in a soft voice.

  The butler stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Yes, Miss? Is there something wrong?"

  “No.” She stepped forward and put her hand on his spindly arm. “I simply wanted to thank you again for taking care of my dog. It was very thoughtful of you not to throw him out.”

  She thought she saw a quick smile beneath those cool, assessing eyes. “Was only doing my duty, Miss Wilcox.”

  And with that he continued up the flight of stairs, twisting through the halls to her room.

  Kate told herself that before she returned home, she would obtain a full-fledged smile out of that stuffy old servant yet.

  Minutes later in the drawing room, the duchess shot her husband a hardened glare. “Needless to say, Phillip, I do not believe that Devin was very attentive to Katherine when she arrived.”

  “I cannot forgive his manners.” The duke sank back in his comfy wing chair, situated beneath one of the stone sphinxes, and sipped his port. “But one truly cannot blame the boy for running, dear. Girl’s not exactly the spitting image of her mother.”

  “Oh, how can you be so heartless? The poor creature has traveled thousands of miles aboard a gloomy, bug-infested ship. From Matthew’s previous letter, she refuses to acknowledge the death of her father. My very own brother. And I cannot very well go against her wishes.”

  The duchess, in near tears, circled the room like a hawk closing in on its prey. “And your son gave her the cold shoulder,” she snorted furiously, her hands on her hips. “When we stay in Town, I want you to have a talk with him. Do you hear me, Phillip?”

  Her eyes flamed with uncontrolled fury. Something her mild-mannered husband obviously took with a grain of salt.

  “Yes, I heard you, dear. I shall speak to him.”

  He took another casual sip of his port. “But as I said before, you cannot blame the boy. Dash it, he’s twenty-seven and has an eye for the ladies. No doubt he has no wish to be clapped down with that homely chit the entire Season, even if she is your brother’s daughter.”

  “Well!” Georgiana stomped out of the room, slamming the huge doors behind her, but not before she let her husband understand his dire predicament. “I shall have the door to my room bol
ted tonight and every night until you address this problem with your son.”

  That comment attracted the duke’s attention as much as a cannon ball shot through the drawing room window. He jerked from his seat, splashing the port on his white cravat. “By George, you shall not bar me from your room, madam!”

  She lifted her chin in triumph and let out a feisty “Humph,” then trudged past the doors.

  The duke scowled at her retreating back. “Webster!”

  The butler came bounding in the room. “Your Grace?”

  “I wish to see my son as soon as he walks through that door. Riding indeed! It’s past ten o’clock. And I don’t care a cursed guinea if he returns at two in the morning. I need–”

  He let out an aggravated sigh. “I wish to see him before he takes to Town tomorrow. Do you understand?”

  “Indeed, you grace.” The butler headed toward the door, a slight semblance of a smile flitting across his face.

  Tristan leaned back in his chair, frowning as his friend stared back at him.

  “I’m telling you, it’s your duty to help me,” Devin pleaded. “Mother would disown me if I don’t escort Katherine this Season. You’re the only one who can dig me out of this grave.”

  Tristan tapped his finger on his desk. “Prance that little savage about town? Come now, how dull-witted do you think I am?”

  Devin thrust a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m asking you as a friend, Trist. And take it from me, she’s such a weakling, she won’t last a week in the Season.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve seen her then?” This did not bode well.

  Devin conveniently side-stepped the question. “Mother says my cousin refuses to mourn the loss of her father. Won’t wear black, but is grieving inside. And believe it or not, Mother won’t let any of us mourn either. Absolutely no black gowns for her. Strange, how she refuses to acknowledge my uncle’s death. But then again Mother is determined to bring my cousin to Town for the Season. Hell’s bells, Trist. I doubt it will take much to send that little chit into a swoon and back home. She’s not the little vixen we knew.”