"The stone was hidden in the box Papa gave me. Oh, Sarad, do you think he stole it? Is that why Cousin Fergus threatened to name Papa a thief?" Her stomach roiled when she recalled the threats.
Sarad shook his head. "The Eye vanished long before your father came to India, so long ago that the story is a myth. It is said he who possesses the Eye will be blessed with wealth and happiness."
"Yogi Yakshi told me a different story about the gem. That he who has the gem will gain what he deserves."
"Both may be right," Sarad said.
She hung the chain around her neck. "Do you think this is the sapphire Cousin Fergus wants?"
"If that is the case, I do not understand why you would wear the stone and why you are insisting on going tonight."
Nicola held her reasons inside. She couldn't tell him she hoped to see her husband at the ball, to watch him and store memories to carry her into her self-imposed exile.
"What if Crawford followed you from the bookseller's? He could be waiting outside to carry you away."
She sighed. "If he's still around, I will be in as much danger tomorrow when I leave for the cottage and I won't have your protection."
"You are right. He is a bhujang and will not meet you face to face. He will lurk in the shadows poised to strike. If he wants the Eye, he will not hesitate to harm you."
"I've escaped him twice and will do so a third time."
Sarad threw up his hands. "You are as foolhardy as Margaret and as overconfident as Elizabeth. You must promise not to stray from my side. What will you do if the Earl comes to the ball?
She fastened the veil and reached for the door. "Would you know me if you saw me from a distance? I won't allow him to approach." She sighed. "I wish a nibble of the life I could have had. That is all."
"And if Crawford comes?"
Nicola laughed. "He doesn't have entrance to such an affair."
Sarad shook his head. "That does not mean he will not try."
"If he comes, I'll give him the Eye and we'll be rid of him. If you don't go with me, I'll go alone."
"And for that reason alone, I will escort you." He rose. "Why not forgive your husband and return to his home?"
"You don't understand. He doesn't want me. He doesn't love me. He won't believe I carry his child." Tears filled her eyes and she fought to keep them from falling.
More than anything, she wanted Drew's love. For a handful of days, she'd believed she had won his heart, but she'd been fooled. To love, one had to trust. Drew had refused to believe she was different from his mother. She slumped against the door. By running from Denmere, she had proved his fears were true and had thrown away her chance for happiness.
Sarad offered his arm. "The Countess Truesdale will be devastated if we do not make our appearance. Come, the Maharajah and Maharani of Calcutta's coach awaits."
Nicole fastened the veil and followed Sarad from the room. The huge sapphire swayed in rhythm with her steps.
During the ride from the hotel to the Truesdale's townhouse, despair filled her thoughts. Would it matter if Drew attended the ball? There would be no joyful reunion. By tomorrow, she would be on her way to Cornwall. She would gladly give the gemstone to Cousin Fergus if her hopes could be restored.
"We are here," Sarad said.
Nicola wet her lips. Her fingers brushed the sapphire. When the coach door opened, Sarad stepped down and waited for her to join him. Her fingers trembled as she placed them on his arm. They joined the line of arriving guests entering the townhouse.
A clock struck ten times as Nicola and Sarad reached their host and hostess. "My dear Maharajah, I am so thrilled you accepted my invitation," the Countess gushed. When Sarad bowed low over her hand, she tittered. "So happy you brought your dear wife. Oh la, what a magnificent jewel." She turned to her husband. "The Maharajah of Calcutta, my dear." The portly young man nodded. The Countess rattled on. "I pray you will enjoy our meager hospitality. I am sure affairs in your home would put this poor effort to shame."
"Your home is beautiful," Sarad said. "We have the great pleasure in being here." He reached for Nicola's arm. "We should not hold your other guests back."
When Nicola entered the ballroom, she gasped. The vast room was a study in white and silver. Candles burned in crystal chandeliers and in sconces set on the walls. Chairs covered in white brocade formed clusters in the corners of the room. Masses of white flowers nearly hid the orchestra and filled silver baskets set on pedestals about the room.
Sarad lifted two glasses of champagne from a passing footman dressed in silver and white livery. Nicola lifted her veil, supped and savored the flavor of the wine. The scent of roses and the aroma of a hundred perfumes swirled in the air the way the dancers moved through the figures of a country dance.
Before long, she and Sarad stood in the center of a group of curious guests. The men formed a dark background for the colorful gowns of the women. Questions flew. Nicola kept her eyes lowered and listened to Sarad's responses.
He found London an intriguing city. The climate was colder than India, but the frequent rain showers reminded him of the monsoons. The food lacked the heavy spices his palate desired. Unfortunately, the Maharani spoke no English though she understood a bit. He had learned the language as a child. Yes, elephants were enormous beasts and were often ridden. He and his wife had no children.
Behind her, Nicola heard an excited whisper. "He is so handsome and mysterious. I wish he would ask me to dance."
Cynthia Rasher. Nicola prayed the Baron's daughter wouldn't see through the disguise.
"I'll make the suggestion and see if I can capture the hand of the Maharani. Did you know she's a princess in her land? I would love to see the face beneath the veil for I wonder if it's as intriguing as her form. Did you see the jewel she wears?"
Nicola grasped the sapphire. Cynthia Rasher's companion was the Viscount Devonley. She glanced at Sarad, hoping to catch his eye, but Devonley addressed his question first.
"I am sorry," Sarad said. "I do not know your dancing."
"Perhaps your lady would like to take a turn about the room," Devonley suggested.
Nicola stiffened. The Viscount's remarks to Drew had set in motion her husband's suspicions of her nature. She studied the sea of people to find an escape. Sarad reached for her hand. "Your suggestion for a stroll is welcome, but I will do the honors."
* * * *
Drew fastened the turquoise cravat pin Nicola had given him as a wedding gift and stepped back from the mirror. Though Bevel would have created an unusual arrangement, Drew believed he would do. He still had difficulty accepting the services of a valet. He held out his arms so the footman could assist him into his corbeau evening jacket. After slipping on his Spanish leather pumps, he walked to the door. As he entered the hall, he heard a clock strike the quarter hour.
Elevenish, Tristan had said. Drew gulped a breath and thought about the coming confirmation. Once again, he repeated his plans. First he would convince her of his love and then he would scold her.
Why had he agreed to accompany Tristan to the Truesdale's ball? His friend would find the situation amusing and Drew's nervousness funny. Tristan wouldn't allow himself to plunge into a bumble broth, and he would definitely never treat a woman the way Drew had treated Nicola.
He heard the front door knocker. Percy stepped to the door. Drew paused on the stairs. His eagerness to be off made him feel foolish. Why did he expect Nicola to forgive him? He feared she wouldn't listen to either his apology or his confession.
The doors opened. Drew groaned. Instead of Tristan, the Dowager and his wards along with a group of servants spilled into the hall. Tristan strolled behind them. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms on his chest. His grin broadened.
"La Drew, I'm sure you did not expect us to arrive with such dispatch," the Dowager said. "The trip has been a trial, but then, you know for you have traveled with this wrangling pair. My head thumps and I'm completely beside myself." She turned. "B
ertha, see that my trunks are delivered to my room and find me some tea. Prabha, Peggy, see to the girls. Bevel, attend the Earl. Drew, surely, you don't plan to go out when we have just arrived."
Drew reached Aldora's side and kissed her cheek. "But I am. Tristan and I are for the Truesdale's ball. He has promised me an enlightening evening."
"Tristan, how can you drag him off for pleasure at such a time?" The Dowager rounded on Cairnton. Drew feared she would assault his friend. "We did not come to town for pleasure. Surely he has told you all."
Tristan raised Aldora's hand and placed a kiss on her wrist above her glove. "My dear Countess, you are as lovely as ever. Even a tedious journey can't dim your vitality."
"Save your Spanish coin for someone who will believe you. Drew, what news have you of Nicola?"
Margaret planted herself in Drew's path. "Where is my sister?" The pig squealed. "Have you let Cousin Fergus find her?"
Tristan laughed. "Frogs, cats, dogs and now a pig. Miss Margaret, you are an original. I can't wait to see the London scene when you make your bows."
"Why haven't you found Nicola?" Elizabeth asked.
Drew smiled. "Though your sister isn't in my pocket, I know exactly where she can be found."
"Then why are you standing here?" Margaret asked. "Go and bring her home."
"Perhaps the crust in this hall is keeping him from the door," Tristan said. "Come, Drew. We don't want to be more than fashionably late."
Aldora lifted a handkerchief to her eyes. "You can't go to a ball when you should be finding Nicola."
"Of course I can." Drew edged past the Dowager. "I make this promise. Your granddaughter will be in this house before morning."
"Really and truly?" Margaret dropped the pig and moved to hug Drew.
"Watch your shoes," Drew said. "The pig has a liking for polish." He side-stepped the pig and pushed Tristan to the door. The pig followed.
"Catch your pet before she ends in someone's pot," Tristan called.
"As soon as you have collected Nicola, bring her directly to us," the Dowager said. "I vow I will not sleep a wink until I've seen her."
"Me either," Margaret and Elizabeth said in unison.
Drew hurried down the steps. A laughing Tristan followed. "What a scene. Rivaled the best of farces I've seen on the stage. I swear Margaret has infected your entire household with her hoyden nature." He settled in the coach opposite Drew. "Do you really plan to return to the house tonight? I would think you might desire privacy and seclusion for your reunion with your bride. Do you think the trio plus pig will allow you a second for yourselves?"
With a groan, Drew leaned back. "I can't believe they made the trip so soon. My plans are a shambles and I don't know where to begin in order to gain control of matters."
Tristan chuckled. "I believe control is the problem. For once, can't you flow with the moment? Spontaneity adds spice to life."
"I dread to think how many teams were blown on their journey."
"Who knows," Tristan said. "Stop worrying about such a trifle and think of how you will separate your bride from the crush we're sure to find. You can't toss her over your shoulder and rush out. I dare say that would create the very scandal I'm sure you wish to avoid."
Tristan spoke the truth but Drew couldn't shed the image from his thoughts. When he and Tristan entered the ballroom, Drew scanned the dancers and groups for his wife. First he spotted Sarad, resplendent in a red and gold coat. Next he saw Devonley and clutched his fists. The man seemed ready to pounce on the veiled woman dressed in dark blue and silver.
"There she is." Drew started across the room. Tristan strode beside him.
* * * *
Nicola saw Viscount Devonley leave his partner with her chaperone. She nudged Sarad, but before they had time to move, the top-lofty young man cornered them.
"Maharajah, does your wife wear a veil to hide some imperfection? I believe a veil would improve any number of ladies of my acquaintance."
"My lord, men of India value their wives," Sarad said. "The veil hides my wife's beauty from all men lest one of them covet my treasure and is provoked to some mad scheme to possess what I own. Alas, if one of them should see her, there are a number of just punishments I dare not mention in the presence of ladies."
Nicola felt laughter bubble inside. She looked up in hopes of catching Sarad's eye and thus share her amusement. Instead, she felt a chill. Drew and Tristan strode across the ballroom. Her husband's rigid posture and his purposeful stride announced his anger. She edged closer to Sarad and spoke in Hindi to warn him.
"Lords and ladies, my wife feels faint. Let me take her outside."
"Allow me to assist you." Drew's clipped tones made her stumble. He grasped her arm.
Tristan draped an arm around Sarad's shoulder. "The Maharajah of Calcutta, I presume. I believe Countess Truesdale in rapture over your presence at her ball. There are ever so many questions I wish to ask about your country."
"See here Cairnton," Devonley said. "The Maharajah and I were speaking."
"You may have your turn when I'm finished," Drew said. "It seems this pair are friends of my wife and I've come with an invitation for them to visit her at Denmere."
Tristan chuckled. "She'll be ecstatic to see her dear friends." Keeping hold of Sarad, he moved ahead of Drew and Nicola. "Let's find a private room so we can make our arrangements."
Nicola regretted her role dictate she remained silent. There were a number of things she wished to say. She spoke in Hindi and told Sarad she would take the blame.
Drew stroked her arm. "Don't be afraid, Maharani. I have no intention of hurting you."
Nicola chewed on her lower lip. Her body trembled and her stomach churned.
Tristan opened a door and ushered Sarad inside. Drew and Nicola followed. Tristan closed the door. Drew released his hold on Nicola's arm so abruptly she nearly fell. She moved to sit on a sofa near a door that opened into the garden.
"Are the pair of you fools?" Drew asked. "I can understand that friendship allowed you to persuade Sarad to help you. Crawford is in London and you have placed yourself where he will have no trouble finding you. Sarad, I thought you were a sensible fellow. How did you become involved in this scheme?"
"She would have gone alone if I had not accompanied her," Sarad said.
Tristan cleared his throat. "Instead of assigning blame, we need to determine how to extract the pair without exposing them as frauds."
"Let us leave," Nicola said. "Sarad can explain that I've taken ill."
"You will go nowhere without me, madam."
Nicola slid along the sofa to the end and put her hand on the arm. She had no desire to hear her husband's bitter words. "Why are you doing this? You don't want me."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Yes."
"Denmere, let Sarad and me make our excuses to the Countess while leaving the dreadfully ill Maharani in your care and allowing us to arrange for a carriage to pick you up at the garden gate."
"The very thing." Drew turned from Nicola to look at his friend.
She waited to hear no more. She opened the door a crack and stepped outside. What a tangle her life had become. She hurried down the steps and across the grass toward the row of bushes that nearly hid the wall.
"Where is your protector?"
She gasped. Cousin Fergus had found her. She backed away and turned to run to the safety of the house. The narrow skirt of the sari hobbled her. She had gone no more than five steps before he grabbed her.
"What a foolish chit ye be. Ye can't escape me this time. I will have what I seek."
Nicola reached for the sapphire intending to pull the chain over her head. His fingers dug into her arm.
"Take the gem," she said.
He put his hand over her mouth. She sank her teeth into the fleshy part of his hand. Not only did she fear for herself, but for the child she carried.
"Bitch."
He whirled her to face him. She inhaled and screamed
. He shoved a wadded cloth into her mouth. The odor and the rancid taste made her gag.
He laughed. "Ye're more foolish than I believed. Ye brought me what I sought." He yanked the chain. She felt the links bite into her skin.
* * * *
After Sarad and Tristan left the room, Drew turned to deal with Nicola. This time he would keep his fear chained. He glanced toward the sofa. Once more, fear converted to anger. Why wouldn't she listen? He crossed to the door and stepped outside. Her scream alerted him. He vaulted down the steps and stumbled when his still healing leg buckled. When he regained his balance, he ran across the lawn.
"Crawford, let her be," he shouted.
The man pushed Nicola into Drew. She fell. He landed on his hands and knees. He gulped a breath. If Crawford had harmed her or their child, he wouldn't rest until he saw the man punished.
Crawford vanished into the shadows. Though Drew wanted to follow and thrash the man, his first concern was for his wife. There were so many things he had to tell her. Words she needed to hear.
When he lifted her into his arms, he saw the thin line of blood on her neck. What had Crawford done? Rage at the man threatened to consume all other emotions. Drew sucked in a deep breath and touched her throat. Shallow, the cut was shallow. He loosened his cravat and covered the injury.
"Nicola, I love you." As though he feared she would never know, the words spilled out. "I didn't mean the things I said. I've been a fool." He felt her breath on his face. "Open your eyes, love. Life without you would be completely empty."
* * * *
Nicola sighed but kept her eyes closed. His words flowed over her like a blessing. He loved her. His fingers stroked her face.
"I love you," she whispered. "I should have stayed and fought to make you believe me."
"Don't blame yourself. What I said and did was wrong. I wouldn't blame you if you sent me away."
She looked up and saw love shining in his eyes. "'Tis karma and we can't fight fate. In India, I was told a man who needed my love was my destiny."
Gemstones Page 25