“She is overcome, Father,” Sterling offered to the vicar, even as he shot a disparaging look at the pair.
Father Parker nodded, overtly unsympathetic. “It is all too common, Mr. Rutherford. See that you don’t take it to heart! Women’s souls are simply weaker and tears a natural by-product of their delicate nature.”
“Yes, thank you, Father. Why don’t you show yourself out?” Michael told him without taking his eyes off of Grace.
Grace looked up, a faint smile crossing her lips at the delightful awkwardness of Mr. Rutherford tossing out a man of God on her behalf.
The vicar left in a huff and Sterling trailed after him, spewing apologies in the man’s wake. And for a few precious moments, she had Mr. Rutherford to herself.
“Mr. Rutherford,” she began unsteadily as she pulled the veil from her hair. “I…I don’t know what to say except—“
“Grace,” he interrupted her gently. “Let’s get out of this house. Then we can say everything we need to and speak freely. What say you?”
She nodded, her throat closing with gratitude and relief.
“Are your bags packed?” he asked.
“By the front door.”
“That is all I need to know.”
Michael retrieved his hat and guided her out to the foyer. He opened the front door and called out to the waiting driver he’d hired as they stepped out onto the landing. “Come get these things if you would. We’ll be leaving immediately.”
Sterling was at the bottom of the steps after waving off the vicar and wheeled about in shock. “There’s a cold luncheon waiting! And I had thought you’d want to have a chat before you…left with my sister, sir.”
Grace’s fingers tightened on Michael’s arm, completely adverse to the notion of lingering for a single minute longer than necessary. Mr. Rutherford looked down into her eyes and she began to pray that he could read her thoughts.
He nodded and covered her hand with his, speaking again to her without regard to anyone else. “Grace. Will you go ahead for me? Will you wait for me at the Grove? Mrs. Clay is eager to make you comfortable and I—I don’t know the way of it but if you need some time alone…”
She laughed, an odd hiccup of tears and mirth. She shook her head. She’d had endless days and nights alone but his thoughtfulness was unprecedented in her lifetime. “I’ll go ahead to the Grove and make the best of it. Just please don’t be too long. I-I don’t know the way of it either, Mr. Rutherford, but I cannot go back inside this house. I can’t.”
“You never have to cross Sterling’s door again. I swear it.” He leaned forward and chastely kissed her cheek, then straightened, a man in command of his surroundings as he walked her down the steps. “Take her bags. The lady will be leaving now.”
Sterling sputtered at the abrupt change to his envisioned plans but thanks to Mr. Rutherford’s firm instructions, she was safely ensconced inside the cab and her luggage secured above before her brother could construct any delays.
Michael closed the carriage door and smiled encouragingly at her through the window. “Nearly there.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Mr. Rutherford stepped back and the carriage pulled away at a good pace allowing her only one last glimpse of the house she’d shared with her brother for eight years and of Sterling standing on the top step to give the fleeting illusion that he was looming over Michael, like a dark bird of prey.
Sterling led him back into the house and up to his first floor study. The room was as depressingly appointed as Michael recalled from a few days ago and he fought the urge to sigh aloud. He wasn’t sure he could stomach another lecture on his lack of honor or be taunted about Grace.
Then again, this might be the time for the conversation they’d been meant to have all along. Michael chose his position in the room and stood by the window next to the desk, bypassing the chairs and any hint that he would “sit like a good boy”. He kept a clear path to the door whereas if Sterling chose to take his usual seat behind the desk, he would be hemmed in relinquishing the advantage of free movement.
Sterling sat at his desk and Michael averted his gaze out the window. “Why do I have the feeling you aren’t about to offer your congratulations?”
“Tell me one thing, Rutherford. Tell me you don’t already love my sister.”
Michael turned around and leaned against the wall saying nothing.
“Never mind,” Sterling waved off his own question. “It’s obvious that you do. Why else would you have leapt to her defense at every turn? Why else would you have submitted to every ridiculous request I made of you? A ball? Really, Mr. Rutherford? I could have asked you to escort her to greased pig races and you’d have done it, wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t wish to be uncivil, but I hate you already so don’t feel the need to try to spur me on.” Michael deliberately held as still as a cobra about to strike, unnerving his new brother-in-law. “Make a point or stop talking, Porter.”
Sterling smiled. “You’re right. I’ve wasted enough time. What was it your secret little club calls me? The Jackal?”
He’d known. Of course, he’d known but hearing Sterling say it was still incredible. My god, we are having that conversation, aren’t we?
“Yes. One of them wanted to call you something more illustrious but I thought a small carrion-feeding cowardly predator suited you better. But what can I do for you, Sterling?”
“You know what I’m after. It has never changed.”
Michael’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You never were clear. We’ve puzzled over it endlessly. Some nonsense about sacred treasure and threats but then you’d poison an innocent woman or set fire to a gambling hall…”
“I did not set that fire! You did! Don’t deny it!” Sterling’s fist pounded on his desk. “You meant to kill me!”
Michael shook his head. “Tell me, Sterling. How is it we are in this together?”
“We are in this because I was in that dungeon, too but not out of chance like the rest of you. I was after the sacred treasure all along and would have had it after I’d convinced the raj to let me go. I took note of the layout of his defenses and meant to return with a good mercenary fighting force to take the diamond by force since he didn’t agree to my ruse of presenting the stone as a betrothal gift to one of Queen Victoria’s daughters.”
“What? You…tried to trade for…an English princess’s hand in marriage?” Michael struggled to keep his composure. “I didn’t realize you had that kind of royal influence or connections, Sterling.”
“Shut up! He was mad enough to believe anything!”
“Except you, apparently, when you asked to waltz off with his favorite treasure…”
“I’d have had it if the Sepoy Rebellion hadn’t broken out and delayed my progress!” Sterling leaned back in his chair. “By the time I’d convinced my superiors to fund another attempt once the natives were put down, the raj’s madness led to his own destruction—and ultimately to your freedom.”
“You never…” Michael took a deep breath. “You never told anyone that you’d met us down in that hole? You never sought to aid us while you were negotiating your own way out?”
It was Sterling’s turn to shrug his shoulders. “Why would I? There was only one true treasure and I wasn’t about to share the glory or the profit I’d worked so hard to uncover for myself.”
“Have you no humanity?”
“Don’t be so dramatic. You survived didn’t you? Not that I ever expected it, otherwise I can assure you, I’d have paid closer attention to your names and asked a few more questions.”
“How unlucky for you.” Michael crossed his arms and casually shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. “Well, here is the message I’d have conveyed at the Thistle. Whatever it is you’re after, the Jaded are in no position to give it to you and have no interest in your heathen treasure, sacred or otherwise. We’re trying to get on with our lives and if you’d stop running a one man campaign of v
iolence against us, we’d have a better chance at it.”
Sterling’s fury was a beautiful thing to behold. “One of you has it in his possession! Don’t think to lie to me, Rutherford! You can’t imagine what I’ve gone through and while it was necessary to take my time or wait for better opportunities to make my case, we are both running out of time.”
“Running out of time? Why? Is this treasure’s power waning?”
“Don’t mock me! My superiors have accused me of creating the entire story as a scheme to bilk them out of their money.” Sterling leaned forward on his elbows. “You think I’m dangerous, Rutherford? You have no idea what devils I have been forced to kneel before! I’ve promised them a mystic diamond and by god, I’ll deliver it!”
“It’s a diamond? Mystic diamond? What in the world are they going to do with it when they have it? Magic shows in Piccadilly Circus to entertain the crowds?”
“They’ll buy it from me then gift it to the Crown! Of course, I’ve stipulated that I am credited with its discovery so I’ll then be rewarded accordingly by Her Majesty.”
“They’ll deduct your debts, pay you a pittance, gift it the Crown and reward you with a handshake! After all this time, I doubt they’ll be generous, Sterling. I don’t remember a clerk ever being knighted on a lark.”
“I’m not a clerk and I’m no fool! This is an opportunity for them to be an agent in the matter but if they seek to cheat me, I have already got a nice fat fish on the line who will pay handsomely to see a mystic diamond around the throat of his favorite mistress.” Sterling smiled. “After all, if my prize can’t land in the hands of a queen, then a prince’s whore will do! It would serve them all right if I profited while they were forced to see the treasure they squandered around a courtesan’s throat.”
“That’s brilliant,” Michael said. “No offense, but I can see how your time is becoming constricted with two interested parties pressing you for delivery however I fail to see where your bad debts and magical promises affect me.”
“Stop trying to play the child, Rutherford. The Jaded have my diamond and you are going to give it to me.”
“Am I?”
“You are. Because you genuinely love Grace and the marriage is proof of it. After all, if you were pretending to care for Grace to get close to me, you’d have thumbed your nose at my weak threat of scandal and walked away.” Sterling stood slowly. “But when you realized I might hurt her…”
Michael didn’t bother denying it but waited patiently for the hammer to fall.
“I have the reins, Rutherford. But like any good trainer knows, I’m going to give you a run to stretch your legs and expend some of your energy galloping about before I really let you feel the bit and the whip.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “I know I’m big enough to ride but I think you’ve stretched the comparison a bit too far, Porter. You don’t have the whip-hand with me.”
“I do. Enjoy your honeymoon, Mr. Rutherford. I am giving you seven days and seven nights as a wedding gift to my dear little sister.”
“Seven days. That has a biblical ring to it.”
Sterling didn’t laugh at the jest. “On the eighth night, if you don’t give me the diamond, I’ll kill Grace and make it look like you did it.”
“And why am I not simply stealing my bride away on the first boat to the Continent?” Michael asked.
“You don’t think I’ve resources enough to follow your movements or track the ports? You don’t think I’m a petty villain and wicked enough to strike out with vicious and wild abandon if I think you’re trying to cross me? By all means, take her and run.” Sterling leaned forward, his palms splayed against the desk’s blotter. “And when you’re gone, who will look out for your friends? Can you protect them all, Michael? Can you be everywhere at once? Care to gamble on whose throat I’ll have slit or what building I might pay an arsonist to light?”
“I never thought I could hate you more than I already did.”
“Noted. You’re a soldier. I am betting that you would prefer to fight the battle you can see and the enemy you know than risk some unknown war where the front lines are invisible and more innocent lives are exposed.” He gave Michael a smug smile. “Or am I wrong?”
“No.”
“The diamond by midnight on Sunday next, Rutherford.”
Michael nodded.
Sterling shook his head. “I need to hear you say it.”
“You’ll have it by midnight on Sunday next, Sterling, but not a moment sooner. And if you interfere before then or harm any of mine, then our agreement is forfeit.”
Sterling clapped his hands together and smiled. “Agreed! Well, you must be off then! Enjoy your…reprieve.”
Rutherford bowed quickly and retreated, remaining silent only with an act of iron will. He had the physical advantage, there was no denying it. But snapping the man’s neck and getting arrested for murder wasn’t how he intended to spend the remainder of his wedding day. He had seven days to find an answer before Sterling’s threats would turn to deadly action.
And Grace was waiting for him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The carriage arrived at the east side of the inn and Grace sat for a few extra moments to gather her courage. The last time she’d entered the Grove, she’d been a warmly welcomed caller but this time scandal had brought her to his doorstep. She dreaded the withdrawal of Mrs. Clay’s kindness and the disapproving looks she would have to endure.
“I’ve your things delivered and their man’s to take ‘em up,” the driver explained as he opened the carriage door. “Seems all set then, madam.”
“Madam.” Not a ‘Miss’ anymore…
Grace nodded and alighted, then had an anxious moment. “Your payment? I…”
“Ah, no! Don’t trouble yerself! Your husband paid for everything and generously at that!” The driver touched his hat. “Though I meant to say that it’s always good luck to deliver a bride to her happy home. I wish you joy, Mrs. Rutherford.”
Your husband. She smiled even as her eyes filled with tears. “You are the first to do so. Thank you.”
He climbed back up and drove off and Grace accepted that there was nothing to do but face the day. She went up the steps into the Grove, veil in hand, and walked into the small foyer only to find Mrs. Clay, her son and a few others in aprons and caps all awaiting her in an impromptu receiving line. The small staff had put matching flowers in their hair and caps and Tally was shyly holding a large bouquet of spring blooms.
Mrs. Clay bustled forward, the flower sprig in her own hair threatening to fall off her head at the speed of her approach. Without a word of warning, she swept Grace up into her arms and pressed her against her ample bosom. “There you are! A bride! Right here in the Grove and—what a blessing!”
“O-oh!” Grace answered shock making her eyes widen but the warmth of the landlady’s hold was like a balm to her soul and Grace’s hands reached up of their own accord to return a gentle echo of the embrace. “You are…too kind.”
Mrs. Clay let go. “But I’m crushing you! What a bother!” The woman laughed as she wiped her hands down the front of her apron. “Welcome to the Grove, Mrs. Rutherford!”
“Thank you, Mrs. Clay. Thank you to—all of you. This is so much more than I expected,” she said. “Or deserve.”
“Nonsense! This is only the beginning and I don’t mind saying, I’ve quite a lovely supper planned and Mrs. Watson outdid herself with a wedding cake to make angels applaud. She’s a dear friend and owns the fancy bakery nearby.” Mrs. Clay beamed as she spoke. “Come, let me introduce everyone so that when you the ring the bell, there is no chance of a stranger coming to your aid.”
Grace nodded, unable to answer for the raw emotions crowding her heart.
The landlady gave staff members’s name and added a complimentary quip or detail that made them all blush and smile at Grace. It was clear that Mrs. Clay mothered them all and that not a person in her employ didn’t bask in it. It was a blur for Gra
ce and while she recognized the tall blonde boy as Tally from her last visit when he handed over the bouquet, the rest would have to be repeated later. At the moment, it was all too much to take in.
“But, where is Mr. Rutherford?”
“He is—coming just behind in a separate carriage. My brother wished to share a toast with him but I was anxious…to be away and, I hope that doesn’t sound terrible.” Grace bit her lower lip.
“Not at all! Let’s get you upstairs and settled. Jack, take up her things right away.” Jack jumped to his duties with Tally behind him carrying two hatboxes and Mrs. Clay waved off the others. “Back to it, my dears. I’ll lead Mrs. Rutherford up myself and then come down and lend a hand with the pies.”
The maids and men dutifully scattered and Mrs. Clay led her up the stairs to the private first floor sitting room to linger while her trunks and boxes were tucked inside the room. The men retreated and Mrs. Clay waited at the doorway. “Here you are. Dear?”
Grace sat down on the chair by the unlit fireplace unsure of what to say.
Mrs. Clay’s smile wavered and her brow furrowed with concern. “Are you all right? Is it nerves? Are you…why when I married Mr. Clay, God rest his soul; I hid in a wardrobe for hours! I was quite scared thanks to my mother’s poorly worded advice about the wedding night and I was nearly prepared to spend the rest of my days in there with the coats and an old wool nightgown. Just me and the moths!”
Grace smiled since it was impossible not to. “Was Mr. Clay furious?”
“My Mr. Clay?! Never!” Mrs. Clay took the seat across from her as she laughed. “He pulled up a chair and sat near the door, talked about his dreams for the inn and spun such tales! I still think of the wonderful stories he told me that night…”
“I take it that you came out?” Grace asked softly.
“I did and never regretted it, I can tell you that!” Mrs. Clay sighed. “What pleasure that man gave me over the years!”
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