Diamonds and Dreams

by Rebecca Paisley

  Saber turned, his curiosity aroused. “Very well. Goldie has told me very little about herself. It’s what she doesn’t say that has significance. If I reveal to you what I know about her, will you do me the favor of telling me whether or not my conclusions are correct?”

  Big nodded.

  Saber inhaled deeply. “I’ve decided that Goldie has been mistreated since her parents died. I’m well aware her relationship with you is a good one, but what concerns me is the one she has with her uncle. I’ve learned that when he has been drinking, the man abuses her verbally. That persecution has left its scars. Too, other people have criticized and ridiculed her. Unjustly, I believe. She has a deep-seated fear of making people angry at her, and fairly shakes when she believes someone is cross with her. She has been tossed out of every place in which she’s lived, and though she tries to act as though it doesn’t bother her, I believe it hurts her very much.

  “In conclusion, Big, I believe Goldie is crying out for the acceptance she never receives. There’s a great sadness inside her, and although I don’t know the extent of what has caused it, I am reasonably certain that it stems from the fact that her years with Asa have been a series of broken dreams. Am I correct in my observations?”

  Big managed to conceal his tremendous satisfaction. He slid off the chair and walked to the door. “I’m leaving Leighwood, Saber. I came in here to tell you that. Goldie has expressed concern about what Asa is doing, and I think that if I go back to Hallensham and keep an eye on him for her, she’ll feel less anxious about staying with you and completing her plans. She will, of course, still worry some, but not as much.”

  When Big began to leave, Saver scowled. “You didn’t tell me if I’m right or wrong about—”

  “Nor will I.”

  “You said you would.”

  “Ah, but I didn’t say ‘Daddy’s honor.’”

  Saber struggled to contain his ire. “Big—”

  “I’m trusting you to take care of her, Saber, and I’m sure you’ll do everything you can to see that no harm comes to her. I must admit that when I first met you, I had many misgivings about you. I apologize for thinking ill of you. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to find Goldie and tell her of my decision.”

  “If I may ask,” Saber said quickly, “what have I done to earn your trust?”

  “It’s quite simple. You care about her.”

  “We are friends. Beyond that—”

  “There’s nothing wrong with friendship to my way of thinking. Do you disagree?” Big smiled.

  Saber decided he didn’t like Big’s knowing grin. “No. Of course not.” He thrust his fingers through his hair.

  “Then I’ll let you get to the diaries. I wish you better luck than I had with them. So many are ruined by water that trying to guess at the obliterated parts drove me crazy.” He began to leave, wanting to get away before Saber could continue questioning him. He had no intention of allowing Saber to know about his scheme.

  “Big, wait!” Saber called. “You—”

  “Saber, I must pack my things,” Big hurried to argue.

  “I understand that, but I—”

  “And I’ve yet to speak to Goldie.”

  “Of course, you must talk to her, but Big, I—”

  “Would you delay me?” Big fenced.

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Good day then.” With that, Big rushed out of the library and into the courtyard. Itchie Bon joined him, and together they looked at the distant barn, watching Goldie lead Dammit into the paddock.

  “Saber cares about her, boy,” Big informed the dog. “I had to know for sure, and now I do. Because he cares, he has succeeded in understanding the things she won’t tell him. A man who didn’t care would never have wasted the time or energy to do that.”

  He swallowed down the huge lump in his throat. “It’s time she needs with Saber, Itchie Bon. And what with her worry about Asa, she’s trying to rush things along so she can get back to Hallensham. I’m soothing that worry, and I hope to God I’m doing the right thing. Because you see, boy, I’m leaving her with the man who is either going to break her heart or make her feel like the true princess she is.”

  Chapter Ten

  William Doyle entered his room in the Cornwall Inn, locking the door behind him. He lit several lamps, then examined the deeds to the copper mines. A feeling of tremendous power seized him. He threw his shoulders back and swaggered across the room, stopping in front of a small mirror hanging on the wall. He felt extraordinarily pleased over his appearance and his accomplishments.

  “No one can stop you now,” he complimented himself, running a finger over his thick gray mustache. Not only did he own copper mines in Cornwall, he mused contentedly, but he also had iron mines in Norfolk and Stafford, shipyards in Essex and Devon, and a salt mine in Chester. Why, he even owned highly productive orchards in Hereford! And the most satisfactory part of it all, he thought with utter glee, was that he’d never used his own money to buy a thing.

  “Why should I?” he asked his reflection. “I have the Tremayne fortune at my disposal!”

  He crossed to the bed, removed his clothes, and lay down. His hands under his head, he stared at the ceiling and began to laugh. Surely there wasn’t a man in England as clever as he, he decided, still chuckling. Everyone trusted him; no one doubted he was on their side, looking after their best interests. Starting with Marion Tremayne’s father, he’d gained the confidence of everyone he’d ever needed.

  All the years of hard work and planning had been difficult, but he’d seen them through successfully. And now the time had finally come to bring his scheme to a fitting end. He had everything he required: ready cash, land, and highly profitable investments. After getting rid of the people who stood in his way, he’d sell his town house in London, buy a rambling country estate somewhere, and live the life of a wealthy gentleman.

  The thought brought Dane to mind. “Dane,” he murmured. How simple it was to manipulate the man! “You sincerely believe I’ve done everything for you, don’t you, Dane? There’s not a doubt in your mind that I’ve worked all these years so you could live in a mansion, enjoying the luxury you think is your due. You, a gentleman? Lord of an estate? For God’s sake, Dane! How idiotic can a man be? You were merely an instrument in my hands.” William roared with more laughter, the mattress shaking beneath his tremendous frame.

  Wiping a tear of merriment from the corner of his eye, he caressed his mustache again, and deliberated on the two people who had the means to expose him. Unfortunately for them, they’d never have the chance to do that.

  As soon as he tied up all the loose ends concerning the copper mines and investigated a few more business opportunities in Cornwall, he’d leave for Ravenhurst. Once there, he’d dispose of Dane.

  Then he’d hurry to London and deal with Marion Tremayne. He’d cause some kind of accident to befall His Grace, perhaps. Yes, an accident, he decided firmly.

  He knew how to make accidents happen.

  * * *

  Goldie paced in front of the library. Glancing at the huge grandfather clock down the corridor, she saw it was half past midnight. “How long are you gonna stay shut up in there, Saber?” she muttered to the library door.

  Ambling to the big velvet-draped window at the end of the hall, she peered out and saw the moonlit road Big had taken yesterday. “Yesterday. It seems like weeks, Big. Lord, how I miss you.” How afraid she felt without his reassuring presence! And what with Saber locked away in the library since Big had left, she’d had no one to talk to. She was beginning to feel as though she were the only person in the entire world.

  The thought made her angry. She wasn’t the only person in the world, and it was ridiculous for her to feel that way. She was well aware that Saber was avoiding her, but what did he think she was going to do? Throw herself into his arms and command him to fall in love with her?

  She marched away from the window and stared at the library door. “Enough’s enough
. There’s not gonna be anything romantic between us, but that doesn’t mean you can treat me like I don’t exist. And great day Miss Agnes, if I keep lettin’ you hide away from me, we’ll never get to London to start the duke research!” Her ire rising, she flung the door open.

  “You’ve been locked away in here long enough, Sab—”

  She broke off when she saw him. His face was shadowed with stubble. His eyes were red and bleary, black circles beneath them. His hair was mussed, his clothes rumpled.

  She’d never seen him so unkempt. Her heart turned over when she saw the pile of diaries in front of him. He’d done this to himself for her sake. Just so he could learn to be a duke. “Saber, you haven’t eaten,” she said softly. “Your hair, your clothes...”

  He looked up at her, saw the dismay in her eyes, and pushed his fingers through his hair. He was well aware of how he probably looked to her, but the many hours he’d spent poring over the diaries had proven successful. He’d learned a wealth of information already, and there were still many diaries he hadn’t touched yet. Of course there were also those with pages that were too badly stained to read. He now understood what Big had meant when he’d said trying to decipher them had driven him crazy.

  He ran his thumb over the one he held. “Goldie, do you know how your aunt learned to read and write?”

  “How?”

  “She wrote that she eavesdropped on Little Marion’s lessons. After her day’s work, she scurried home and practiced everything Marion had learned.”

  “She must have really wanted to learn, huh?”

  He nodded, his newly gained knowledge too much for him to contain. “And do you know why she never wrote to the duke to inform him about the pitiful wages his workers were receiving or of the sad shape of his tenants’ houses?”

  “Why?”

  He tossed the diary back to the pile. “Because Hutchins has made everyone in Hallensham believe Lord Tremayne doesn’t give a damn about what happens to them.”

  Goldie’s eyes widened. She’d never heard Saber curse before.

  “He’s been able to convince the villagers of this because he’s had help,” Saber continued, his voice deceptively calm. “Uh...I gather from what your aunt wrote that Marion Tremayne employs a man of business, William Doyle, who makes periodic trips from London to Ravenhurst. Your aunt wrote that this Doyle character backs up everything Hutchins tells the villagers. That is, that the duke has fairly washed his hands of them. That he is entirely too busy to cater to a bunch of complaining peasants. Because Doyle and Hutchins both worked for Lord Tremayne’s father, the villagers in Hallensham saw no reason to doubt their word. They still don’t.”

  Goldie ambled to his desk and sat on top of it. “But even if Aunt Delia believed Duke Ravenhurst forgot her, she forgave him. ‘Course I haven’t read all those diaries yet, but so far I haven’t found anything mean about him. She went right on lovin’ him just like she did when he was little.”

  That was true, Saber reflected, but it still tore at him to know that Delia had believed he’d forgotten about her. He thought about the many letters he’d written to her in care of Dane. “I—You know, Goldie, it’s possible Lord Tremayne did try and write to your aunt. If that’s so, Dane never forwarded the letters. That would explain why Delia didn’t correspond with His Grace. She thought he wasn’t interested.”

  “I bet you a zillion dollars that’s what happened.”

  A lump formed in his throat at her statement. “Is that really what you think, Goldie?” he asked, wanting desperately to know her feelings. “You don’t really believe Lord Tremayne turned his back on the villagers?”

  “No,” she answered unhesitatingly. “His Dukeship was a good boy when he was little. His parents were good, too. I think Dane just took advantage of Duke Marion’s promise to never come back to Ravenhurst.”

  Saber felt like pulling her off the desk and kissing her breathless. Her faith in the man she didn’t think she’d ever met warmed him all over. He managed to subdue the urge to take her into his arms, but couldn’t quite ignore the heat curling through his loins. It remained, a silent, but powerful reminder of his attraction to her. “I’m sure the duke would be touched to know how you feel about him.”

  Realizing his emotions were spilling from his eyes, he skimmed another diary, smiling at the lines he read. Not only had the books opened his eyes to some of Hutchins’ and Doyle’s activities, they’d opened the door to his childhood as well. He’d been taken back to those years. He’d been with Delia again, reliving all the wonderful things he’d done as a boy that were recorded in the precious little books.

  Marion rescued a baby bird this morning, he read. He climbed the tree and put the bird back into its nest. Saber remembered that day clearly. After he’d returned the bird to its mother, he’d fallen out of the tree and twisted his ankle. Delia had baked him a cake as reward for his bravery.

  “Saber, I didn’t mean for you to read every one of the diaries without stoppin’,” Goldie told him.

  Little Dora Mashburn stole half of Marion’s apple this afternoon. Saber read on. He came home and—The words were water-stained after that, but Saber had no need to guess at them. He remembered exactly what he’d done after Dora had stolen his apple. He’d gone home and drawn a picture of her, complete with horns and a pitchfork.

  Goldie pushed herself closer to Saber and gave his hand a little nudge. “I need to talk to you.” She tried to suppress the warm feeling his nearness brought to her, but failed miserably. His fragrant, masculine scent made her tremble, the sight of his muscles, straining against his snug shirt, sent that sweet ache seeping through her. She longed to reach out and touch the disorderly mass of black curls on his head.

  “Saber?”

  He closed the diary. “I’ve been reading these at random,” he told her, hopelessly lost in a valley of memories. “There are so many, I didn’t know which one to read first. And your aunt’s handwriting is so small, it takes almost an hour to get through a few pages. I’m reading bits from the ones that aren’t too badly stained.” He picked up another one and began reading again. The harvest was bountiful. It’s the best Ravenhurst has had in years. Absently, Saber glanced at the year recorded in the top left-hand corner of the page.

  Last year, he mused. And last year, Dane had reported an extensive loss. Doyle, too, had described a dismal situation. It was yet more proof.

  “Y’see,” Goldie continued, “we’re goin’ to London, Saber. I meant to tell you about my London plans earlier, but—Well, you turn into such an ill-box over the duke lessons sometimes, that I was sorta afraid to tell you that I wanted us to go to London for duke research. There’s really no reason why we should stay here at Leighwood any longer. I’ve shown you how to walk and talk. We’ve practiced eatin’, wheezin’, and snortin’. We have the wig and the cane. In London we’ll find out more stuff about dukes. Dukes are crawlin’ all over London, y’know. We’ll spy on ’em and pick up a few more things we need to practice. And we can keep on readin’ the diaries in the city.”

  Vaguely, Saber heard her rambling. He tore his gaze from the diary and looked at her again. “This Hutchins and Doyle should be punished for what they’ve done.” And how I will relish meting out that punishment, he added silently.

  Goldie realized he hadn’t heard a word she’d said, nor did he even really see her. She gave his hand another nudge. “I said we’re goin’ to London. We’ll spy on dukes there. It’ll take about a month or so, I reckon.”

  Saber nodded absently and deliberated. He decided he needed to review the accounting books Hutchins sent to him. Too, he would review Doyle’s reports. And he would hire Tyler Escott, the best detective in England, to assist him with the task. Perhaps Tyler could even figure out a few of the illegible words in the diaries. And Tyler would probably make a trip to Ravenhurst to observe the situation for himself. After that, Saber was sure there would be enough evidence to put Doyle and Hutchins behind bars for the rest of their lives. />
  “How long do you think it’ll take us to get to London, Saber?” Goldie asked. “Is it far away from here? And do you think the owner of this here estate would mind if we borrowed that fancy carriage he’s got out there in that coach house? I’ve never ridden in one before, y’know. And I saw the villagers down yonder takin’ care of some horses in a pasture. Maybe we could borrow the horses too. We could tie Dammit and Yardley to the back of the coach. Say yes?”

  Saber looked back down at the diary, remembering that Hutchins’ account books were in London. Every book from the past twenty years was in the city. So were Doyle’s reports. For that matter, so was Tyler Escott. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “What did you say, Goldie?”

  She watched him pick up another diary. He opened it and began reading. With a heavy sigh, she did likewise. “‘Miss Angelica,’” she read. “Oh, I’ve never read this one before,” she told Saber, her eyes still skimming the page. “Too bad it’s so stained. Only a few words left that I can read.”

  Saber’s head snapped up. “What was that about Angelica?” he asked, his heart pounding.

  She glanced back down at the page. “The only understandable words are ‘Angelica,’ and somethin’ that looks like ‘ring.’”

  “Let me see it.” He took the book from her, a mixture of frustration and anguish rolling through him when he saw how impossible the entry was to make out. He turned a few pages, reading more single words. “‘Angelica,’ “ he read again. “‘Roses.’”

  “Roses?” Goldie echoed. “Angelica planted a whole garden of roses for Duke Marion, y’know. They don’t bloom though. Legend has it they won’t flower until the duke finds true love again. Sad story, that one.”

  Saber continued to read. “‘Miss Angelica and I laughed at—’” He could read the obliterated passage no further.

  “Wonder what they were laughin’ at?” Goldie mused aloud. “Let’s see. Angelica. Ring. Roses. She and Aunt Delia laughin’ at somethin’. Maybe Angelica planted the roses in a ring, and it looked so dumb that she and Aunt Delia laughed at it,” she suggested.