Diamonds and Dreams

by Rebecca Paisley

  Addison pretended to wipe a drop of brandy off his mouth, and hid his grin behind his hand. Saber was about to explode with all the thoughts running through his muddled mind, and Addison realized he had but to sit quietly to hear everything. The thought of His Grace in such a state of confusion tickled him thoroughly. And all because of a freckle-faced imp from America!

  Saber stood, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and ambled to the window. “When she talks about such subjects as Beetle’s Elbow, wrist-kissing, freckles coming off on pillows, farmers selling calves, the blood that runs all over England, and breasts aflame... I never know from one moment to the next what she will say, what she will do. She keeps me in a constant state of amusement and anticipation. Well, what man could resist such an intriguing girl, Addison?”

  “Well, I—Breasts aflame?”

  “Goldie and I are together here in London because I need the diaries, and she wants to spy on dukes. Big has returned to Hallensham to take care of Asa. That is the extent of it, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with love. Now, is there anything else I can clear up for you?”

  “I—”

  “She’s a sad girl,” Saber murmured, staring out at the night. “She’s been abused for nearly her entire life.”

  Saber spoke in such a fragmented fashion, Addison was forced to take a moment to put his thoughts together. “Abused?”

  “Not physically, I don’t believe, but...God, I don’t really know. Attaining information from her is like trying to milk a bull.”

  Addison took another sip of brandy, watching Saber over the rim of the snifter. “And you’ve milked so many bulls in your life,” he said sarcastically.

  “I don’t know what to do.” Saber stiffened, clenched his jaw, and tightened his fists. “Addison, I don’t know what to do.”

  Addison couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew full well what it had taken for Saber to admit to such a thing. “About what?”

  “Her. Goldie. She—I—I don’t know what to do. Perhaps nothing. Nothing at all. Diamonds, dandelions. There’s no common link, you see. I can’t love her. I can’t. She’ll be returning to Hallensham, and I’ll stay here. Loving her—Allowing myself—It simply wouldn’t do. Maybe there’s not a speck of sense in even wondering about it.”

  “But perhaps there’s every reason in the world to give it your unmitigated concentration.”

  “I wish I knew how she felt.”

  “Ask her.”

  “No.”

  “Afraid of her answer?”

  Saber spun away from the window. “No. Yes. I—What did she do, Addison? How did she do it? Do you know I actually stopped the carriage and bought violets because the thought of her breathing such foul air infuriated me?”

  “No, I didn’t know that. How chivalrous of you, Saber.”

  “I’ve got my own blasted problems. Hutchins, Doyle, the situation at Ravenhurst, unraveling the mystery about Angelica... So why do I think about tea parlors? It enrages me that Imogene Tully threw Goldie out of hers.”

  Addison crossed his legs, fully prepared to allow Saber to ramble on to his heart’s delight. “A pox on Imogene Tully.” Whoever she is, he added silently.

  “And hats. I think about hats too.”

  “Hats are nice.” Addison grinned.

  “And so help me God, if I hear one person say anything about her that I deem insulting, I will—”

  “I didn’t notice the pistols at your sides. It would seem that you’ve become quite violent since last I saw you. Don’t get me wrong though. I rather like it. It’s topping to see the starch curtain has fallen.”

  “Curtains,” Saber repeated quietly, staring at empty space, at nothing. “Pink and white gingham. All those kittens she wants would probably climb those curtains, shredding them to pieces. And do you know she’s never had any perfume? She actually tried to make her own once. It made her smell like a pie. Imagine a girl as beautiful as she never having had a bottle of scent.”

  Addison’s grin split his face. “I have a sneaking suspicion she’ll soon have more than she could possibly wear in a lifetime. And I rather like the way pie smells.”

  Saber pulled down the cuffs of his sleeves and straightened. “I’ll be gone when she awakens in the morning, Addison. The first thing I want you to tell her is that you’ve learned Lord Tremayne is in Scotland. I’ve much to do on the morrow, and will see to her when I return.”

  “Where are you for?”

  “I’ll call on Tyler Escott, then visit Aunt Lucy and Aunt Clara.”

  “The aunties will enjoy having Goldie stay with them for a while. They like having someone to fuss over. I remember how sad they were when you stopped letting them mother you.”

  Deep in thought, Saber rubbed his chin. “Tell me, Addison, is your grandfather’s town house still in your possession? The one he used for...”

  “His mistresses,” Addison supplied with a grin. “Yes, it’s still mine. Why?”

  Saber folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll be living there for a while. If I recall, the house is situated well away from the fashionable parts of town, is it not?”

  “Grandfather had no wish to flaunt his affairs in front of his peers. The house is on the corner of Pickering and Landon. That’s not a slum, of course, but the area isn’t as desirable as this one. I’ve heard of several robberies around there recently. Are you sure—”

  “I am.”

  “Then you are welcome to it for as long as you have use for it. But may I ask why you want it? To the best of my knowledge your own house hasn’t burned to the ground. In fact, your aunts are in it, waiting for your return.”

  Saber shook his head. “But every member of the ton knows where Lord Tremayne lives. In your grandfather’s house, no one of significance will see me. Goldie and I will be staying there. I’ve already told her you bought it for me.”

  “I never knew how truly generous I was until I became your distant cousin,” Addison teased. “But Saber, you cannot mean to continue with this masquerade. This is London. When Goldie begins spying on the aristocracy, she’ll most likely want to drag you along with her. Someone will see you. You will not be able to hide your identity for long. Tell her the truth.”

  “No.”

  Addison frowned. “But—”

  “No. I will not tell her.”

  “Why?”

  Because I don’t want her to bow to me, Saber answered silently. “Addison, we discussed this at Leighwood. I refuse to risk the chance that Goldie might send word to Hallensham of having found me.”

  “If you told her what you know about Hutchins, I’m certain she would understand the need for discretion.”

  Saber secretly agreed. But he couldn’t make himself be honest with her. Not yet. It was too soon. He continued to crave that special something she gave, and once she knew who he was she’d be in awe of him. Just like every other unmarried woman in England. “I won’t tell her, and that is the end of it.”

  Addison sighed. “And if you do meet someone you know? What then?”

  “That won’t happen. Neither of us will be seen.”

  “You will if she insists on spying on dukes. To do that, she must be near the aristocracy. Someone will see—”

  “I am going to take her to all the places where dukish people may be seen. The theaters. The park. The opera houses. White’s. We will drive by those places in the carriage, and she may spy from the window.”

  “It won’t work.”

  “It will.”

  “What are you going to do? Lie down in the floor of the coach? Someone is going to see—”

  “Addison, it’s the only way around this outrageous plan of hers. I will not go gallivanting around London with her. Good God! Imagine my spying on my own fellow aristocrats! Knowing her, she’d have me peeking into their windows at night to see what sort of nightclothes they wear!”

  Addison laughed. “You forget that I know Goldie too, Saber. I cannot believe she will be content with
spying from a coach window. She’s going to want to get close enough to—”

  “I’m afraid she will not have her way on that account. Good night.”

  Saber left the room so quickly, Addison didn’t have the chance to return the sentiment. He poured himself another brandy, absently picking up Saber’s empty snifter. “What are your real reasons for not telling her who you are, old boy?” he murmured. “Tea parlors. Violets. Hats. Bull-milking. Dandelions and breezes...”

  Addison smiled broadly. “You can’t love her, eh, Saber?” Completely unable to help himself, he fell back into his chair, and laughed.

  And then he looked up, winked, and thanked God.

  * * *

  Seated in a huge leather chair, Saber looked around in Tyler Escott’s office while the investigator thumbed through one of the diaries. He’d already told the detective the entire story from beginning to end, and now waited to hear what the man thought. “Do you think it’s possible to somehow read the stained words? I realize many of them are completely obliterated, but some are merely smeared.”

  Tyler leaned over his desk. “I’ll do my best. Maybe by the time you get Dane Hutchins’ account books and William Doyle’s records to me, I’ll have deciphered some of these diary passages. I’ve met William Doyle, by the way. He and I attended the same dinner party about a year ago. He spoke highly of you and told me how much he enjoyed working for both you and your father.”

  Saber smirked at that.

  “Yes, well, at any rate, Lord Tremayne, continue with your masquerade, and by all means take up residence in your friend’s house. I think it’s a superb idea for all of London to believe you are in Scotland. I’ve no doubt that the fact Miss Mae is looking for you hasn’t set well with Hutchins. If he should come to London or contact Doyle, both men will be...uh, relieved to know you are not in the city. That, of course, is a measure of safety for Miss Mae, too.”

  “So you believe Hutchins and Doyle have committed the crimes.”

  “Of that there is no doubt in my mind. But I must find irrefutable evidence. Otherwise you cannot press charges.”

  “Of course.” Saber stared at the detective, needing to ask a question, but hesitant to hear its answer. “Tyler, Goldie’s in danger, isn’t she?”

  Tyler saw his client’s extreme anxiety and sought to soothe it as best he could. “I wouldn’t be overly concerned at this point. There is cause for suspecting many things, but I don’t like discussing mere conjecture. As I said, continue with the masquerade, and stay in your friend’s house. After all, if no one can find you, it will be next to impossible to find Miss Mae either. And let us not forget that Hutchins is obviously not a stupid man. He’ll think twice before leaving Ravenhurst in search of Miss Mae. Many people would see him leave the estate.”

  “And he’d be without an alibi,” Saber speculated.

  “Exactly.”

  Saber stood and shook Tyler’s hand. He realized many things had been left unsaid between them, but understood that that was the way the detective worked. Until the time came to discuss them, all suspicions would remain unmentioned. “I’ll be on the corner of Pickering and Landon should you need to contact me.”

  “Fine. But please do not think you can never leave the house. That wouldn’t be feasible at all, and from what you’ve told me about Miss Mae, I doubt very seriously that you could keep her locked up anyway. I only caution you against going to places where your acquaintances might see you. Places where members of nobility might be found. Stay away from those locations, and the fact that you are in London will most likely remain unknown.”

  Saber thought about Goldie’s determination to seek out dukes, and gave a great sigh. “I’ll try. Good day.”

  When his client was gone, Tyler returned to his desk, thinking about everything they had and hadn’t discussed. He glanced at the sack of diaries. Somehow, he had to force those little books to give up their secrets. The case went much deeper than uncovering Hutchins’ and Doyle’s theft. It was also a matter of Angelica Sheridan’s accidental fall down the staircase, and Tyler knew Marion Tremayne understood this too.

  That thought in mind, Tyler picked up a diary.

  * * *

  “Lucille, my dear,” Clara scolded gently, “you are twisting your bracelet again. If you do not stop, you are going to wrench your arm.” Primly, she touched her salt-and-pepper hair and smoothed her skirts with a wrinkled but very soft hand. Her twinkling blue eyes never leaving her sister, she patted her reticule, which was lying beside her.

  Lucille gave Clara an impatient look and let go of her bracelet. “I may twist my bracelet, Clara, but at least I don’t carry my reticule wherever I go. I only have mine when I’m leaving the house. You take yours from room to room. Why, it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that you sleep with it under your pillow!”

  Clara raised a brow and removed her hand from her bag.

  Smiling smugly, Lucille pushed her round, silver-rimmed spectacles back to the bridge of her nose, never noticing when they promptly slipped back down to her plump and rosy cheeks. “Besides,” she began, fingering her bracelet again, “I cannot help feeling anxious. Our boy is back in London! And with the girl no less! Oh, why isn’t Marion here yet? It isn’t that far from Addison’s house.”

  “We only just received his message. Do you think he has wings?” Clara slipped her reticule strings around her wrist, rose from the padded couch, and set to rights the arrangement of peacock feathers Margaret had knocked over. “Margaret, you naughty girl,” she said to the blond spaniel. “A lady takes care when she walks about a room. Where are your manners?”

  Margaret affected a soft whimper, earning a loving pat from Clara.

  “Do you think he’ll bring the girl with him?” Lucille asked excitedly, giving her bracelet a firm twist. “Addison said she’s really quite beautiful. Oh, Clara, do you think it presumptuous of me to wonder if our boy feels anything similar to affection for her? And why didn’t he bring her here last night? This is his home, after all. Do you suppose—”

  “I think, sister, that as soon as our boy arrives, he will deliver the answers to all our questions. But have a care not to overwhelm him the second he steps into the room, Lucille. He’s likely to be tired from his journey yesterday, and not inclined to—”

  “Good morning, aunties,” Saber greeted them from the doorway of the drawing room. “I see you received my message. How beautiful you both look. But you didn’t have to put on such finery for my sake. I’ve seen you both at your worst, and have continued loving you in spite of it.”

  Clara shook her head disapprovingly. “Marion, that’s positively an indecent thing to say.”

  Lucille patted her bright silver hair, then rose slowly from her tapestry chair. “And these gowns cannot be considered finery, Marion. Why, these are morning gowns, and only of sprigged muslin. But do you remember my blue velvet? That is finery, my boy. I wonder where that dress is? I haven’t worn it in so long.”

  “Lucille, you gave that gown to charity eight years ago,” Clara informed her sister. “Now do sit down, stop playing with your bracelet, and let’s hear what Marion has to say, shall we? Marion, where is the girl? I must tell you that it is quite distressing to me that you and Addison slept in the same house with her without proper chaperone.”

  “But Mrs. Stubbs—”

  “Is Addison’s housekeeper,” Clara finished for him.

  Saber smiled sheepishly and made himself comfortable on the padded satin sofa. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling no remorse whatsoever. “Now, aunties, I need your help.”

  “And you shall have it,” Lucille promised. “Is it help with the girl you need?” She leaned forward, presenting her good ear to him. “Why didn’t you bring her with you this morning? Addison informed us she is pleasing to the eye and kindhearted as well. Because of that I suppose we can forgive her for being American. The girl can’t very well help being from that country, now can she? One certainly cannot choose one’s birthplace,
and—”

  “Lucille,” Clara admonished. “You are chattering.”

  “You’ll like Goldie, Aunt Lucy,” Saber told her. “She chatters too.”

  “Well, that is all we need.” Clara threw up her hands, her reticule swinging from her wrist. “Two chatterboxes in the house. We’ve prepared the pink room for her, Marion. It is the room furthest away from yours,” she added, her meaning thinly veiled.

  “Does she like pink?” Lucille asked.

  He thought of the pink and white curtains. “Yes, I believe she does, but she won’t be staying in the pink room. She and I will be residing in Addison’s town house across the city.”

  “His grandfather’s?” Clara exclaimed. “Why, Marion, that will never do. You simply cannot be seen in that section of—” She broke off, her eyes widening, her hand clutching the bodice of her gown. “Did you say that you and Goldie would be residing there? Alone? Marion!”

  “Aunt Clara—”

  “You may be His Grace, the Duke of Ravenhurst, but in my eyes you are first and foremost my boy. And if you think—”

  “He’s my boy, too, Clara,” Lucille interjected.

  Clara took a deep breath, gathering patience. “Marion, you will not live with the girl alone. I forbid it.”

  Frowning, Saber stood and ambled around the room. “Aunties, I know that Addison has already enlightened you as to Goldie’s predicament, so I see no need to go into that. However—”

  “Is her uncle here too?” Lucille asked. “We can allow no drunkards in this house, Marion. It simply isn’t—”

  “Asa Mae remains in Hallensham to the best of my knowledge,” Saber answered.

  “And what of the little man who guards her?” Lucille queried. “That Huge.”

  “Big, Auntie,” Saber corrected. “Big Mann. He has returned to Hallensham to see to Asa. Now, what I need for the two of you to do is... Well, to put it very simply, I need you to lie.”