Diamonds and Dreams

by Rebecca Paisley

  Goldie heard and felt his sigh, noting he’d failed to answer her question. Distress rose up in her, but she refused to let it overcome her. Trust me, Goldie, he’d said to her. Trust me.

  She did. He wasn’t sighing because he didn’t want to marry her, she told herself firmly. He was sighing because...because the thought of wedding her was wonderful to him. Yes, that was it.

  It was her turn to sigh. She did so, in utmost pleasure. The man holding her so tenderly had never let her down before, and he wouldn’t now either. Her dreams...all her diamond dreams were really coming true this time.

  “I have to go now, Saber,” she said, smiling up at him.

  He ran his finger over her grin, then escorted her to the door. Opening it slightly, he peered down the hall, seeing no one about. “If either of the aunties catch you, pretend you’re sleepwalking.”

  She nodded and stepped into the hall. After giving him a last kiss on his chin, she began the trek back to her bedroom. But she’d only taken a few steps, when she turned to him again. “Saber,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “About thipstrit,” she murmured, grinning.

  “Yes? What does it mean?” He strained to hear her answer.

  “Anything you want it to. I made it up.”

  With that, she scurried down the hall, successfully making it to her bedroom without being seen.

  Saber watched her, his shoulders shaking with silent mirth, “Oh, Goldie,” he sputtered merrily as he went back into his bedroom, “life with you is going to be... Well, there will never be a dull moment. God, how I love you.”

  Ambling to his dresser, he lit a lamp, looked at his watch, and saw it was one o’clock in the morning. He was to pick up the ring tomorrow evening at six. That was seventeen hours away. Then there would be the hour he would need to make the trip back. Eighteen hours would have to pass before Goldie would become his betrothed.

  Eighteen eternities.

  * * *

  Dane stood in the shadows of the tall shrubbery on the corner of Pickering and Landon. The chilly night breeze swept past him, making him shiver. He pulled his hat low over his eyes, drew up the collar of his long black coat, and continued watching the house across the street.

  Why was Diggory taking so long? he wondered impatiently. The man had left to investigate the outside of the house fifteen minutes ago! Surely it didn’t take that long to discover the best way to break in.

  He calmed when he finally saw Diggory hurrying toward him. “Did you find a good way to get in?” he demanded, taking a step away from the stinking ruffian. “Do you foresee any problems?”

  Diggory shook his huge head. “There ain’t never no problems fer me, milord. The job’ll be easy an’ over real quick.”

  Satisfied, Dane reached up to smooth the hair at the nape of his neck, then began to walk toward the coach he’d rented and left down the street. But a sudden movement at an upstairs window of the house stilled him. Though the room was dark, the moon provided sufficient light for him to understand that someone had opened the draperies. He strained to see the person, but could make out little more than a shadowy form. In the next instant the person moved away.

  Dane smiled. Perhaps it had been Goldie Mae. Even if it hadn’t been, he knew the bitch was living in the house.

  Tomorrow night she would die in it.

  * * *

  Saber sat in the corner of the drawing room, watching Goldie. He felt sorry for her, but couldn’t think of a way to help her out of her predicament. The aunties were explaining the positions of servants this afternoon, and it was apparent to Saber that Goldie couldn’t have cared less. Feeling a touch of deviltry, he winked at her.

  Goldie’s eyes widened. Her heart began to flutter like a leaf in the wind.

  “All right, Goldie,” Clara said. “Lucille and I must be leaving for our engagement shortly, but we have a few minutes to go over this once again. Now if you are living in a country estate, tell me about the servants you would employ. Start with the most important of those, and work your way down.”

  Goldie twirled a curl around her finger, then began fidgeting with the fragile lace at the cuff of her sleeve. “Miss Clara,” she hedged, resisting the urge to look at Saber, “I’m never gonna live in a country estate. Why do I have to learn about the servants who—”

  “Because it is something every proper young lady should know,” Clara answered.

  Her mention of a proper young lady made Goldie think of last night. Daring to cast a shy glance at Saber, she remembered all the improper things they’d done, wishing they could do them again right now.

  Saber read her thoughts and blew her a kiss.

  Goldie squirmed in her chair. Great day Miss Agnes, if she didn’t stop looking at him, the aunties would surely figure out what was going on between her and Saber.

  Oh, but it was impossible not to watch him! Lord, he was so handsome. And so naughty, too. He knew full well what his crooked grins, sly winks, and sexy looks were doing to do her.

  The thought brought her a slight grin. If he could do this to her, she could do it back. Slowly, as if she were completely unaware of her actions, she lifted her hand to her breast. Laying her palm lightly upon it, she ran her thumb over it, then leisurely moved her hand down to her tiny waist. Finally, she allowed it to rest on her upper thigh.

  Seeing she had Saber’s full and undivided attention, she lifted her other hand to her chin. With her index finger, she touched her parted lips before smoothing her tongue over them. She almost laughed out loud at the desire that leaped suddenly into Saber’s wide eyes.

  Clara clapped twice. “The butler, housekeeper, and head cook lead the indoor staff, Goldie,” she snapped, glowering at Saber, who was watching Goldie with eyes that were far too hungry for Clara’s liking. “Under them are the footmen, assistant cooks, parlormaids, housemaids, nurserymaids, kitchenmaids, scullerymaids, dairymaids, laundresses, boot-boy, a doorkeeper, and a watchman. Female domestics come under the housekeeper’s authority, and the male servants are under the butler’s.”

  “And there is the lady’s maid, too,” Lucille added, also glaring at Saber. “She is in charge of her mistress’ wardrobe. She lays out clothes and helps her mistress dress. She washes, irons, mends, packs, and unpacks the clothes. Her other duties include lighting fires in the dressing room and bedroom, and also keeping those rooms tidy and well-swept. A lady’s maid should have the talents of a milliner, dressmaker, and a hairdresser. And it doesn’t hurt if she is a bit of a chemist. If she is, she can prepare cosmetics and remedies.”

  Goldie nodded without hearing a word. I love you, Saber, she told him with a look.

  Understanding her silent message, he inclined his head, then shifted in his chair when the aunties gave him another disapproving look. “I’m sorry,” he told them, “but can you not see how terribly bored Goldie is? It’s almost five o’clock, and the two of you have been at this for three hours already. Don’t you think it’s time—”

  “We’ve one more subject to cover, Saber, and cover it we will,” Clara announced. “Why don’t you go—”

  “I’m staying.” He looked at his watch, seeing that it was almost time for him to leave for the jeweler’s. Still, he had to think of some way to free Goldie from the henhouse.

  “Very well, Saber, but do behave yourself,” Clara chided, then turned back to Goldie. “My dear, let us discuss what is one of my favorite subjects—the Season. The Season, my dear, begins in May and ends in July. Most of Society is in London during the Season. People come for the gay round of social events, and to see friends they have not seen in months.”

  “One of the most important reasons for the Season,” Lucille explained, “is to give young men and women an opportunity to meet. It is quite exciting!”

  “Of course the men and women are strictly chaperoned,” Clara went on. “Chaperones see to it that a young man is allowed only to dance with a lady and escort her to her carriage. Beyond that, there is no
other physical contact.” She gave Saber another well-aimed glare.

  “Young ladies at balls should never dance more than two dances with the same gentleman,” Lucille stressed. “At private balls, a lady may not decline to dance with a gentleman who has asked her, but at a public ball, it is considered quite proper for her to dance only with those gentlemen she knows. Is that clear to you, my dear?”

  Goldie began to imagine how it would feel to be in Saber’s arms while he whirled her across a ballroom floor. She’d never learned to dance, but didn’t think it would be too difficult if Saber led her to do the right steps. “What if you’re at a dance with a man you love?” she asked, her gaze never leaving Saber’s. “What if just the thought of bein’ held by another man makes you sick to your stomach? What if—”

  “Goldie!” Clara exclaimed, aghast.

  “I think,” Saber began, standing, “that if a young lady is in the situation you describe, poppet, she should heed her instincts and pay not a speck of attention to any man other than the one she loves.” With that, he strolled to her, and picked up her hand. “Dance with me, Goldie love.”

  “Saber, this is ridiculous,” Lucille flared. “You—”

  “Just put your arms around me, poppet, and let me show you.”

  “But—But there’s no music,” she responded, mesmerized by the softness in his eyes.

  “Ah, then let us make our own.” When she slipped her arms around him, he held her in a slow waltz, dancing her toward the drawing-room door.

  “Saber!” Clara called angrily. “We are not finished with the lessons!”

  “Yes, Auntie, you are. I am rescuing Goldie from your clutches.”

  Clara stood. “And just where do you think you are taking her, may I ask?”

  Saber looked down into Goldie’s eyes. “I’m going to dance her into the foyer. And there, aunties, I am going to kiss her. If you don’t care to see such an immoral act, I suggest you remain in this room.”

  At his aunts’ astonished gasps, he waltzed Goldie into the entryway, stopping at the front door. As he promised he would, he bent to kiss her.

  When his lips met hers, she quivered in his arms. It was such a tender kiss, she thought. So sweet. It was as if it were made of light, like the twinkle in a baby’s eye.

  “I love you, Goldie,” he whispered, spreading more kisses across her cheeks. Releasing her, he looked at his watch, excitement charging through him when he saw it was finally time to leave for the jeweler’s. “While I’m gone, I’ll miss you. I have an errand to run, you must understand, and I have to go right now. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  “But Saber, I—Saber, tonight is the Chittin’don party. Please—”

  “Goldie, I already told you that we will not be attending.” He put on his coat and gloves.

  “But you said you still wanted to go to Hallensham and be Duke Marion. Saber, listen to me. Ever since last night when you mentioned how disappointed the villagers will be if they don’t see the duke, I’ve been thinkin’ about how right you were. Some of those villagers are real mean, but other ones aren’t. That farmer who tried to sell me his baby cow was real nice to me.”

  “Goldie—”

  “And before I left, lots of people were gettin’ together and plannin’ a homecomin’ festival. Hell, they’ve probably got the whole thing ready to go by now. And I bet they’ve spent their lifes’ savin’s on it, too. It’d be so ugly of us to let ’em down. Your bein’ the duke will be the last time they ever set eyes on their precious Marion, because the real duke’s not ever goin’ back there. It would mean so much to those people to see you. I owe ’em a duke, Saber, and you’re him. You’re gonna be everything they’re hopin’ to see. This Chittin’don thing is the best chance we’ve ever had to do the final part of the duke research! We’re gonna go, and that’s it.”

  “No, we aren’t, and that’s it.”

  “But—”

  “I can’t take you, poppet,” he said, tugging one of her curls. “I’ve something very important to do right now. However, when I return you and I will do something special together. I could arrange for us to have our own private party here if you like. It can be as elegant as you want it to be, and you may wear your new finery. Would you like that?”

  “Saber, please take me to the—”

  “We are not going to the Chittingdons’ tonight.”

  Frustration and fury fairly smothered her until a new thought came to mind. It so thrilled her, she was hard-pressed to keep Saber from seeing her excitement.

  “Is that the beginning of a smile I see?” he asked.

  Her grin grew broader by the second. “I—It’s all right, Saber,” she reassured him, swiping a speck of lint from the collar of his coat. “You go on and do your errand.”

  “So you truly don’t mind missing the get-together?” he asked, confused by her sudden pliability.

  She realized the necessity of acting upset and tried to cry. No tears came. Dammit, she usually cried at the drop of a hat, and now that she really needed some tears, she couldn’t find any! “I—Well, ‘course I mind,” she said, casting her eyes downward. “And I’m really mad at you, too. Mad as mad can be. But—But maybe I can get us invited to another party before we leave for Hallensham. Promise me here and now that if I can, you’ll go to it.”

  “We’ll see. Now, why don’t you get ready for our special night? Fern can be your lady’s maid. I’ll be back in about two hours.”

  She nodded and waved good-bye to him when he left. Grinning, she raced back to the drawing room. “Saber’s gone,” she informed the aunties. “And don’t go gettin’ all upset over the kiss he gave me. It was a sweet kiss, not the other kind. Well, I’m gonna go upstairs now. Have a good time at your engagement. ‘Bye!”

  With that, she tore into the foyer and bounded up the staircase. Once in her room, she closed her door, hurried to her closet, and began rummaging through her new gowns. “I’ll get ready all right, Saber West,” she mumbled to herself. “For my special night.”

  With a contented sigh, she brought forth a gorgeous gown of rich, honey-colored satin and russet lace. She thought it perfect for the Chittingdon dinner-dance.

  And since Saber wouldn’t be there to smile at her, she was positive she wouldn’t spill any food on it.

  Chapter Twenty

  As his coach stopped in front of the house, Saber took one last look at the gorgeous ring encased in the black velvet box. The jeweler had outdone himself. The ring exceeded Saber’s expectations, and he knew in his heart Goldie would adore it. Snapping the box closed, he slipped it into his waistcoat pocket, and quickly alighted from the carriage. Such excitement pounded through him that he could barely contain himself.

  Bennett met him at the door. “Good evening, sir,” he said, taking Saber’s coat.

  “Bennett, I want the fire stoked and lamps and tapers lit in the drawing room. See to it that there is a bottle of wine—No, champagne. Yes, bring champagne in there also. Miss Mae and I will be celebrating tonight, and I want no interruptions once I have escorted her into the parlor. Is that understood?”

  Bennett scowled. “Quite understood, sir, but...I—Was Miss Mae aware of the celebration?”

  Saber didn’t like the uncomfortable look on the butler’s face. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well—She’s not here, sir.”

  “What?”

  “No, sir. She left a little over an hour ago.”

  Instant fury left Saber speechless for a moment. “Where did she go?” he asked in a very low voice, already knowing full well where the wayward minx was.

  Bennett realized something was amiss, and wished he didn’t have to tattle on Goldie. “She said you could meet her there, sir,” he replied helplessly.

  Saber shuddered with rage. “She went to the Chittingdons’, didn’t she, Bennett?”

  “I—Yes, sir. She did. And allow me to tell you how beautiful she looked!”

  Saber closed his eyes, fighting foreboding.


  “Sir?” Bennett asked.

  Saber opened his eyes, grabbed his hat, coat, and gloves from the butler and stormed back outside, thankful that his coach and driver were still there. He snapped out instructions to the man, then jumped into the carriage, slamming the door so forcefully that the conveyance rattled.

  The coach jolted forward, the driver urging the horses into a fast canter. Saber glared at the passing streets, feeling more frantic by the moment. One question hammered repeatedly through his mind, filling him with wild, gut-wrenching apprehension.

  Who, exactly, would Goldie see when he arrived at the Chittingdons?

  Saber West, the common man she trusted?

  Or Marion Tremayne, the nobleman who had deceived her?

  * * *

  To Goldie’s way of thinking, dinner was proceeding smoothly. True, an extra place setting had to be provided for her at the last minute since she had failed to formally accept the Chittingdons’ invitation. But no one had seemed to mind too much. Lady Chittingdon, in fact, had gone on and on about how glad she was that Goldie had been able to attend, echoing her husband’s sentiment that any friend of Marion Tremayne’s was a welcome addition to their gatherings.

  Slipping the last bit of her fruit compote into her mouth, Goldie noticed one woman staring at her from across the table. She smiled at the lady, discomfited when her gesture of friendliness was returned with an icy, hateful look.

  Jillian Somerset decided the American girl was the most repulsive human being she’d ever had the extreme misfortune to meet. Why, the ignorant little thing had used her oyster fork for the entire meal, proclaiming the small utensil was the first one she’d ever used that fit so perfectly into her mouth! What Marion saw in the short, ugly, and mannerless chit was beyond her, but whatever it was, Jillian was determined to see to it that Marion’s interest quickly waned. She would begin bringing about those ends tonight. And the fact that Marion wasn’t here would make it all the easier.