Diamonds & Deceit (25 page)

Rose came slowly down the stairs. Tomorrow was the wedding, and she would have to see Alexander. Unless, of course, he did not come.

The words she’d overheard still ached, like a bruise in her heart. She had thought she was loved for herself. But it seemed that even to him, she was just a housemaid—that being a housemaid was the most important thing about her, and always would be.

She paused on the landing, and looked at herself in the gilt-framed mirror that hung there, between a grand Titian canvas and a bust of the Emperor Augustus. Her eyes were the same, her face was the same, as when she had worn a maid’s uniform in this house. All that was different was the outside, the dress she wore, the gloves and the jewels. And yet that was all people saw.

The truth was clear to her. Even if he did propose, she could not accept. She could not marry someone who was only interested in what she was, not who she was. It felt almost a relief to have decided that.

Reaching the ground floor, she heard the gramophone blaring out ragtime and a rich male voice singing along with it. Astonished, she picked up her pace. She entered the drawing room and saw Sebastian, a bottle of champagne in one hand, waltzing with a cushion from the ottoman. She burst out laughing despite herself. “Sebastian!” she exclaimed. “What on earth has come over you?”

Sebastian turned round, beaming at her. “The very best of news. Oliver’s trial’s been put off—we hope to get him clear altogether. It should be possible. Good God, Rose, do you know who he is?” He was clearly dying to share his news. He dropped the cushion and vaulted over the ottoman to whisper in her ear. “Lord Hammerman’s son—you know, the banker. His real name’s Daniel, but I prefer Oliver—don’t you?”

“Lord Hammerman?” Rose exclaimed. The name was synonymous with gold, and with the Hammerman Ruby, presented to Queen Alexandra. “The one who died recently? So he’s not really a servant?”

“Far from it. His godfather’s the Lord Chief Justice.” Sebastian tossed down another glug of champagne and danced on the spot. “Have a glass with me, Rose, celebrate.”

“I daren’t,” she said, laughing and glancing at the door. “But that lady who came here—”

“His sister, Hannah Darford. She took her mother’s name when she began to practice law. A remarkable woman, I’ll say. It was all down to her that we managed it. I contacted her after Michael told me about a picture that he saw at Eton of someone who looked just like Oliver. Michael was right. It was Oliver. I raced down there, demanded to know who the lad was. ‘Oh yes, Daniel Hammerman. Expelled—awkward, rather.’ ” Sebastian lowered his voice. “Can you believe the story? He got into some entanglement with another boy, it all came out, they expelled him. His father disowned him, and Oliver decided to make his own way in life. But now old Hammerman’s dead, and his mother and sister are free of the tyrant. They’ll welcome Oliver back with open arms. Daniel, I should say. Damn it, I’ll never remember.”

“I’m so glad!” Rose exclaimed. “Everyone will be so pleased—not that they can know the truth, of course, though Ada might—”

“Ada!” Sebastian exclaimed. “Almost forgot the reason I came back. How is the old girl? Nervous?” He grinned. “It’ll be you to the altar next, I’m sure, won’t it? I hear Alexander Ross paid you particular attention this season.” Rose forced a smile. Sebastian looked at her more closely. “Is everything all right, Rose?”

“Of course. I’m so happy for you and Oliver. I truly am.” She trembled on the brink of telling him everything that was weighing on her, but Cooper’s slight cough interrupted her. She turned to the door. Cooper inclined his head.

“The Duke of Huntleigh,” he announced, as Alexander Ross entered the room.

Rose’s heart sank. She could not answer his warm smile, and was glad when Sebastian went forward to greet him first. It gave her a chance to collect herself.

“Good morning,” she said coolly when he turned back to her. “What a delightful surprise, we were not expecting you until tomorrow.”

“I wanted to speak to you in private.” He glanced at Sebastian.

“I think I’ll go for a walk,” said Sebastian at once. “A pleasure to see you, Huntleigh.” He went to the door, and as he stepped out, turned to raise an eyebrow at Rose. Rose knew what he was thinking, and couldn’t summon up a smile to answer him.

Alexander glanced at the chair. “May I sit down?”

“Of course,” Rose said awkwardly. She wished he would simply leave, and not give her the pain of this conversation. She crossed to the bell. “I shall ring for tea. It’s a long drive from London—no doubt you are thirsty.”

“Oh, don’t bother with that.” He waved a hand dismissively.

“Very well.” Rose returned to her chair. She seated herself upright on the very edge, painfully conscious of the contrast with the last time they had met.

“I think you know why I’ve come here,” he said. There was a note of excitement in his voice, and he quickly got up and strode about the room. “I never thought I would be a married man, but when you meet the right woman, it seems natural, doesn’t it?” He waited for her reply.

Rose did not respond. She did not trust herself to speak calmly.

He went on, sounding awkward, “I know I said I’d never do anything so conventional, but that is why we are so perfect for each other—you are anything but conventional, Rose.” He laughed. “My father would be turning in his grave if he knew I were to marry a housekeeper’s daughter.”

Rose flinched.

Alexander, not seeming to notice, went on. “I thought we could get married in Paris, then travel down to the south of France—see the places where the Impressionists painted, then on to Morocco, perhaps. We needn’t invite anyone unless you’d like to.”

“Excuse me,” Rose said, interrupting him. She was astonished at his arrogance. “I think you neglected to say something.”

Alexander looked startled, then he smiled. “Oh—of course. If you’d like me to do it the usual way.…” He got up and knelt on one knee in front of her. With what Rose thought of as a mocking flourish, he bowed, and said, “Lady Rose, will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?” He reached into his pocket and drew out a blue velvet box. He opened it, revealing a diamond ring set in an intricate white gold band. It was like a star in a blue velvet night.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he said. “From the parure. Will you marry me, Rose?”

Rose could control herself no longer. She started to her feet, trembling with anger and sorrow. “No. I will not.”

Alexander stared at her in astonishment. Slowly he got to his feet, as she went on.

“Your self-confidence—your condescension—is breathtaking. Did you not for one moment entertain the idea that I might not accept you?”

Alexander slowly put the ring back in his pocket. “Well—honestly, Rose, no I didn’t. I thought we understood each other.”

Rose tried to calm herself, to speak reasonably. “And I thought that you loved me.”

“I do!”

“No, Alexander. You are not seeking to marry me for love, but for hate. Hatred of your father.”

“I beg your pardon! How can you assume you know what I think, what I feel?” He sounded angry now too.

“I heard what you said to Lady Emily.”

“Lady Emily!” He sounded astonished. Rose, infuriated, opened her mouth to speak again, but he interrupted her. “Do you not realize that if you do not marry me, there will be no way out for you? Rose, for your own sake, for the sake of your reputation—”

“How dare you assume that I would marry you for that reason alone!” Rose could not hold back her fury.

“But—”

“I won’t marry just for reputation’s sake. And I am not merely a convenient way of rebelling against your father. I would not marry any man on those terms, and I will not marry you.”

She pushed past him and ran from the room.

“Rose,” Georgiana said, as she came out of the music room. “Did you see if the post has come yet—” But Rose hurried past her, a handkerchief pressed to her eyes. Georgiana’s voice died away, and she watched in astonishment as Rose ran up the stairs. A few moments later she heard a door slam.

Georgiana stood where she was, uncertain what to do. Part of her wanted to go after Rose, but a more urgent voice told her to go downstairs and see if Michael had replied to her letter. The instant she had posted it she had regretted wording it so harshly; but as the days passed she had decided she had not been half unkind enough. Priya, alone, pregnant and in London, was in the worst possible situation. The more she thought about it, the more furious with Michael Georgiana became.

“So stupid of him!” she exclaimed to herself as she went downstairs.

“E-excuse me, my lady.”

Georgiana turned as she heard the timid whisper. She hadn’t even noticed Annie standing in the hallway. It was so surprising to be spoken to first by a housemaid that she didn’t answer right away. Annie glanced left and right, then moved toward her.

“I’m sorry, my lady—but I have a message. From Master Michael.”

Georgiana took a step toward her at once. “From Michael?” she said in an undertone. “But why has he spoken to you? I don’t understand. Where is he? Is he coming home?”

“He is home, my lady. He asked me to let you know he was outside, in the kitchen garden. He didn’t want to come inside, for fear—”

“The coward!” Georgiana exclaimed. Annie shook her head.

“No, my lady, please—I wanted to speak to you before. I think I know what happened, Miss, to Priya. And it wasn’t Master Templeton. He swears it and I believe him.”

Georgiana looked her keenly, but Annie seemed distraught enough to be telling the truth.

“Then who—” She hesitated. She was aware that she had already hinted at far too much about Michael and Priya’s relationship, and she was wary of giving more away.

“My lady,” Annie whispered, twisting her hands nervously in her apron strings, “I have to tell you, for it’s been weighing on my conscience. Priya said something to me before she went to London. She was afraid, so afraid, and I just—” Annie broke off, looking desperate with remorse.

Georgiana turned cold. “Afraid of what?”

“Of Sir William, my lady.”

“Oh no,” Georgiana whispered. A wave of guilt swept over her. She should have known—she should have seen it. She was responsible for the staff. Could Priya have been hiding this secret all along? And Michael—she had promised him she would look after Priya.

“I must go out to him,” she said aloud. She turned to the door, leaving Annie standing where she was. Almost at a run, Georgiana hurried down the corridor and out into the courtyard, without pausing for her hat or gloves. When she saw the gate to the kitchen garden standing open, she broke into an outright run. She caught the wrought-iron gatepost and swung round it, almost into Michael’s arms. They gazed at each other, Georgiana breathing fast.

Michael was the first to speak. “I have to go to London, to look for her. I only wanted to see you to swear it wasn’t me. I haven’t slept since I got your letter, I came at once.”

His face was white and dirty, streaked with tears. There were smudges of oil on his Eton uniform.

“I couldn’t go to the house for fear of being caught and sent back to school. I’ve been lurking about here for hours until I found Annie.” He went on, his voice shaking with passion. “She told me about William. I’ll kill him.”

“Michael,” Georgiana began, frightened because she could see he was serious.

“You must tell me where he is.”

“Michael, no.” Georgiana was surprised by the authority in her own voice. She faced Michael commandingly. “What we must do is find Priya. That’s the most important thing. William can wait.”

“You’re right.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving grease marks. “I’ll go to London at once. Annie says she talked of going to look for a boat back to India, among the lascars in the East End.”

He turned away and began walking through the bushes in the direction of the road. Georgiana followed him, hurrying through the bushes, twigs and grit getting into her thin shoes.

“Wait—but how will you get to London? And—how did you get here?”

Michael turned to her, a thin smile touching his lips for the first time. “I stole a beak’s car. Headmaster’s, actually. Not really stole—I’ll bring it back.”

“Michael!” Despite her worry about Priya, Georgiana was scandalized and delighted. “They’ll expel you without a doubt.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except finding Priya—and killing William.”

Georgiana caught his arm, frightened by the determination in his voice. “You must let me come.”

“You?” Michael shook his head. “I’m sorry, but you’d be no use. Besides, your chest is bad. You’d catch your death of something in the East End, and your father would never forgive me.”

Georgiana swallowed her pain at his harsh voice. There was no sense in arguing now. Priya needed them. “Nonsense—my chest has been better for months now. Besides, if she’s going to the lascars, you’ll have to talk to them to find out about her. I don’t suppose you speak a word of Bengali.”

Michael opened his mouth, then shut it again.

“Exactly,” said Georgiana in triumph. “But I do. Our
ayah
was Bengali.” She paused an instant to let this settle in. “You need me, Michael. Now hurry up—let’s go.”