Diamonds and Dreams (4 page)

Nothing Big could think of would induce him
to tell Asa Mae about her savings. The bastard would steal it from
her and spend it all on drink. “All right, Goldie, let’s pretend
your plan is foolproof. Just where do you propose to find your
Marion W. S. Tremayne?”

“Well, at dawn tomorrow—”

“Tomorrow? You just told Hutchins it would
be two weeks before—”

“I lied because he yelled at me.” She tilted
her chin up and folded her arms across her breasts. “Y’know how I
hate it when folks yell at me, Big. He deserved to be lied to.
We’re leavin’ tomorrow mornin’. We’ll just keep on travelin’
till—”

“
We?”
Big scrambled up from his seat
so quickly he lost his footing and tumbled to the ground.
“Goldie—”

“Big, why’d you fling yourself into the
dirt?”

Big stood and slapped soil off his knees and
elbows. “I always pitch myself down when I’m happy! And your scheme
has made me just delirious with joy!”

“Oh, Big.” Goldie smiled and shook her head
over his sass. “You have to go with me, y’know. What if someone
tries to get me while I’m on the road? They have lots of highwaymen
here in England. Mildred Fickle told me all about ’em. Would you be
able to sleep at night knowin’ I was out there at the mercy of
those dreaded English highwaymen? They wear these black capes and
boots, ride black horses, and they carry these long, vicious
swords! What if one gets me? What if—”

“All right, all right! But—’”

“We’ll have a weapon too, Big. Diaries
aren’t the only things Aunt Delia kept. She’s got her own sword in
there, and I mean to tell you it’s the biggest thing you ever saw.
She wrote that it’s a Scottish claymore. Belonged to somebody in
her family. The thing’s so big, I can’t hardly lift it. But see,
the size alone will scare any dreaded English highwaymen who try to
get us. I’ll just sorta let it hang off Dammit’s saddle in a
warnin’ kinda way.”

“Thank you, Goldie. I can’t think of the
last time I felt so safe.” Big shook his head again.

She nodded and tapped her chin with her
finger. “I’ll leave a note to Uncle Asa tellin’ him that we went to
get ole Marion. It’s better that he doesn’t know about my real
plans because of the kind of mouth he has when he’s drinkin’. I’ve
gotta find the man somewhere faraway, y’see. I can’t take the
chance of pickin’ some commoner that one of the villagers knows.
When I find him, I reckon I’ll need about two months or so to teach
him duke stuff. Then I’ll—”

“Which brings me to another question. How
can you give him duke lessons when you know nothing about the
English aristocracy?” Big sat back down and drummed his fingers on
his knee.

“Big, you do love to ask picky questions,
don’t you?” Goldie sighed, then continued before he could reply.
“Mildred Fickle knew, and so did Aunt Delia. There are all sorts of
noble-folk descriptions in her diaries. See, other dukish people
used to come visit the Tremaynes. Aunt Delia wrote all about ’em.
‘Course, a lot of what she wrote is messed up by those water stains
I told you about, but I can guess at what I can’t read. Y’know what
a good guesser I am, Big. And Mildred Fickle said noble people
sniff each bite of food before they eat it. She said that custom
probably came from back when noble people were always gettin’
poisoned by their enemies. Smellin’ his food will be the first
thing I teach my duke. Yeah, food-sniffin’ is high on the list for
duke requirements. And ‘course we’ll get glimpses of
real
dukes when we get to London.”

“London!” Big bolted to his feet again.

“Well, of course
London
!” She turned
toward the fields and held her arms open wide as if embracing the
distant city. “Big, we have lots of duke research to do! What
better place to do it? All those bluebloods congregate there,
and—Do you think their blood is really blue?”

Big was so exasperated he couldn’t
answer.

Goldie hugged herself, supremely proud of
her grand plan. “After we’ve learned all we can from our
duke-spyin’ in London, we’ll come back here. By that time I hope
I’ll have figured out what to do about a fancy carriage and horses
to pull it. We’ll—”

“Goldie!” Asa shouted from inside the
cottage. “Where the hell are you, you worthless, good-for-nothin’
twit! I want my damn dinner, and I don’t see a blasted thing in
here cookin’! Goldie!”

Big’s heart lurched when he saw the pink in
her cheeks pale. “Goldie, don’t you listen to him. You—”

“It’s all right, Big,” she squeaked, turning
away so he wouldn’t see her tears. “I gotta go. He’s probably got
him one of his day-after headaches, and y’know how frenzied he gets
when he’s feelin’ low and hungry at the same time.” She hurried to
the door, but turned back to Big before she opened it.

“Big,” she began, chewing her bottom lip.
“I’ve got to find my common man just as fast as I can. There’s just
no tellin’ what kinda trouble Uncle Asa’ll get into while I’m gone.
I’ll have to get back to Hallensham as soon as I’ve got Duke
Marion. Big...I could really use your help, but you never did say
if you’d give it to me or not. I’m gonna go through with the plan
no matter if you go with me or not, but—Big, will you help me?”

He gazed into Goldie’s huge, amber eyes and
saw her hope. “We’ll find your Duke Ravenhurst, Goldie. If we have
to scour all of England, we’ll find him that damn blueblood.”

She let go of the doorknob and gave him an
impulsive hug.

“Now, now,” Big said, embarrassed, “go get
Asa’s dinner or there’ll be hell to pay.”

She smiled and turned back to the door. “Oh,
by the way, the new word for the day is
risible
. It means
‘capable of laughing.’ So if someone has a sense of humor, I reckon
you could say he’s
risible
.” With that, she disappeared into
the cottage.

Big sighed. Goldie loved learning new words,
and found a new one every day in her precious dictionary. She made
Big learn them too. It was rare when either one of them remembered
to use the words, but that never deterred Goldie. “Risible,” he
muttered down to Runt, who was nipping his pant leg. “I wish I were
more risible. It would make these wild plans she’s dreamed up a
whole lot easier to take.”

He looked out at the countryside and thought
about all she’d told him. “Duke lessons, Runt. Food-sniffing of all
things! Lord have mercy, I don’t know who to feel sorrier
for—Goldie or her duke.”

Saber cringed. The loud, grating noise of
the curtains being jerked across their brass rods sounded like
great shards of shattering glass crunching into his eardrums. Sharp
swords of bright sunlight stabbed through his eyelids, blinding
him. His head felt like a ripe melon that had just been smashed,
and the more he concentrated on that thought, the more vivid it
became in his mind.

“The weather’s set fair, Saber. Perfect for
traveling.”

Saber didn’t have to open his eyes or even
recognize the voice to know who was speaking to him. Only Addison
Gage would dare disturb him in such a rude fashion. “Addison, get
out,” he ordered, his voice muffled in his satin pillow.

Addison grinned and released the dark blue
velvet drapes. He picked up a porcelain pitcher and sauntered to
the thickly carpeted dais upon which Saber’s bed stood. Reaching
for a corner of the downy blue coverlet, he yanked it off. “I say!”
he exclaimed, chuckling. “Look at that! Lord Marion Westbrook
Saberfield Tremayne, the wealthiest, most powerful, most envied,
most sought-after bachelor in all of England. There he lies in all
his naked, noble, and
painful
splendor. Could it be that you
had a night that wasn’t at all the thing?”

“Get out,” Saber repeated, searching without
success for his covers.

Smiling, Addison raised the pitcher of cold
water. With one swift motion he emptied it upon Saber’s bare
flesh.

“What the—” Saber bolted out of the bed,
water streaming from his hair and into his eyes. He shuddered both
with anger and cold. “Addison, I swear—”

“It’s one o’clock, Saber, and you’re yet
lying in. You’re supposed to be dressed and prepared to depart. The
boys will be here straightaway, and I fear they will not show the
same benevolence I have. They’ll drag you naked and screaming into
the coach. Unless you’ve the irresistible desire for all of London
to witness such a spectacle, I’d suggest you show a leg and put
yourself right.”

Saber struggled to understand what his
friend was talking about, but the only thing he could comprehend
was that every nerve in his body was throbbing with a dull and
constant pain only more sleep could alleviate. “Addison, you are a
thundering nuisance. If this is your idea of a lark, I must warn
you it is most assuredly not mine. I’ll give you five seconds to
remove your obnoxious person from my room. Go a second over that
time, and I’ll—”

“Tsk, tsk. My, how you do take on. You’ve
obviously forgotten that you are under
my
command now. Mine
and the boys’. Beginning at noon today—which was an hour ago—you
are to be our slave for two weeks. We’ll be spending those fourteen
delightful days at Leighwood. And that, Saber, my friend, is the
top and bottom of it.”

Saber yanked his robe on and frowned.
Leighwood was one of his four country estates, the others being
Ravenhurst, Wellsbourne, and Mellenshire. Two weeks at Leighwood
with Addison, Winston, Kenneth, and David, the rowdiest bunch of
noble jokers in all of England? He couldn’t think of a more
irritating way to spend a fortnight.

Massaging his temples, he sat on the bed,
the slight bend of the mattress reminding him of a vessel on a
storm-tossed sea. He wished he could bury himself in the sheets
again, but was now wide awake, his mind already working on what he
had planned for the day. “Addison, I have no idea what you’re
talking about, I’ve no intention of going to Leighwood, and as far
as my being your slave... I cannot remember the last time I heard
anything as ludicrous. Aside from that, I cannot leave London now.
I’ve a meeting with several people concerning an investment
in—”

“I’m afraid you’ll be forced to give it a
miss, old boy,” Addison said, patting his blond hair. “Really,
Saber, you’ve got so much money now that you couldn’t spend it all
in three lifetimes. But if it’s an even grander fortune you want,
why not let others earn it for you? Making it yourself is rather
like keeping a dog and barking yourself, is it not? And it’s so
unseemly for a gentleman of your status to work.”

Saber narrowed his eyes. “I know of no one
in this entire country who would so much as
whisper
an
insult concerning anything I choose to do. No one, Addison, except
you. And I don’t make my investments to earn money. I do it to keep
boredom at bay, and I don’t consider it
work
. Unlike you, I
find little diversion in attending endless and monotonous Society
assemblies.”

“Saber, my friend, you’ve forgotten what
real diversion is. You’ve been hiding behind that stuffy facade of
yours for five years. Hence, it’s been five years since I’ve heard
you laugh, five years since—”

“Get out.”

“I see I must refresh your memory about who
is giving the orders now.” Addison swiped at a speck of dust on his
coat sleeve and proceeded to a small table, upon which two cups
sat, one filled with his tea, the other containing black coffee for
Saber. After taking a sip of tea, he set the cup down, brushed at
his sleeve again, and burst into loud laughter. “God, this is rich!
You, the Duke of Ravenhurst, slave for two weeks!”

“Addison—”

“Last night at Winston’s—You
do
remember supping there with us, do you not?”

Saber snatched his sheet from the floor and
dried his face with it. He strode to a huge, gilt-framed mirror and
grimaced at his reflection. Black strings of his hair were
plastered to his forehead and cheeks. His green eyes were
bloodshot. He closed them against the sting for a moment, then
turned and faced Addison again. “I remember arriving and eating.
Judging by that telltale twinkle in your eyes, I imagine much more
went on as the evening progressed, but I cannot fathom the final
outcome.”

“We were all in our cups, Saber.
You
were deeper in yours than the rest of us. You were fairly drowning
in it, actually. And since you rarely indulge, it didn’t take much
to get you completely sodden. You cannot imagine the good it did me
to see you in such a state. It was positively topping to see you
without your starched shirt on.”

“Why do I have the feeling that it did
me
no good at all?”

“Well, you were itching for a bet and said
you didn’t care what it entailed. Good friends that we are, we
thought one up and bet you couldn’t make Winston’s Uncle Horatio
laugh. You accepted the challenge and—”

“I bet no such thing. There’s no one in the
entire world who can make that cantankerous man
smile
, much
less laugh. I did not bet—”

“Ah, but you
did
. You said you’d make
him laugh. The wager was that if you did, the boys and I would be
your willing slaves at Leighwood for two weeks. If you lost,
you’d
be the slave. You were deliriously excited about the
prospect at having the four of us at your beck and call, but to be
perfectly honest, Saber, we knew you’d lose. It was almost four
o’clock in the morning when you stumbled up the stairs and
staggered into Lord Alders’ bedroom. Once you were hovering over
his bed your candle wavered, and you dropped hot wax on his very
tender...very bare backside. He sleeps in the buff. A fact you
revealed to us all last night.”

Saber’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Addison,
tell me you’re making this up, and that it’s only another one of
your annoying pranks.”