Diamonds and Dreams (49 page)

Finally satisfied, Addison nodded and
crossed his legs. “Are you aware that every member of polite
society knows you are in London?”

“I thought it would happen. But no one knows
where I’m living. If and when Doyle returns, he won’t be able to
find me either. How did you come about the news that I’ve returned
from Scotland?”

Addison smiled at the absurd question. “I
was at White’s last night, and your name was on everyone’s tongue.
There is also talk about the vivacious young woman you are
escorting about. A writer from America who is researching the
English nobility for a book she is writing. The women in question
couldn’t possibly be our Goldie, could it?” he asked,
chuckling.

Goldie.
Saber mused. There was no
need for him to bring her image to mind, for it never left.

Goldie.
When was the last time he’d
held her? Kissed her?

Made love to her?

He frowned. Aunt Clara and Aunt Lucy were
never far from Goldie’s side. They were like two fierce,
sharp-beaked hens watching over their innocent little chick. Why,
he couldn’t even send Goldie a suggestive look without one of them
pecking at him! Dammit, they’d gone so far as to put Margaret in
her room at night, and the confounded dog barked every time someone
walked past her door!

Considering all that, what was a
rooster...er, man to do?

“I say, Saber,” Addison said. “The look in
your eyes could crack a rock in two. Why are you pulling such a
face?”

Saber brought Addison into focus. “Let us
just say I was pitying a rooster’s lot in life.”

“Rooster? What—”

“As for the gossip about the vivacious girl
I am escorting about, yes, it is indeed our Goldie. The entire
thing happened just as she hoped it would. Lord Chittingdon spotted
me, and called me ‘Marion.’ Goldie was with me, and of course
launched into one of her famous bouts of
vivacious
chatter.
She nattered on and on until I was finally able to stop her.
Anyway, the fact that Lord Chittingdon called me by my real name
reinforced Goldie’s belief that we can fool everyone into thinking
I’m the one and only Lord Tremayne.”

Addison laughed loudly. “Yes, well, it is
also known you will be attending the Chittingdon affair tomorrow
night. There’s been much speculation about that. People are quite
amazed that you accepted the invitation as it’s been years since
you attended a single gathering.”

“Their amazement will fade very soon. I have
no intention of going. Goldie will be very disappointed, but—”

“Goldie is not the only one who will be
disappointed. Jillian Somerset will be, too. She’s called on you,
Saber. She went to your house, only to be told by your butler that
you were not in residence. Since she’d already heard that you’d
been seen in London, she knew you had to be somewhere in the city.
Hence, she came to me for information. I told her I was not your
keeper and had no idea where you were. She knew I was lying, and
left my house in a rage.”

Saber tilted his head back, staring at the
ceiling. “I’m to see her shortly. I sent a message to her earlier,
advising her that I’d be calling on her.”

“Why are you seeing her?” Addison asked,
none too nicely.

Saber smiled at the ceiling. “I—”

“Marion,” Clara said as she entered the
room. “I have been assisting Goldie with trying on a few of the
gowns you gave her a few days ago. While we were doing that, she
brought it to my attention that you have objections to taking her
to the Chittingdon affair. I have heard the whole story from her,
and I understand it from beginning to end. However, I don’t see why
you cannot play along and pretend to be Lord Tremayne, who, in
truth, you
are
.”

“Aunt Clara—”

“Moreover,” Clara continued sternly, “most
people have undoubtedly heard that you are in the city, so what
further need is there to continue hiding away from everyone? It
would mean the entire world to that sweet child to be able to
attend the assembly. And the Chittingdons are lovely people. I can
assure you they will treat her as an honored guest. Lucille and I,
unfortunately, will be unable to attend as we have a previously
accepted engagement elsewhere. But Goldie has made wonderful
progress with her etiquette. Provided you teach her how to dance
and she remembers what we have taught her, she should have not a
speck of trouble.”

“Aunt Clara, the fact that I am not
attending the affair has nothing whatsoever to do with her
manners,” Saber announced.

Addison noted the adamant expression in
Saber’s eyes. “As Miss Clara said, everyone already knows you’re in
the city, Saber. So I see no reason why you—”

“This was to be between Goldie and myself,”
Saber growled. “But since the two of you are obviously not about to
cease badgering me, I may as well tell you.”

“Yes, you may as well,” Addison agreed,
leaning forward in his chair.

Saber cast him a withering look, then turned
to Clara. “Auntie, you did not see a single ring in the jewelry I
gave Goldie a few days past, did you?”

She took a moment to think. “No, I don’t
believe I did.”

“Nor did you see a single diamond.”

Clara frowned. “No.”

“I did, however, buy her a ring. With
diamonds.” He waited for his meaning to sink in.

Addison leaped from his chair. “You
mean...”

“I do. I am going to ask Goldie if she will
do me the honor of becoming my wife. The diamonds I bought her are
very special. Rare. They are being cut to my exact specifications.
When the jeweler has completed that task, they will be set in a
ring of my own design. I’ve promised the man a tidy sum for his
cooperation in getting the ring to me as soon as possible, but I’ve
yet to hear from him.”

Clara began to cry. “You’re finally going to
have a duchess!” she sniffled, digging into her reticule for a
handkerchief. “And soon... Soon, you and Goldie will have children,
and Lucille and I will be great-aunts! Oh, what a beautiful
thought, Marion!”

Saber rolled his eyes. “Aunt Clara, get hold
of yourself.”

Slowly, Addison sat back down. “You love
her,” he whispered, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

Saber felt a tender warmth filter through
him. “Yes.”

Addison remained silent for a long moment.
“But Saber, what does a ring have to do with your not attending the
Chittingdon assembly?” he finally asked, completely unable to stop
grinning. “It seems to me you would be anxious to introduce Goldie
as your fiancé.”

Saber tried to control his anxiety. “I
haven’t proposed yet, Addison. She might not accept.”

Clara dabbed at her eyes. “Well, of course
she’ll accept, Marion. She loves you.”

“Did she tell you so?” Saber demanded. “Did
she say—”

“Well, no. But why wouldn’t she? Every
unmarried girl I can think of is in love with you. They have been
for years. You’re the most eligible and desirable bachelor in—”

“But they all know me to be the Duke of
Ravenhurst,” Saber said softly.

Clara fell silent, realizing the
significance of his statement.

Addison’s heart went out to his friend. “You
want her to accept Saber West’s proposal, and not Lord
Tremayne’s.”

Saber stared at the rug. “I—You could never
understand how important it is to me.”

Clara’s tears began again. “I think we do,
my boy.”

Saber stood. “If I attend the Chittingdon
affair, something may happen that will reveal my secret. Someone
might say something that would make Goldie suspicious. I realize
she wants desperately to go, and I cannot stand the thought of
disappointing her. If she agrees to marry me, I’ll take her to
court if she wishes to go. But for now... I—The ring. I want to
offer her the ring first.”

And if she accepted it, he reflected
anxiously, he would make Ravenhurst their home. She would be his
duchess, and as such she’d belong on his ducal lands. Ever since
he’d come to the realization he loved her, he’d dwelled on his
possible return to Ravenhurst, soon discovering the idea wasn’t
painful anymore.

After all, Goldie would be by his side, and
that made all the difference.

Addison saw the faraway look in his friend’s
eyes, and wondered about it. “Saber?”

Saber blinked, jolted back to reality. It
took him a moment to remember what he’d been saying. He raised his
chin when he recalled that Addison and Aunt Clara had been trying
to talk him into taking Goldie to the Chittingdon assembly.

“Too, there is the matter of keeping Goldie
safe,” he argued. “I have told the two of you and Aunt Lucy about
what Tyler Escott has learned. I am becoming more and more agitated
over the fact that William Doyle hasn’t turned up. I was positive
he would have returned to the city by now, and I can’t fathom where
the man might be. Every time I turn a corner, I half-expect him to
be standing there. And Hutchins, madman that he is... Until those
two are in custody, I refuse to take any more chances with Goldie’s
safety. Therefore, she and I will not be joining the Chittingdons,
and that is all I will hear on the subject. Now, by your
leave?”

He left the drawing room before Addison or
Clara could say another word. Walking into the hallway, he looked
up the staircase, feeling a profound need to be with Goldie. But
after a glance at his watch, he realized he had no time to see her.
Aunt Lucy was more than likely on guard by Goldie’s door anyway, he
thought irritably. With a great sigh, he left the house.

Jillian Somerset did not like to be kept
waiting, he remembered as he stepped into his coach. Not that he
cared a whit about her impatience.

But he was anxious to see her, too.

* * *

From her bedroom window, Goldie watched
Saber get into the carriage, and wondered where he was going.
Frustration welled when she tried to remember the last time she’d
spent any time alone with him. Though she was truly grateful to
learn all Miss Lucy and Miss Clara were teaching her, she wished
the many lessons did not include those that affected her intimate
relationship with Saber.

“I miss you,” she whispered down to him,
pondering the fact that the day of their permanent separation would
arrive soon. “Maybe lettin’ you hold me is ‘highly improper,’ but
Lord, how I ache for your arms. Maybe kissin’ is ‘absolutely
incorrect,’ but great day Miss Agnes, all I can think about lately
is the way you kiss me. That soft, let’s-not-rush-this way, and
that hard, give-me-everything-you’ve-got way, too.”

And lovemaking... She didn’t even want to
think
about how positively forbidden that was. But even so,
her body burned for his. The memory of the night they’d made love
was beautiful and torturous at once, leaving her yearning for that
which only Saber could give her.

“Oh, Saber,” she murmured, watching his
coach disappear around the corner. “This proper-lady stuff is pure
hell. And I’ve got to go soon. Our time...is comin’ to an end.”
Just like good things always do
, she added silently. Blowing
curls off her forehead, she began to turn away from the window, but
just as she did, she saw Rosie coming down the street, a bouquet of
roses in her hands. She waved and left the bedroom.

Downstairs, she met Rosie at the front door
and got a closer look at the roses. They were way past their prime,
little more than velvety black things stuck on the top of thorny
stems.

“Rosie, my dear,” Clara greeted the girl
warmly. “What have you brought today?”

Rosie grinned broadly, feeling genuine
affection for the kindhearted lady. “Brung ya some roses, I did,
Miss Clara. They’re fer Miss Lucy, too. They ain’t real fresh, but
they still smell good.”

Clara accepted the bouquet, trying not to
grimace at the overly sweet odor of the dying roses. “Bennett, put
these lovely roses in the finest vase you can find, then set them
here in the foyer where everyone may see them.”

Bennett handled the flowers with the
greatest reverence he could muster. For Rosie’s benefit, he even
smelled them, closing his eyes as if their cloying perfume was the
most wonderful scent he’d ever had the pleasure to enjoy.

Rosie smiled and turned back to Goldie,
noticing a sad expression in her friend’s eyes. “Let’s go upstairs,
luv,” she said, taking Goldie’s hand.

Once in Goldie’s bedroom, Rosie sashayed to
Goldie’s big, plush bed, and made herself comfortable upon it. She
waited for Goldie to speak to her, but when Goldie remained silent,
she started the conversation herself. “Ya remember Og Drit, Goldie?
The bloke wot was botherin’ us the day I met ya? The man won’t be
pesterin’ nobody no more. ’E’s dead. Somebody bloody well slit ’is
throat.”

Goldie sauntered to the window again,
peering down at the street below.

“Goldie? Ya ’ear wot I said?”

“I’ve been doin’ some hard thinkin’, Rosie,”
Goldie said softly. She breathed on the windowpane, drawing the
letter “S” in the circle of fog her breath had left there. “I’ve
been here in London a long time. I reckon Big’s worked himself into
a frenzy by now, wonderin’ what the hell’s keepin’ me. And great
day Miss Agnes, there’s no tellin’
what
Uncle Asa’s been up
to.”

Rosie realized the significance of her
friend’s statement but refused to accept it. “Ya ain’t thinkin’
about goin’ back ter ‘Allensham, are ya, Goldie? Wot about Saber?
Iffen ya takes ’im to ’Allensham an’ lets ’im play the duke, ya
ain’t never goin’ ter see ’im again. Ya said yerself that once them
villagers see ’im, ’e can’t never go back there again. ’E said he
bloomin’
loves
ya! Are ya jest goin’ ter let ’im leave yer
life like that? Gawblimey, Goldie, don’t tell me ya still don’t
believe the man cares fer ya!”

Goldie turned from the window, ambled to her
dressing table, and picked up her gold brush. Every memory she had
of Saber, starting from the day she met him, filtered through her
mind. “I didn’t at first, but... Y’know, Rosie, he’s never done
anything mean to me. And he likes my hair and freckles.”