Once Upon a Diamond (19 page)

“If you keep staring at me, Lord Lancewood, the entire
dance floor will begin buzzing like bees."

“Why, sweetheart, they may think I’m smitten with you.” 

Her cheeks turned an adoring red. “They may believe more
than that!" 

“I look at it differently. You see, if everyone knows my
intentions, then no man in his right mind will call on you.” He watched in
amusement as her nose went up.

“And pray tell, what
are
your intentions?"

“Oh,
I intend to marry you before the Season is over?” He swept her around the room,
leaving her breathless.

She pulled back, aghast. “I hardly know you."

He leaned his chin toward the side of her head and
brushed his lips across her ear. “You know me well enough to have been with me
at an inn.”

 “But I will not hold you to that.”

“Ah, but I’m an honorable man. If you’ve forgotten, I
spent the entire night with you." 

“You don't have to marry me because of that,” she
snapped, trying to keep her voice low. “You wouldn’t tell anyone about the inn,
would you?"

“I would, and I did. My brother and Devin know all about
it. That’s why I was plowed in the jaw before our little shopping excursion.” He
moved his jaw back and forth to show that it still hurt.

She chuckled. “Oh, my. Devin?” 

“Yes, Devin.” He smiled at the gleam in her doe brown
eyes. “So, you see, dear lady, my intentions are only honorable."

“But you don’t love me.”

“True,” he said without hesitation. “Yet I enjoy your
company and know that you are not like the rest of the flighty women in the ton.
Love has nothing to do with marriage. Especially our marriage. We complement
each other perfectly. I would give you all that you asked for. And all in all,
you would give me an heir to my title," he admitted freely.

And a wonderful life, he thought, but didn’t say it.  

He felt her stiffen. “You shall have to try harder than
that to woo me to be your wife. I want a man who loves me, not someone who only
enjoys my company and wants an heir." 

The music stopped. She moved to leave, but Tristan held
her, noting the hurt in her eyes. “You surprise me, Kate. However, by the end
of the Season, we shall be man and wife.” 

It wasn’t a command; it was a fact.

Kate avoided Tristan’s satisfied expression as she let
him lead her through the French doors, away from the crowd. He would never love
her, but wanted to marry her? Her stomach clenched at the thought of his
indifference to love. Marriage to him was what marriage was to many others in
the ton, one of convenience.

They might complement each other, but to him, love
wasn’t a part of marriage? 

Though her heart ached for his love, she realized he had
locked that door to his heart long ago. She would not let her emotions get the
best of her, not with a man who didn’t love her.

She lifted her gaze, wanting to tell him she could never
marry him. He would break her heart. But the second their eyes locked, she knew
she would lose the fight. His smoldering grin speared her very soul. Alarmed at
the effect this man had on her, she took a step back to leave. “I have to return
to the ball.”

“Ah, sweetheart,” he whispered, moving forward, his
hands wrapping possessively around her waist. “Don’t leave me now.”

Anticipation skittered along her skin as his fingers
pressed against the hollow of her back. Kate hesitated. Devin’s words came back
to haunt her.
No one in his family showed him any love except Edward...wasn’t
as fortunate as you and me to have had caring parents.

Tristan needed her. She couldn’t dismiss her feelings for
him any longer. She loved him. It wasn’t just his sweet kisses and handsome
face. Somewhere there was a closed heart ready to be opened, if only he would
let her, she could love him forever.

“Kate, say you’ll marry me, sweetheart.” His words were
smothered with a kiss. The velvety warmth of his lips was like sweet nectar,
luring her in like a fly to sugar.  

 She
wanted to marry him. Wanted to say yes. But a small voice kept tugging at her
conscience.
He didn’t love her. He couldn’t love her. He wouldn’t love her. He
would never love her. He loved that stupid diamond.
Lifting her head, she
pushed him away, hot color flooding her cheeks. “We have to go inside. People
will talk.” 

He dropped his gaze, his strong hands holding her
loosely about her hips. “Let them talk.” He smiled, dragging her toward him
once again and lifting her off her feet.

He trailed a whispering kiss down her ear.

She shivered, not from cold, but from the passion
lurking behind his words. Yet no matter how she tried to reason it out, she
knew he didn’t love her. Her heart wept in pain.
Oh, Tristan, how could you
do this to me?
She rested her face in his cravat. “I can’t marry you.”

“Can’t is different than won’t, sweetheart.”

Hiding her pain, she slowly pushed herself away from him.
Again. “Aunt Georgiana will be looking for me. I have to return.”  

Masking her tears, she watched as his face broke into a contented
grin. She moved back through the open doorway. She would teach him how to love.
She could teach him. Couldn’t she? 

Frowning, she turned to her left and the hair on the
nape of her neck stood on end. Someone was watching her. She whirled around,
her face lighting up in relief.

“Oh, goodness! Captain Gaston, however did I miss you?”

Feeling refreshed, Tristan strutted through the French
doors, a lover’s glaze pasted on his face. She would marry him. He could see it
in her eyes. Her refusal was nothing but nerves.

He took a step into the ballroom, staring at Kate’s
slender curves.

Soon he would have her and the diamond. All would be
well, and his life would be at peace.

His eyes narrowed as he took in the man standing beside
Kate and his smile vanished.

Who the devil invited him? 

T
here was an
excited fury at White’s as many gentlemen in the club gathered at the table
making bets on the upcoming fight at the Royal Cockpit. The wagers on the cruel
sport were reaching an all time high.

“Quite a commotion,” Tristan said from a table in an
adjacent room. He knew Douberry was at White’s, and he was hoping the man would
have one drink too many and his mouth would slip with information about
Fletcher and the diamond. If the baron was a traitor to the Crown, it was
imperative to find out the facts as soon as possible.

“What about a wager on the boxing match tomorrow at
Jackson’s?” Edward asked.

“Perhaps,” Devin said, tapping his fingers on the table,
staring at Tristan. “I say, it’s been two weeks since you told Katherine of
your intended marriage plans. When is this infamous wedding taking place?”

Tristan shrugged. “As soon as she agrees.”
And before
she puts into effect any thoughts of returning to America.
But he had sensed
Kate’s receptive warmth to his advances and was confident she would agree to
marry him. It was only a matter of time.

Devin laughed. “As long as we are mentioning ladies,
what are you intentions toward my sister, Edward?”

Edward’s face turned purple. “B-beg your pardon?”

“Come now, the way you gawk at Charlotte, it’s not hard
to notice your interest, especially at Almack’s the other night.” 

“I’m fond of your sister. What’s wrong with that?” 

Devin’s eyes drilled into Edward’s. “Nothing.”

Edward ran a nervous hand across his knee. “Believe I’ll
take a peek and check the books over there. Quite a large crowd.” He stood and
made a quick retreat to the betting tables.

Devin’s expression turned serious. “Marriage is it?”  

Tristan’s gaze followed his brother’s back until he
disappeared. “I hope not yet. Edward’s only a pup.”

“Jupiter,” Devin snapped, clearly agitated by his
friend’s response. “If that pup of yours waits much longer, Charlotte will be
married off to some cad with a haughty title and wealth to boot. Her dowry is
more than sufficient to draw a duke.”

Tristan cracked a smile, sipping his brandy. “A cad like
us?"

“I would hope not,” Devin said with a sardonic smile.

Tristan tilted his head toward the crowd. “What else is
on the betting books, do you suppose?”

“A boxing match. A cock fight. Could be anything these
days.”

In the next room Edward nudged his way into the midst of
the shouting men, listening to the surmounting wagers.

“Forty pounds on Derby’s bird,” Riverwoods shot out.

Edward raised a stunned brow. All that coin on a cock
fight? “Evening, Douberry,” Edward said as the baron staggered into him.

“Eve-evening,” the baron belched. “Or is it?” Douberry
leaned sideways, giving Edward a hideous whiff of his breath. “Your brother
still about?" the man asked with a slurred tongue.

“Next room.”

“Running after that American chit, ain’t he?”

Edward’s lips thinned.

“Ah,” the baron said as he quickly downed his drink. “Miss
Wilcox, ain’t it?”

A viscount pushed between the two men. “Fifty pounds on
Claremont’s bird.”

An uneasy feeling settled in Edward’s stomach as Douberry
stumbled to the floor in a drunken stupor and let out another crude grunt.

“He’ll never marry the chit, you know.”

Edward’s hands curled beside him. “And you have a vested
concern in this matter?”

The baron struggled to his feet, swaying and hitting
table upon table until he found a chair. After maintaining his balance, Douberry
twisted his head around to focus upon Edward once again. “It ain’t my concern
at all," he mouthed, tipping a stranded glass toward his mouth and
emptying its contents, “But he won’t find that diamond either.”

Edward took an abrupt step toward the man, thought
better of it, and returned to his brother.  

“What happened to you?” Tristan asked, watching the play
of emotions on Edward’s face. “Someone call you out?”

Edward shook his head. “I ran into Douberry. He was
quite foxed. Man said that you would never marry Miss Wilcox or find the
diamond. But I didn’t want to make a scene. Think he knew that. I ignored him
instead.”

Tristan’s jaw clenched. Was the man threatening Kate? “Did
you know that Douberry knew Fletcher?”

Edward’s eyes bulged open in shock. “No.” 

Tristan shoved his chair back and in four powerful
strides, crossed into the betting room. A hush stabbed the air as everyone
recognized the earl’s taut body blocking the doorway.

Tristan stood there, eyeing the snake hiding behind
Riverwoods. To him, it wasn’t worth his time to call the baron out. He wanted
to deal with Douberry on his own terms. And his superiors had distinctly told
him not to interfere with the baron unless it was truly necessary.

Tristan ground his teeth when he caught Douberry’s eyes
tearing up. Either the man was the greatest actor on earth, or he was a total
fool. Tristan didn’t know which. He turned on his heel and strode back to his
table where Devin and Edward awaited.

“I’m leaving,” he said with a scowl. “You two coming?” 

Devin stood, his expression confused. “Of course we’re
coming. Have you forgotten that you’re invited to dinner tonight? Mother would
be put out if you didn’t show. She’s invited your own mother to join us.”

Tristan rolled his eyes in frustration. A fitting
encore.

“A wonderful dinner, Aunt Georgiana,” Kate said, feeling
Tristan’s intense gaze upon her. “The venison with the berry sauce was
delightful. I’ll have to tell my cook about it back at Wilcox Manor.” 

The duchess smiled. Any compliment sent her into
heavenly bliss. “Cook is one of the best in London.”  She glanced up at her
husband. “The sauces were spectacular, were they not?"

“Exquisite, my dear,” the duke replied. As if knowing
the conversation might take a turn for the worst with his wife in the lead, the
duke directed a warm gaze toward Tristan’s mother. “Lady Lancewood, are you
enjoying the Season thus far?"

“Quite,” she replied, with a stiff smile. “I do hope to
make it to many balls this year. Are you attending the one given by the
Countess of Brackshire, Your Grace?”

“Oh, my, yes,” the duchess answered for her husband. “Everybody
will be there.”

Kate remembered that name from somewhere. “Have I met
the countess before?”

Charlotte put down her drink. “Not likely. She was at
one of the balls a week ago. But she was only there a short time.”

“I remember now,” Kate said with a beaming smile. “The
Countess of Brackshire is Mrs. Hollingsworth’s cousin.” 

Kate looked at Tristan as if he knew the lady. “I have
never had the pleasure of meeting a Mrs. Hollingsworth,” he said, picking up
his wineglass.

“Mrs. Hollingsworth is the lady who came over with me
from America. My brother asked her to accompany me to England. She lives only a
few miles from the Wilcox Manor and happened to have relatives living here in
London.”

Devin scowled at Kate’s reply. “If your brother sent her
with you, why didn’t the woman escort you to the country when you were in such
poor health?”

Immediately, Kate realized her
faux pas
. She had
no wish to involve Mrs. Hollingsworth. “I insisted that she be dropped off in
London. There was no need for her to come with me to the country.” Kate looked
toward Tristan. “You’ve met her nephew.”

“I have no recollection of meeting her nephew.”

“Captain Gaston?”

Tristan’s hold on his goblet slackened, and the glass
clanked against his plate. “Ah, yes, I do recall a rather older man by that
name. He was outside the music shop, if memory serves me correctly. We also met
the gentleman at a ball a few weeks ago.” 

Kate grinned and folded her hands together in pleasure. “You
do remember. Oh, it will be nice to see some friendly faces from home. Mrs.
Hollingsworth is such an...interesting lady.”

After dinner the ladies took their leave while the men
remained in the dining room, receiving another round of drinks.

The duke sent a pointed glance toward Tristan. “I gather
you do not care for this Gaston character?”

Tristan strode toward the fireplace. “Was it that
obvious?”

“Not to the women perhaps, but to me it was.”

Inwardly, Tristan cringed. He had not liked the way
Gaston had conveniently presented himself outside the music shop or at the ball
two weeks ago. And when Kate had danced with the captain, it was all Tristan
could do from not calling the man out.

Kate had mentioned the captain had plans to visit
relatives in Paris the next month, and Tristan’s instincts had gone into full
alert. Having French blood wasn’t a crime, but to Tristan, there was something
about the man that didn’t sit right.

Edward frowned. “I take it the man’s a scoundrel.”

Sipping his port, Tristan peered up at the gentlemen. “I’ve
known men like him. He’s no good.”     

Tristan thought of Kate. She had mentioned returning
home. If he didn’t move quickly, she might leave England before he had a chance
to marry her.

The duke put his hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “I’m glad
you spoke up. When we attend the Brackshire ball, we shall watch our ladies
closely.”

Meanwhile, in the drawing room, Charlotte and Kate took
turns playing the piano. Charlotte lifted her hands from the keys and glanced
at her cousin.

“Kate, oh, do let us play a piano and flute duet. I
looked at some of the sheet music you brought home the other day and happened
to see a few pieces that would be appropriate.” 

Kate smiled. “My flute is upstairs. I won’t be a
minute.”

Excusing herself, Kate hurried out of the room, passing
the dining room doors.

“Hell’s teeth!” 

She paused when she heard the duke’s shout. Without
hesitation she backed up a few paces, where the dining room door was cracked
open about an inch, and stooped down to listen.    

“He threatened that at the club? Did you call the man
out? My niece of all people!”

Kate fidgeted. Someone had threatened her?

“He really couldn’t do much, Father. The man was foxed,
probably didn’t know half of what he was saying.”

Kate stretched her neck toward the door. A duel over
her?  

“I have no wish for Kate to know,” she heard Tristan say.
“She’s too naive to understand.”

Too naïve? Kate’s ears seemed to enlarge with each word Tristan
uttered.

“May I help you, Miss Wilcox?"

Heat flooded Kate’s entire body face when Webster
unexpectedly came around the corner. She slowly uncoiled from her crouched
position. “Uh, no thank you, Webster. I was just heading upstairs.” She patted
her hair and scampered up the steps.

Blood pumped through her veins so hard she could feel it
hammering in her brain. Of all the humiliating things to be the center of a
possible duel. A duel that Tristan didn’t even have the decency to tell her
about it. And naïve? Who did he think he was?   

She was still feeling the sting of the conversation when
she returned to the drawing room with her flute. But to her surprise, the
evening had taken another turn for the worse when she found herself alone with Tristan’s
mother.

“Ah, Miss Wilcox. It seems the duchess was feeling a bit
under the weather," the countess replied coolly, sitting in a wing chair
beside the hearth. “Lady Charlotte escorted her mother to her bedchambers. I am
afraid it is only the two of us this evening.”

“Oh.” Kate’s heart fell to the floor, along with the
temperature in the room.

“Lady Charlotte may not return,” the countess went on. “Her
Grace looked quite uncomfortable.”

Kate sank onto the sofa. “Is she very ill? Shall I send
for the doctor?”

“No. It appears to be a clear case of over-indulgence. The
raspberry sauce, I believe.” 

Kate felt the lady’s cold glare crawl down her back. What
kind of life had Tristan had? No wonder he had a hard time with the concept of
love. His mother was as cold as a dead fish.

“Am
I to presume, Miss Wilcox, that you have an interest in Lord Lancewood?”

Startled, Kate stared back, the heat rushing to her face.
Couldn’t the lady say her son’s name? “I am fond of him.”

“I see.” The lady’s lips pinched. “And do you intend to
wed him?”

Shocked, Kate stared back at the woman’s cool blue eyes.

“You’re an American,” the countess continued. “I simply
cannot have my firstborn marrying anybody. And you seem to be just anybody.” 

Kate fingers dug into her flute case as the older lady
continued her attack.