Once Upon a Diamond (2 page)

“Whoever
threw that knife, Mr. Travis, wanted you dead.”

“Or
you, Matthew.”

“Yes,
or me. The cook saw a man hurry out the back door. He didn’t recognize him.” 

Matthew
glanced at the knife Mr. Travis held. “And that belonged to our runaway.”

 Mr.
Travis’s brows puckered as he stared at the weapon. “Thunderation and curses. Someone
is desperate enough to murder again. First your father and now this.” The pudgy
man looked up, worried. “If that’s the case, what about your sister? Do you
think she’s safe? If this involves Robert’s death, nothing can be left to
chance.”

“If
anyone lays a hand on her…I’ll kill him.”

“You
can’t take any chances. You have to get her away from here. The farther, the
better. Send her to England. To that duke of yours.”

“My
uncle? My sister hasn’t taken a foot outside Wilcox Manor in over two weeks.
Not since she heard the news about our father. Confound it, I can’t send her to
England now.”

“What
else can you do?” Mr. Travis challenged. “Someone wants one of us dead. Maybe
we know something we shouldn’t. Take a good look at this knife, my boy. Do you
want her to be next?”

“No!”
Matthew slammed a fist against the counter, his eyes still searching the pub. “Since
they couldn’t find my father’s body, she won’t admit he’s dead. You of all
people know how she is. That female’s more stubborn than the British in that
stupid war we finally ended.”

Mr.
Travis frowned. “She’s a beautiful girl, Matthew. You need to protect her.
Robert would want it.”

Matthew
glared at the chair he knocked over while diving for cover, then turned a
chilling gaze back to Mr. Travis. “I want you to go over my father’s papers.
See if anything’s amiss. I’ll be busy trying to get Kate away from here as soon
as possible.”

Shaken,
Mr. Travis wiped the sweat from his forehead. “If you don’t move her quickly,
she’ll stick her nose into something she shouldn’t. I don’t like this. Don’t
like it at all.”

Matthew’s
steely blue eyes bore into the crowd. “I’ll send a letter to my uncle tomorrow.
She won’t like going to England above half, and heaven help me if I have to
force the issue.” 

“Commanding
your sister to leave home is not a job for the faint at heart, my boy.”

 Matthew
let out a strangled laugh, then swore. “Faint at heart? We were almost killed a
few minutes ago. I don’t like the odds we were given today. However, one
thing’s for certain, I’m going keep Kate out of it.” His brows dipped in
concern. “But what about you?”

“Don’t
worry about me, my boy. My stepson Jake is a colonel. He’s in intelligence, you
know. Been thinking these last few minutes. Going to stay with him for a while,
take him into our confidence. Do my own investigating. But as for you, it’s not
going to be easy to have your sister do your bidding.”

Matthew
grimaced. “Getting her to England will be easy compared to finding her a
husband.” 

The
older gentleman choked on his whiskey. “A husband?” he squeaked.

Matthew’s
lips fell into a harsh line. “You heard me. A husband.”

Mr.
Travis shoved the whiskey bottle in Matthew’s direction. “To dampen the pain,
my boy. With your father’s death and now your sister, well, I don’t envy you. A
husband, by gad.”  The man stared at the knife he held between two fat fingers
and let it clatter to the counter. “No. Don’t envy you at all.”

Twenty-year-old
Katherine Josephine Wilcox sat on her father’s wing chair, wringing her hands
on her skirt and staring blankly at the plush rug beneath her. Wisps of
cornsilk hair strayed from the loosely piled tresses on top of her head. A huge
knot of grief formed in her throat as she shifted her gaze to the fireplace.
The host of rising flames did nothing to warm the iciness that claimed her
heart.

“Kate,
I know these past few weeks have been hard on you...”

She
looked up, barely listening to Matthew who was pacing across the study floor.
Tears stung the back of her doe brown eyes, and her bottom lip began to
tremble. Why was her brother talking about journeying to the Mediterranean now?
Leaving Boston was out of the question.

It
had been two weeks since she’d heard news of her father’s death at sea. Two
weeks since she agreed to her brother’s plan.
If Father does not return in
one year, we shall assume he’s dead. Is that to your satisfaction? 

No,
she hadn’t accepted her father’s death. One year to face the grim facts about
her father’s disappearance! Matthew had known how stubborn she could be, so he
had offered the compromise. She had agreed. Now, she wondered if that had been
a good idea at all.

She
was having a difficult time as it was, especially when Matthew tried to ignore
his own feelings. He hadn’t shed a tear in front of her, but two days after he
had told her about their father, she’d heard him sobbing behind the closed
doors of the study. Matthew never cried. Pain for her brother had cracked her
heart in two. Though he was strong and capable, he would never admit his
vulnerability. She would take care of him though. She would not let him carry
the burden of their father’s death alone
. Oh, Papa. What are we going to do
without you? 

Her
head suddenly snapped back when Matthew spoke.

“London?”
she asked with a sense of alarm.

“Yes,
London.” Her brother cleared his throat and looked away. “I’ve, uh, added it to
our voyage. Father and I decided a long time ago that it would be best for you
to travel to England and stay with Aunt Georgiana and Uncle Phillip for a
spell. Only a short time, mind you. The country air shall give you time to
recuperate and set your mind at ease.”  

An
angry tremor worked its way to her lips. “And I have nothing to say about
this?”

“It
will be for only a short time.”

Short
time? Her stomach curled into a cold, hard ball. Any time in England would be
too long. Her fear of the dark was nothing compared to facing that person again.

Matthew
shrugged. “This is as good a time as any.” 

She
chewed her bottom lip as thoughts ran through her head. She couldn’t use her
father’s death as an excuse to stay in Boston because she had forced the issue
of waiting a year to formally mourn. And her brother certainly wouldn’t like
her saying she needed to stay because he needed her! So, she told him the
truth. “I simply can’t go to London. Ever.” 

But
she had not told Matthew why. No, she could never tell him why.

Yet
Matthew ignored her words of protest. “As niece to a duke and duchess, you
shall be treated like a queen. Ridgewater Manor should be lovely this time of
year.” 

Lovely?
This was intolerable. “If it’s up to you, next thing I know, I’ll be married to
some stranger.” He raised a blond brow as if to say anything was possible. She
pursed her lips.

“I’m
only following Father’s wishes,” he countered. “I’ll make the decisions as I
see fit.” 

Grasping
the arms of her chair, she dismissed the delicate thread of warning in his
voice. “Fit? What kind of consolation is that? I am not ready to go to London
now.” 

“Oh,
you will go. Make no mistake about that.”

“How
could you do this to me? Especially after yesterday when you decided to play
matchmaker like some old woman! If Papa does not return, I will have to marry
as soon as you find the best man for the position? Good gracious, that edict of
yours was ludicrous, but sending me to London is insufferable! You are becoming
somewhat of a dictator, and I don’t like it!”

“Oh,
you will go to England! And I will find a husband for you in the near future.
Make no mistake about that.”

“You’ve
lost your mind!”

Matthew’s
eyes narrowed. Kate’s throat locked up. It was pointless. She knew her brother.
He would not bend. She could not win this fight about going to London, at least
not now. It might be best to agree to his traveling plans, if only to get him
to stop thinking about a husband for her. Besides, if luck were with her, she
might avoid her problem in England altogether. And maybe she could use the time
to put her life back in order. “Very well. I’ll go.” 

Matthew’s
jaw dropped, and he slowly fell into his chair.  

She
managed a twisted smile, enjoying his confusion. She usually fought him at
every turn. “You shall be my escort, of course. The Mediterranean shall have to
wait.”

He
shrugged as if to recollect his thoughts and threw his booted feet over the
side of the inlaid mahogany desk. “I can drop you off in London, then carry on
to the Mediterranean. It will take some extra time to navigate up the Thames,
but I want you safely delivered. After my business is complete, I’ll return to England
to visit with you and our relatives.” 

Her
brow wrinkled. “I am to make the trip to Ridgewater Manor by myself?”

Horror
blanketed Matthew’s face as he whipped his feet off the desk. “No! If you’re
traveling in the country, you’ll need a proper chaperone.” He smiled as if he
were the devil himself. “Even if it’s only to Ridgewater Manor. Mrs.
Hollingsworth will be with you. She has relatives in England as well as
France.”

Kate’s
eyes popped wide in shock. “Mrs. Hollingsworth as chaperone?” 

“Though
Captain Gaston is her step-nephew, the lady has a much nicer demeanor.”

Captain
Gaston was employed by the Wilcox Shipping Line, and Kate recalled that his
French mother had married Mrs. Hollingsworth’s late brother.

“Listen
here, dear brother. The captain may be a bit high-handed at times, but I like
him. At least he’s sane. His aunt, on the other hand, may have a gentler side,
but she’s crazy!”

“Well,
then, what’s the problem?”

“The
captain’s sane. She’s crazy! That’s the problem!”

Matthew
could hardly contain his laughter. “I admit, she is rather different.” 

“Different?”
Kate snapped.

Matthew
laughed. “Ah, Kate, you can be a shrew. Even you must see how hilarious this
is. Imagine Mrs. Hollingsworth and you confined in a carriage for almost an
entire day.”

Kate
groaned. She was trapped. Mrs. Hollingsworth was the least of her worries. Matthew
didn’t know it, but she had good reason not to venture into the heart of
England again.

That
Tristan boy must have hated her for what she’d done to him ten years ago.

Why,
she had almost killed him!

Chapter
Two

England

T
ristan
sat in the library of Lancewood Hall and let
the warm brandy slide down his throat as he dragged his gaze downward, studying
the notes on his desk. He
leaned back in his leather chair and picked up
the letter he recently received
from Harold
Fletcher, the man who had written to him about his father’s death. After a few
seconds, he dropped it onto his stack of communications and drew in a
frustrated sigh.

Tomorrow, he was to meet with Fletcher at the Hunting
Fox Inn, less than half a day’s ride from Lancewood Hall
.
Anticipation ran through him at the very notion
of finding the diamond and returning it to India. Could he finally be at the
end of his search? Would his duty to his country be fulfilled? And would his
father’s quest be finished? 

He would have laughed if the situation weren’t so grave.
It had been years since the diamond had mysteriously disappeared from Lancewood
Hall. His father had never stopped looking for it. But now, it was essential
England return the gem to its native land. He grabbed the missive he had
received  from Foreign Office, and ran over it once again.

London,
1st February, 1816

My
Lord,

I am in dire need of your services once again. However,
on this occasion your covert mission is of a more personal nature - your family
diamond, to be precise. I realize your father has been in search of the gem for
quite some time now, but regrettably, it has not been found.

Allow me to state the facts as we know them. Intelligence
has informed me the diamond your family has held in possession for generations was
obtained innocently more than a century ago. Before that, the gem was illegally
lifted from a sacred statue located in a small village in India. Two months ago
a British soldier ran off with a girl from that village and a holy man was
killed.

If rumor is to be believed, the enemy was involved in this
nefarious plan to upset British trade by framing the soldier for the holy man’s
death. Tension has spread beyond the village with key trade routes already
affected.

My ambassador considers it best to return the diamond to
the village. I am of the same mind that the diamond, which the village believes
sacred, holds the answer to returning peace to that area.

I do not have to remind you that the war against
Napoleon has taken a toll on this country. If trade routes are blocked, Britain
will sink further into debt.

This incident has yet to publicly penetrate English
soil, but if something is not done soon, more blood will be shed. I implore you
to secure this gem with the utmost haste. The country is depending on you.              

C
astlereagh

With a worried frown, Tristan set the paper aside, then
gathered his notes regarding the diamond and locked them inside his desk. He
had until the end of the Season, perhaps the middle of June, to find the
blasted gem.

It was March now. If the diamond didn’t reappear soon, Britain
would take drastic steps to defend England’s trade, and that could mean
bloodshed on both sides.

More than once Tristan wondered if the rumors about the
diamond were true. Did it carry a curse? Or was it pure greed that had driven
the evil attached to it? 

When Tristan had become earl,
he
had hired Andrews, a retired Bow Street
Runner,
to help find the diamond. He had given Andrews no other reason for retrieving
the gem other than it being a lost heirloom and honor demanded the gem be
returned back to the family.

“My lord. Lord Roxdon to see you."

Tristan glanced up and smiled, recognizing the telltale
sign on his butler’s face. “And?” 

“And, I daresay,” Perkins said, lowering his voice, “his
lordship looks like a fat cat who recently swallowed your favorite bird,
m’lord.”

Tristan raised an amused brow. “I have no favorite bird.
In fact, I have no bird at all.”

“Precisely, m’lord.
Preeecisely
.”

Tristan
ran a forefinger along his jaw. “The man’s up to no good, you say?”

The butler nodded emphatically. “Quite right, m’lord. Can
see it in his eyes, I can.”

Tristan rose to greet his good friend, grateful to tear
his mind away from the diamond. It was times like these he knew why he kept
Perkins, even though the man could live on a small retainer in a nearby cottage
and stop working altogether.

There was a motherly instinct in the old boy, giving Tristan
a feeling that at least somebody cared about him besides Edward, added to that
fact, the white-haired butler refused to leave his employ until the man stuck
his spoon in the wall.

“Well, dash it all, Perkins, show the fat cat in then. I’m
ready for him." 

“Very well, m’lord. Ain’t saying I didn’t warn you
though. I don’t like it by half.” 

“I appreciate your expertise in this matter and will heed
your warning.”

“Very well, m’lord. As you wish.” Perkins pressed his
lips together and departed.

Tristan swallowed a chuckle as the elderly man shuffled
from the room, leaving Devin Theodore Lawrence, Marquess of Roxdon, to step
into the library with eyebrows raised. “You know, Trist, I have the uncanny
feeling old Perkins has it out for me."

“Man’s protective of me,” Tristan countered, studying
his childhood friend. “Need he be?”

Devin laughed. “Hoped you would want to go for a ride. Bought
two new stallions from Tattersall’s. You remember our last bet? The boxing
match at Jackson’s? Well, I lost and decided not to pay you back in coin. Purchased
you a horse instead, and one for me as well.”

Tristan raised a skeptical brow. “A horse?” 

Minutes later, saddled on two magnificent black
stallions, the two men headed west on Lancewood land. Tristan held tightly to
the leather reins and scowled. It was apparent he had been presented with the
worst tempered of the majestic animals. He glared at his friend. “I see that
while you were fulfilling your debt, you took the mild-mannered one for
yourself.”

Devin cracked a smile and rode on ahead, showing off his
sleek animal. “Indeed. Couldn’t let you have the best horse in the country,
could I? Both are a bit wild, barely broken in. However, broken in enough for a
gentleman good at the reins. But confound it, you wouldn’t want your life to be
boring, would you?”   

Tristan maneuvered his black horse to a steady trot
alongside Devin’s. The stallion lifted its head, challenging Tristan’s hold. He
pulled one way, the horse pulled another.

“Devil take it. I shall do more than box your ears the
next time we are at Gentleman Jackson’s, and believe me, there will be no wager.”

With an innocent shrug, Devin grinned. “Staying in
London next week?"

Tristan shot the man a hardened glare. “Do I dare tell
you the truth and say yes?”

“Splendid.” Devin sent him a wicked smile and pulled
ahead of him. “I’ve already included you as an escort for my sweet little
cousin this Season." 

“What?” Tristan’s shout echoed in the wind.

He distinctly remembered that American chit every time
his foot hammered with pain. She had broken a few bones and had left him
bleeding through his boot.

Devin laughed. “Thought you liked her from the very
start. She’s a woman now, not a ten-year-old wild cat, you know.”

“Exactly,” Tristan countered. “That female has ten more
years on us. A baby wild cat is one thing, a full-grown feline is quite another.
It seems to me any person within five feet...”

But his words conveniently trailed off as Devin booted
his heels into his stallion and sped away. Tristan followed, clenching his
teeth. Suddenly aware of the lake ahead, he jerked back on his reins but his
horse decided not to obey.

It was too late for either of the men. The horses
skirted the giant oaks, kicked their hind legs up, and bucked the stunned
riders into the air. The jolt sent both men flying into the cold water with a
splash.

A
few seconds later Tristan sprang from the lake. His blue-black hair was
plastered to his head as he shot a cool stream of water from his mouth.

A
mat of brown locks surfaced behind him as Devin bobbed his head in shock. “By
Jove, I do believe those wild animals knew exactly what they were doing.”

Tristan climbed onto dry land, dripping from head to toe.
“No, I do believe they went mad after you mentioned your delightful cousin.” 

Devin shook off the water and couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Probably so.”

Without giving Devin another glance, Tristan strode
around the perimeter of the lake, his boots sloshing with every step as he
retrieved his horse. He would have laughed at the entire situation too, but the
memory of a tiny, pink ball of fluff, holding tight to the reins of Devin’s
favorite horse, set his lips into a harsh line.

The figure had flown past them like a bolt of a
lightning, her innocent yellow curls bouncing playfully against her back. Oblivious
to her numbed onlookers, the spoiled child had bared her bright white smile,
preparing for the ride of her life.

Innocent, my foot, thought Tristan with a grimace. She
could have been killed.

He spun around to interrogate his friend. “What the
blazes do you mean,
I
am to help escort that chit this Season?  Devin?” His
voice thundered through the trees, but there was no response. Devin’s black
horse had quickly disappeared from view.

Tristan fisted his hands against his soggy breeches. Blast
and double blast. He had to look for that diamond. He didn’t have time to play escort
to a pampered American. And if Fletcher handed the diamond to him at the inn, Tristan
had to deliver the gem to Whitehall and take his orders from there. If there
was no diamond, London was still the next stop in the search.

Thunderation. He didn’t need a spoiled brat in the
middle of things. There was no telling what the female might do. From his
experience, the next time he locked eyes with the little spitfire, she just
might kill him after all.

“I
want him dead. That’s what I’m paying you for, ain’t it? He has an appointment
at the Hunting Fox Inn tomorrow evening, something about that deuced diamond
he’s been searching for.” 

The
commanding voice burst forth from beneath the black hood inside the darkened
carriage. Thin fingers of lamplight fanned past the closed curtains of the
vehicle as the stench of the Thames seeped into the air.

A
brawny man sat on the opposite seat of the coach, his beady eyes narrowing with
unease. “Blimey, he’s an earl, he is! There’d be a search for me as soon as I
stuck him with me knife!”

“Listen well,” the voice snapped. “The inn is twenty
miles from his home. The proprietor’s a nitwit. He’ll cater to the earl, and
won’t pay no mind to you, not if you don’t make a fuss.” 

“I ain’t wanting to end up in Newgate, hanging by a rope.
Me brother died like that. I ain’t planning on going the same way.” 

A hand stretched out before him. “One bag of silver now,
another when the deed is done. Slip out as fast as your knife slips in.” 

When a plump satchel of coins clanked to the carriage
floor, the man’s weasel-like eyes grew wide with greed. Stretching out beefy fingers,
he snatched up the sack, stuffing the straggling coins back into the corded
pouch.

“Ain’t going to be fair ’bout it, ye know. He’s a strong
one, he is. Heard he went ten rounds with the best at Jackson’s. Word is, those
green eyes of his are as sharp as a tiger’s. Be doing it fast and quick-like.”

“I don’t care about being deuced fair. I want him dead. Two
days after the deed is done, I’ll meet you here, same time.”

The brawny man let out a gritty smile as he opened the
carriage door, his hand sliding to the blade that rested against his muscular
thigh.
“Ain’t
his lordship going to be surprised when I be holding me knife to his throat,
letting him know who done him in, eh?”

“Won’t
matter if he knows who done him in or not. He’ll be dead and that’s all I
want.” 

Kate winced at the stale smell from the London docks.
The
trip across the ocean had been wretched.
Though
happy to finally be on dry land, 
she ached to go home.

After leaving Boston and setting forth to England on one
of the Wilcox merchant ships, she had fallen ill within the week. She had been
stuck in her cabin, a prisoner of her own body, seasick at every turn,
shivering and losing most of her food.

She had never been fond of dark enclosed spaces ever
since she had accidentally locked herself inside a trunk sitting in the
shipyard when she was a child. Confined to her cabin most of her journey had
been just as bad. Matthew had tried his best to comfort her on the voyage, but
she could barely walk outside that gloomy cabin before she had to return. Even
Mrs. Hollingsworth had been surprised by her illness.