Heart of the Diamond Page 9

  Nicki moved around the settee toward the door, then turned back to Angelica. “Forgive me if I do not thank you.”

  “Nicole Langley, would you ask us to behave differently than every parent who has concern for their daughter? The marriage to Melton was extremely fortunate considering the fact that you were not presented at court. When you were compromised by the Earl of Diamond we no longer had the freedom to determine the best course for your future.”

  “Nothing happened! I thought I would find Teddy, but instead discovered the earl. He did not behave ungallantly. Why must I be forced to wed him only because I chanced to be in his bedchamber?”

  Angelica raised her hands palms out, as though warding off Nicki's bitterness. “You know very well that in our society women are not to speak to a man to whom they have not been formally introduced. Nor are they to have any appearance of being compromised. Such are the restrictions placed upon us by our men in an effort to honor us and put us on a pedestal . . . ”

  “I am being punished for a misunderstanding!” Nicki's voice echoed through the room, shrill, teetering at the edge of hysteria.

  “It is unfortunate you feel that way, Nicole, and I am quickly regretting my honesty. You may go to your room and lie down. I hope your disposition is improved by supper.” Angelica looked away, ending the conversation.

  An overwhelming sense of alienation washed over Nicki and she longed to run, but at the same time wanted to stay. A movement near the fire drew her gaze. She had forgotten about Mina, who stared, wide-eyed, horrified. Nicki twisted her hands together and wished she had never tried to get out of the marriage to Melton, wished she had never acted on the note, wished she had never been born.

  Tears threatened to spill over once again. Nicki spun and dashed from the room to the stairway. She paused at the foot of the stairs, clutching the banister as the pain in her chest intensified until she thought surely her heart must be attacking her, just like Grandpapa John's. And he had died.

  The sound of scurrying footsteps alerted Nicki to her sister's arrival. “Nicki, I'm worried about you.”

  She attempted to take one step, hoping the pain would ease. It did. So she climbed another step, and another, and straightened her shoulders. “No need, Mina. Please, return to your sewing.”

  Mina continued to follow. “Do you not think you are overreacting just a little?”

  At the top of the staircase, Nicki came to an abrupt halt and Mina bumped into her. “Did you not hear anything that was said? Blake Dylan ruined our family financially!”

  “We do not seem to be so bad off.”

  Amazed, Nicki spun away and dashed down the corridor to her room. “Forgive me, but I thought that you wanted a Season in London so you could find a handsome, rich husband and have a beautiful family of little lords and ladies,” she tossed over her shoulder as she pushed open the door to her bedchamber.

  Mina hurried after, breathless. “We are not talking about me. You seemed to like the earl well enough before Angelica told you about the dispute he had with Papa.”

  “Oh, yes, I liked him, despite the fact that he tricked me.” Nicki stalked to the bedside table and turned up the lamp.

  “Then forget about what he has done in the past.”

  Nicki sat upon the bed. Lucy had removed her damp clothing and everything had been returned to its normal tidiness. If only Nicki could do the same with her life. “How can I forget? I went to him and humbled myself, begged him for your Season. He should have told me the truth then. I hate that he continued to deceive me.” She reached for a pillow and clutched it to her breast. “Even I know a marriage cannot be built upon deception.”

  “But was it truly so bad? You are very forgiving. Look at your relationship with Teddy.” Mina joined Nicki on the bed.

  Nicki fought the curious urge to burst into tears. “Where have you been these past days, Mina? The earl played me false!”

  “But he did agree to everything. That doesn't sound like someone bent on revenge. Perhaps he's left his revenge in the past.”

  Frustration shimmered inside her. “This is all part of his scheme, do you not see, Mina.” A sharp pain sliced through her. “He is using me.”

  “He likes you. Anyone with eyes in their head can see that.”

  “Oh, that is just too rich, Mina. How can he possibly care for me, now or ever?”

  “You'll change your mind when you've had time to think this over. After all, business is not the same as marriage.”

  “If you think this is only a slight crimp perhaps you should marry the earl.”

  “You were compromised, not me.”

  “Small matter. You are countess material. It is the perfect solution.”

  “But I do not wish to marry him. I want to have my Season, and I am not yet eighteen!”

  “Blake will most certainly take you to London when you are married.”

  “No. I would marry him but he's your fiancé. The contract has been signed.”

  “Mina . . . ”

  “If anyone can make the best of this situation it is you, sister. Blake likes you. Maybe he'll open up to you, explain the reason for his actions. He truly does not seem to be a monster.”

  “That is how you honestly feel?”

  “Yes. He was quite civil to Angelica this afternoon, which took the patience of a saint.”

  Nicki smiled. A saint. Mina thought him a saint. Just the way a woman should feel about a man she is to marry.

  Chapter 5

  . . .

  Greetings, My Lord Diamond,

  I have news of the greatest import. The answer to our dilemma is for you to wed my sister, Mina. She is well suited to the role of countess and it cannot have escaped your notice that I—on the other hand—lack social presence.

  Your kindness to me is most greatly appreciated. Please speak to my father as soon as possible.

  Respectfully,

  Nicki Langley

  Nicki perused the page, her teeth worrying her lower lip. Was she too jovial? Too casual? The tone must be just the right blend of apology, appreciation, and reasoning. She dared not allow her true feelings to slip through. If the earl discerned her outrage at his betrayal, he would never release her from the engagement—for it seemed emotion was exactly what he wanted.

  With a sigh, she folded the page and held a delicate spoon containing wax beads over the candle. The careful imprint of her mother's ring, the earl's name penned across the face of the missive, and the deed was complete.

  Having taken the first step to correct the situation eased her ire somewhat, though Nicki clung to the feelings that had initiated the action in the first place. She could not allow the earl to twist her around to his way of thinking. She did not doubt for one moment that he could do so. He was too charming by half, but so were highwaymen and thieves, until they wanted your purse.

  Her sister obviously did not share Nicki's opinion that Blake Dylan had deceived their family and did not deserve the chance to prove his true motives. Mina possessed all the qualities an earl might look for in a bride, while Nicki knew only too well her own shortcomings. Lord Diamond had witnessed the most grievous: her recklessness. Therefore, he should not be disappointed that Mina would take Nicki's place as his bride. Nicki had to admit that her conduct in the past had played into the earl's hands perfectly.

  So it was only fitting that Nicki be the one to set everything to rights.

  She lay the note upon the marble-topped writing desk. The name stared at her. Blake. Why had she put only his given name? She should have addressed it to the Earl of Diamond. With a start, Nicki realized their relationship had traveled well beyond the formality of stuffy titles.

  Her fingers traced his name, recalling the time spent by the stream. An intense sadness brought tears to her eyes and a growing lump at the back of her throat. The earl could be captivating when he allowed the sharp planes of his face to soften. When he smiled, the whiteness of his teeth contrasted quite devastatingly against the darkn
ess of his skin. No woman in her right mind could withstand the attraction of such masculine appeal.

  Nicki admitted she had fallen under the earl's spell for a time.

  She pressed her cool hands to her cheeks. Next she would be spouting poetry. Lifting the note, she rose to her feet. She must stop thinking about his charm and dwell on what truly mattered. He had deceived her, behaved despicably with regard to her family, and he had stolen Teddy's inheritance. Teddy whom she loved.

  If the earl married Mina, there would be no need for him to finance a Season in London, though Nicki intended to insist that he still pay off her father's creditors. If Mina already admired Blake, then she would be happy with him. In time Nicki would come to forgive him for what he had done, for Mina's sake.

  Nicki would be free. Free to be with Teddy.

  That was what she wanted.

  The smooth parchment rested lightly in her hands as Nicki closed her eyes and tried to summon Teddy's face to mind. An image formed of an angular jaw, wide mouth, high cheek bones beneath eyes like a silver lake frozen by the harshness of winter, dark brows too ready to draw together in a frown, a fine straight nose . . .

  All she could picture was Blake.

  Where was the vision of her friend since childhood?

  She concentrated more intensely. Ah, there he was. The full mouth with that ever-ready smile, the dimple in his left cheek, his face flushed, as though he had just come in from the cold, eyes of bright, sparkling amber, hair the color of ripened wheat in the fields . . .

  Nicki opened her eyes. There had never been and would never be anyone for her but Teddy. She had made a vow to him years ago and she could not break it. For a brief interlude she had been taken in by a handsome blackguard, but no more. Was her love truly so weak that she could set it aside so easily? No. Her love was strong. It was her spirit that had wavered. But no more.

  She would marry no one but Teddy.

  Nicki went to the door and listened carefully before easing it open just a crack. The house was quiet—everyone abed. She crept down the hall past several closed doors leading to empty chambers, and finally came to Shelby's bedchamber. Carefully, she eased the door open and stepped inside.

  A smile tugged at her lips at the sight that greeted her. She tiptoed toward the bed where the covers were propped into a tent-like formation. A light glowed from inside.

  “You are going to fall asleep one night and burn all of us alive, young man!”

  The light was instantly extinguished, throwing the room into pitch-blackness. Nicki stubbed her little toe on the heavy bedpost. “Blast it, Shelby! Light the lamp before I fall and break my neck!”

  “Nick? I thought you were Mother. Just a minute . . . ”

  Nicki bent and inventoried her foot for any broken bones as Shelby rustled through the darkness. Brief moments passed before he lit the bedside lamp.

  She rose with what she hoped was a threatening expression. “Whatever are you doing under there?”

  After brief hesitation, he pulled a wooden box from inside the tented blankets. “It's an invention I'm working on.”

  The box seemed harmless enough. “I am sorry, dearest, but the box was invented long ago.”

  “This isn't just a box, Nick. It's a device . . . to catch burglars.”

  She stepped closer to the bed then bent to study the item more closely. “Is there a small constable inside?”

  “It isn't funny, Nick!”

  Nicki stifled a giggle. “Obviously not. I apologize for my lack of proper admiration. Tell me how it works.”

  Shelby's gaze searched her face for further signs of heckling. Satisfied, he turned the box around to reveal several buttons, knobs, and thin pieces of wire. “See this here—you turn this knob and attach the wire to a window, or door, or desk drawer, whatever you're . . . guarding. Once the wire's attached, push this round button here and the device is set. If anyone tries to break in, the wire pulls a lever inside the machine, which rings a bell.”

  “How terrifying for a person. It might just give them a heart attack, then you would catch them for sure.”

  “Nick!”

  She schooled her features into appropriate solemnity. “Pray continue.”

  “While the bell sounds the alarm, the burglar might still get away—so this trap door opens here and a spray of black ink shoots out. I figure it would travel four or five feet. The intruder's covered. Even if he gets away, he'd be easy to track down because he'd be dripping a trail of ink.”

  Nicki looked from the machine to her brother in astonishment. “That is very clever, Shelby. You thought of this all by yourself?”

  He nodded shyly. His hand touched the box with unmistakable pride. “I took some books from Papa's library, but most of it I did on my own.”

  “Well, I am impressed, but I do wish you would find a safer way to work on your project. It is dangerous to have a lamp in bed with you. Promise me you will be careful.”

  “’Course I will. I wouldn't want to damage my invention.”

  She ruffled his dark hair. “I have come to ask a favor, Shelby. You do not have to do it, but it is important to me.”

  “What is it?” He set aside the box and looked up at her with interest.

  Nicki ran her fingers along the face of the note before handing it to Shelby. “I want you to take this to the earl at once. I realize it is late and very dark outside. If you are afraid, you do not have to go.”

  He took the note. “What does it say? Can't it wait ’til tomorrow?”

  “I want the earl to have time to think about what is in the message. Will you do it?”

  “’Course I will. I like Blake. When you marry him, I hope you'll let me come visit you.”

  Nicki blinked rapidly to banish the moisture from her eyes. “Please be careful, Shelby. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

  “What's in the note, Nick?”

  She shook her head and tousled his hair once again. “Never you mind, just see that the earl gets it. Do not worry, Shelby, I have taken care of everything.”

  Shelby climbed from the bed, still fully clothed. Nicki could see the questions in his blue eyes, but she could not bring herself to speak for fear of bursting into tears. She turned and fled the room.

  . . .

  Blake bent over the account ledgers for Rosewood. Impatiently, he scratched out several figures he had noted in his own journal after realizing he had entered them twice. He massaged his forehead with one hand as he once again attempted to find the place he had left off.

  He reached for one of two messages delivered by a footman from Diamond Hall that morning. The name Harrison Ransom, Viscount Merchant, was scrawled in black ink across the face of the white missive. Such a dignified title for the petulant boy he remembered following him about on his visits home from school.

  Harry. Aunt Sophia, as his father's closest living relative after himself, must have held high hopes for her son at her brother's death. According to a clause in Barrett Dylan's will, if Blake had remained in America, Harry would have become the next Earl of Diamond. Now Harry was welcoming him home, offering his assistance, as well as that of his mother.

  The footman, sleeping off his exhausting journey in a soft bed, awaited Blake's response before returning to London. The man would just have to enjoy the hospitality of the country for a while longer until Blake could pen the appropriate reply.

  Blake rubbed his forehead again, as though the motion would still the thoughts racing about inside his mind.

  Why in the devil had he come back? America was his home now. And as the second message proved, he had much business to take care of there as well. His solicitor in Boston was already hounding him to return as soon as possible.

  Blake had turned his back on his heritage years ago when his father banished him from England. But there remained this burning need to return—to finish all that had been left incomplete with his abrupt departure. Some matters would be left incomplete forever, fo
r his father had died two months before. Others required his personal attention.

  And the Duke of Billington fell into that category. Blake's hatred had centralized upon him. Over the years he had carefully thought out each move, then acted with cool precision. Bit by bit, he had stripped Billington of his wealth, just as Blake's had been taken from him—at Billington's insistence.

  Last, but certainly not least, there was Theodore Bartholomew. Dear Teddy. Friend, betrayer. Thus far the revenge he enacted against Teddy had been too easy. Weaknesses were there to be exploited and Teddy had more than his fair share.

  Blake's enmity toward three men—his father, Jonathon Langley, and Teddy Bartholomew—had burned through him. His desires over the past years had focused on destroying Billington and Teddy, and somehow making his father regret turning away from him. But his father, always one to have the last word, did so yet again with his death.

  Such was life.

  By his return, Blake had claimed his birthright, taken possession of Teddy's house, and arranged to become engaged to Billington's daughter—and the girl Teddy claimed to love. Now Nicole would be his wife.

  Her inheritance would become his and those two men who needed money so desperately would not be able to lay a hand on one pound.

  The final revenge. Then he would at last find peace.

  The vast emptiness inside of him yawned like an icy cavern, testimony to the lonely existence he had made for himself. Somehow, the fleeting moments in Nicole's company had brought a temporary warmth back into the cold chasms of his soul. Blake faced that fact with no small degree of unease. He had chosen his path and followed it with a surety that came easily to him.

  Originally, his plan had been to entrap Nicole into marriage, to get an heir out of her, and to leave her to a comfortable life. That was more than she could hope for by marrying Teddy, or some man her father made a contract with.

  Now he wondered what it would be like to please her, to see those aquamarine eyes sparkle with warmth—a warmth directed at him alone. He wondered what it would be like to be the man he saw reflected in her heart.