Desire Wears Diamonds (23 page)

Sterling sat back, stretching his legs out
in front of him. “Good. We are in accord at last, dear Grace. Now,
be a good girl, sit quietly and let your brother think. There are
preparations to be made and while others would rush the game, I am
not a man without compassion.”

She pressed one hand over her own mouth to
keep a hysterical bubble of deranged laughter from slipping past
her lips.
Compassion? God help me…what game are we
playing?

“Don’t worry, sister. You’ll make a
beautiful bride.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“You’ll marry her.”

Michael didn’t move in his seat across from
Sterling and held his silence for a moment. The man’s study was a
small room cluttered with a collection of exotic bits and pieces in
a dark mash that made Michael miss the warmth and welcome of his
friend Dr. West’s library. He’d come early at Sterling’s command,
but Michael Rutherford had no intention of surrendering.

Not one blessed inch of ground.

At last, Michael summoned a reply. “No.”

“What did you say?” Sterling asked, openly
flabbergasted.

“I said, no. You see, there is a bit of a
large hole in your net, Porter.” Michael sighed. “You’ve misjudged
my character.”

“Have I?”

“I’m no gentleman to worry about my
reputation, Sterling. I’m a common man and I have enough friends.
What do I care if my name is struck off the invitation lists for
the dry-chalk conversations of some crusted Duke’s card party or a
Dowager’s childish birthday party for her dogs?” He wrinkled his
nose at the notion. “I’d rather take a flogging.”

“You compromised my sister!”

“I
kissed
your sister. Grace is…very
lovely.” Michael stiffened his spine unwilling to appear too
engaged in the matter or share the truth of his affections with a
man he hated. Any advantage the Jackal had sought to gain, Michael
wanted to deny him. “I am willing to make an apology and offer what
amends that Grace feels suitable but I’d say that should end
it.”

“You
ruined
her! You publicly
ruined
her!” Sterling’s hands were splayed against his desk
blotter, as if he were preparing to leap over its surface. “Are you
saying you also care nothing for her reputation?”

Time to lie to your face, you
blackguard.

Michael shrugged, taking on a nonchalance he
hardly felt. “Grace made it clear in the garden that she has no
interest in…traditional options,” Michael said calmly. “Perhaps you
weren’t paying attention but before God and an entire balcony of
people, she swore she wouldn’t marry me.”

“That is
not
her choice to make.”

“Isn’t it?” Michael asked. “Porter, our
private business aside, if I thought for a moment that she was
truly hurt by this or that I could amend the mistake by making a
greater one, I wouldn’t argue but—“

Sterling stood suddenly and rang a bell on
his desk.

It was so shockingly unexpected and oddly
formal that Michael had to catch his breath.
Am I about to be
escorted out by an elusive footman he thinks he has on duty? Or the
prune-faced housekeeper?

Michael stood slowly, desiring to be on his
feet just in case the door was about to burst open with several
thugs wielding knives. Before he could think of a clever jest on
the matter, the door slowly opened and Grace stood in the doorway
to the small room.

The glittering vision of robin’s egg blue
had been replaced by grey muslin and black velvet trim but that
wasn’t the only drastic change. There was no sign of the spirited
creature he’d held in his arms. Her head was bowed, her face
averted from him with her shoulders hunched over as she meekly
stepped inside and stood against the wall.

“Greet our guest, Grace.” Sterling commanded
softly.

Slowly, she lifted her face and Michael’s
heart stopped.

“Good morning, Mr. Rutherford.” Her bottom
lip was trembling with the effort it took her to keep her composure
but it was the angry bruise across her cheek and the swollen ruin
around her left eye that made his stomach churn with fury.

My God! He broke her! That son of a
bitch!

“Go back to your room, Grace.”

She curtsied, not even risking another
glance at Michael, before she turned to leave closing the door
behind her. Michael caught a glimpse of Mrs. Dorsett waiting in the
hall and the entire horrifying picture dropped into place.

“Now, before you do something stupid,
Rutherford and grab my shirt collar and start bellowing about how I
treat my sister, I should remind you that under the law, I am well
within my rights. While you…” Sterling’s smile faded away. “You
care nothing for your reputation, have proudly announced that you
are no gentleman and that my sister’s standing is hardly your
concern.”

Michael closed his eyes to try to absorb the
white-hot rage that was exploding behind his eyelids.
Why? Why
didn’t I foresee this?

And then it all came to him in a single
flash of clarity.

There was no way on God’s green earth that
Grace Porter was going to remain under her brother’s roof for a
minute more than circumstances required and there was nothing he
wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice to see to it. He would solve more
than one problem by getting her clear of Sterling’s reach and no
matter how much she hated him for a forced marriage, it would be
worth it.

Once he had Grace, she would be safe.

And Sterling will think he’s got me in
hand—right up until the moment he doesn’t.

He opened his eyes and refocused on the man
across the desk. Time slowed and Michael shook off every emotion
that would hinder his ability to think. It was a shooter’s trick
and he invoked it with the ruthlessness of a mercenary.

“I’ll marry her.”

It was Sterling’s turn to be surprised.
“Without hearing my terms?”

“Your terms are irrelevant.”

“Good!” Sterling gestured back toward the
chair in front of the desk. “Sit down and we’ll work out the
details.”

Michael didn’t move a muscle.

“Or…” Sterling’s brow furrowed, uncertainty
filtering into his eyes. “Stand then.”

Michael waited a man carved of granite.

“The only delay is the one needed to post
the bans,” Sterling said.

“Omit them. I’m sure you can obtain special
dispensation considering recent events.”

“And why are we suddenly in a hurry, Mr.
Rutherford?” Sterling’s gaze narrowed with suspicion. “Do you think
you can throw me off by playing along?”

“Decide what you want, Porter. You demanded
I marry her and I’ve agreed.” Michael gave him a derisive look as
if Sterling had pissed in his pants. “I begin to comprehend your
weaknesses, Sterling.”

The ploy worked.

Sterling stiffened as if his chair were
electrified and the look of loathing he gifted Michael with was a
balm to his soul. “I’ll be in touch as soon as things are arranged.
See that you don’t leave Town in the next few days.”

Michael didn’t blink. “Anything else?”

“Until I contact you, I forbid you to so
much as cross my doorstep since it is clear that you cannot be
expected to control your animal passions when it comes to Grace and
she behaves no better than a whore under your influence.”



Sterling hummed to himself as he headed up
the stairs to Grace’s bedroom. His plan had worked so well he’d
nearly overthrown his own success. He’d expected to have to make a
vague threat of committing Grace to an asylum if Rutherford didn’t
come to heel, but apparently the sight of her black eye was all
that was needed.

Sterling laughed, giddy with his impending
triumph.

In recent months, he’d have pressed for the
treasure instead of forcing Rutherford into a match first, but he
was learning as he went. The Jaded were as skittish as colts and
even harder to bridle. A ridiculous affection for Grace was all
well and good, but Sterling didn’t trust it.

He wanted Rutherford well and truly bound
before he sprung the trap.

Only then would the giant fool see how he’d
lost the high ground and forfeited his options.
Patience, old
boy. This time. This time, I have him and well within my deadline
to the others! Hell, there’s even room to give the pair a few days
to bond a bit and sample a little marital bliss…Which will make it
all the more effective when I threaten to remove the ground beneath
his feet!

“Grace!” He knocked on her locked bedroom
door. “It’s settled! Rutherford’s agreed and agreed to see to it
soon.” A strangled muffled cry was audible through the wooden door
and Sterling smiled. “There, there! He’s not so bad, is he?”

“Sterling, please!” Grace’s voice was closer
this time, just on the opposite side of the portal. “What can be
gained by this? I’m begging you!”

He rolled his eyes and felt some of his joy
fade. “I’ll have no tears on the day. Cry now and then enough! For
I swear, Grace, if you defy me and try to spoil this or throw a
tantrum in front of the vicar—you’ll spend the rest of your life in
a madhouse sitting in your own filth! Do you hear me?”

He was rewarded with the sound of her tears
and decided that that was as much agreement as the day
required.

He passed Mrs. Dorsett on his way back down
the stairs and stopped her briefly. “Keep her under lock and key,
madam. I’ll not have my sister slipping out to run any more
errands. Is that understood?”

“Of course, Mr. Porter,” the woman said,
nodding.

“What a treasure you are!” Sterling clapped
his hands together and continued on and never saw the pleased blush
that crept up his housekeeper’s face.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Rutherford, you came!” Darius Thorne
stepped forward, relief evident on his face. “There was no real
news after Bascombe’s and you can’t imagine how Ashe has been
chomping at the bit!”

“I can imagine.” Michael surveyed the
gathering, surprised at the size of it. Josiah Hastings was having
a small showing of two paintings for the Royal Society of the Arts
and it was a milestone that their circle had long anticipated.
Michael had naturally expected the Jaded and their wives to be
there and then a few additional acquaintances of each but this…
This was a large public gathering of apparently genteel art lovers
and anyone curious as to what a blind man’s painting would possibly
look like. “I thought it was to be invitation only.”

“It is quite a crowd, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Though we need to find a private
corner to talk. There’s been…a bit of a development and I want
to—“

Lord Winters walked up, unintentionally
interrupting. “Thank God, you’re alive!” Galen lowered his voice to
add, “Not that I entertained speculation otherwise, but Ashe is a
force.”

Lady Winters laughed as she came around to
take Galen’s arm. “Mr. Rutherford, I
never
doubted your
safety but it is a delight to see you again.”

“You’re too kind,” Michael answered then
nervously looked over the crowded gallery again. “I don’t know why
I thought it would be eight or so of us in a room.”

“Eleanor would have preferred it in light of
her nerves,” Haley said in reference to Josiah’s beautiful prim
wife and reluctant model. “I’m afraid we overrode their simple
plans for a quiet reveal. But Mr. Hastings work is too startling
not to garner the public’s attention and praise.”

Darius sighed. “The press hasn’t even gotten
into it yet. I’d say the crush of curious onlookers will only get
worse in a week or two after the Times publishes their critique.
Isabel will regret missing the day.”

“Where is she?” Michael asked bluntly. His
urge to ascertain where everyone was and reaffirm that the Jaded
and the women they loved were all secured was irrationally
strong.

“With Caroline to entertain and distract
her, though fatigue made it a wise choice. Rowan assures me it is a
common complaint when…well, you know…” Darius finished awkwardly,
shy to speak aloud of his wife’s pregnancy but his eyes shone with
pride and pleasure. “You wished to speak privately?”

“Yes.”

Galen looked at his wife, “Would you excuse
me for a moment, dearest?”

Haley pressed her lips together as if she
would refuse but yielded after looking at Michael’s face. “I’ll go,
but don’t think you’re not repeating every word to me later,
Galen.”

“Yes, dear. Every word.” Galen kissed her
hand and released her to retreat with the others to the emptier
side of the room away from the portraits.

Michael shook his head. “So much for our
secrets.”

Darius smiled. “I think it’s charming that
you ever held the illusion that the women weren’t keeping a close
watch, Rutherford.”

“All right, enough,” Galen said. “We’d heard
nothing of you for three days, although Rowan said he received a
pithy note from you indicating that Bascombe’s was nothing we’d
hoped for.”

Michael shook his head at the painful
understatement. “No. It was
nothing
we’d hoped. Is Rowan
coming?”

“Sadly, no,” Darius answered. “He was called
out with Gayle. Some rich client has fallen ill and as Rowan knows,
disease and death don’t often come at convenient times.”

“And Ashe?” Michael pressed on.

“Running late but he should be here any
moment.” Galen crossed his arms. “But now that we know it’s
serious, you’d better tell us.”

“How do you know it’s serious?” Michael knew
it was a waste of effort to delay the inevitable but he was in no
hurry for the agonies ahead.

It was Darius who offered a reply. “Because
you’re taking a roll call like a headmaster before exams.”

“Out with it,” Galen said firmly. “Is it
Bascombe? Did the fat old toad pop up to cause trouble the other
night?”