Desire Wears Diamonds (26 page)

“That’s a good girl,” he intoned again, the
triumphant bite in his voice lessened.

Grace ignored him and the grating sound of
his praise, as if she were a dog that had come to heel. They walked
the rest of the way in silence, through the ground floor and out
into the narrow garden she had worked so hard to make grand for her
brother’s pleasure.

The vicar was there by the small stone bench
and alongside him…

Mr. Rutherford!

Every time Grace saw him, she was struck by
his masculine beauty and imposing presence. Today, the impact was
heightened. He wore a formal coat of dark grey and a snow-white
linen shirt and cravat that set his coloring off to perfection.
With his black hair streaked with white, he looked more like the
Archangel Michael than her shy Mr. Rutherford. Her heart ached at
the wretched position she’d put him in, honorably taking on a
marriage against his will.

There was no music beyond the faint sounds
of the city on the other side of the wall, no decorations beyond
the spring blooms on the plants and trees in their haven and only
Mrs. Dorsett and Sterling in attendance as the required
witnesses.

Grace walked as steadily as she could to Mr.
Rutherford’s side and stepped into a strange dream where she
recited her vows in a hollow voice devoid of feeling; where fear
dominated so that she couldn’t run away; and where the only thing
that felt steady was Mr. Rutherford’s arm.

“Congratulations!” the vicar said and Grace
blinked in shock to realize it was over and she’d hardly been aware
of any of it.

“Thank you,” Mr. Rutherford replied and then
guided her back inside to sign the license and paperwork for the
registry. The vicar had apparently been informed ahead of time that
there would be no lingering over the nuptials and he tacitly helped
them hurry through the last of the process. Mr. Rutherford signed
first, his hand steady and emphatic in the long strokes of his
handwriting. He held the pen out to her and Grace’s courage
faltered. She took the pen and scrawled a name she hoped was her
own, and then lost the battle against tears. “I’m…sorry…I
just…”

“It’s done,” Sterling announced firmly. “For
heaven’s sake, stop that nonsense and—“

“There, there,” Michael stepped in between
them, retaking her arm and effectively cutting off Sterling’s
approach; his presence a shield from the others. “Cry if you wish,
Grace. We’re nearly there,” he said softly for her ears alone.

“She is overcome, Father,” Sterling offered
to the vicar, even as he shot a disparaging look at the pair.

Father Parker nodded, overtly unsympathetic.
“It is all too common, Mr. Rutherford. See that you don’t take it
to heart! Women’s souls are simply weaker and tears a natural
by-product of their delicate nature.”

“Yes, thank you, Father. Why don’t you show
yourself out?” Michael told him without taking his eyes off of
Grace.

Grace looked up, a faint smile crossing her
lips at the delightful awkwardness of Mr. Rutherford tossing out a
man of God on her behalf.

The vicar left in a huff and Sterling
trailed after him, spewing apologies in the man’s wake. And for a
few precious moments, she had Mr. Rutherford to herself.

“Mr. Rutherford,” she began unsteadily as
she pulled the veil from her hair. “I…I don’t know what to say
except—“

“Grace,” he interrupted her gently. “Let’s
get out of this house. Then we can say everything we need to and
speak freely. What say you?”

She nodded, her throat closing with
gratitude and relief.

“Are your bags packed?” he asked.

“By the front door.”

“That is all I need to know.”

Michael retrieved his hat and guided her out
to the foyer. He opened the front door and called out to the
waiting driver he’d hired as they stepped out onto the landing.
“Come get these things if you would. We’ll be leaving
immediately.”

Sterling was at the bottom of the steps
after waving off the vicar and wheeled about in shock. “There’s a
cold luncheon waiting! And I had thought you’d want to have a chat
before you…left with my sister, sir.”

Grace’s fingers tightened on Michael’s arm,
completely adverse to the notion of lingering for a single minute
longer than necessary. Mr. Rutherford looked down into her eyes and
she began to pray that he could read her thoughts.

He nodded and covered her hand with his,
speaking again to her without regard to anyone else. “Grace. Will
you go ahead for me? Will you wait for me at the Grove? Mrs. Clay
is eager to make you comfortable and I—I don’t know the way of it
but if you need some time alone…”

She laughed, an odd hiccup of tears and
mirth. She shook her head. She’d had endless days and nights alone
but his thoughtfulness was unprecedented in her lifetime. “I’ll go
ahead to the Grove and make the best of it. Just please don’t be
too long. I-I don’t know the way of it either, Mr. Rutherford, but
I cannot go back inside this house. I can’t.”

“You never have to cross Sterling’s door
again. I swear it.” He leaned forward and chastely kissed her
cheek, then straightened, a man in command of his surroundings as
he walked her down the steps. “Take her bags. The lady will be
leaving now.”

Sterling sputtered at the abrupt change to
his envisioned plans but thanks to Mr. Rutherford’s firm
instructions, she was safely ensconced inside the cab and her
luggage secured above before her brother could construct any
delays.

Michael closed the carriage door and smiled
encouragingly at her through the window. “Nearly there.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Mr. Rutherford stepped back and the carriage
pulled away at a good pace allowing her only one last glimpse of
the house she’d shared with her brother for eight years and of
Sterling standing on the top step to give the fleeting illusion
that he was looming over Michael, like a dark bird of prey.

Sterling led him back into the house and up
to his first floor study. The room was as depressingly appointed as
Michael recalled from a few days ago and he fought the urge to sigh
aloud. He wasn’t sure he could stomach another lecture on his lack
of honor or be taunted about Grace.

Then again, this might be the time for the
conversation they’d been meant to have all along. Michael chose his
position in the room and stood by the window next to the desk,
bypassing the chairs and any hint that he would “sit like a good
boy”. He kept a clear path to the door whereas if Sterling chose to
take his usual seat behind the desk, he would be hemmed in
relinquishing the advantage of free movement.

Sterling sat at his desk and Michael averted
his gaze out the window. “Why do I have the feeling you aren’t
about to offer your congratulations?”

“Tell me one thing, Rutherford. Tell me you
don’t already love my sister.”

Michael turned around and leaned against the
wall saying nothing.

“Never mind,” Sterling waved off his own
question. “It’s obvious that you do. Why else would you have leapt
to her defense at every turn? Why else would you have submitted to
every ridiculous request I made of you? A ball? Really, Mr.
Rutherford? I could have asked you to escort her to greased pig
races and you’d have done it, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t wish to be uncivil, but I hate you
already so don’t feel the need to try to spur me on.” Michael
deliberately held as still as a cobra about to strike, unnerving
his new brother-in-law. “Make a point or stop talking, Porter.”

Sterling smiled. “You’re right. I’ve wasted
enough time. What was it your secret little club calls me? The
Jackal?”

He’d known. Of course, he’d known but
hearing Sterling say it was still incredible.
My god, we are
having that conversation, aren’t we?

“Yes. One of them wanted to call you
something more illustrious but I thought a small carrion-feeding
cowardly predator suited you better. But what can I do for you,
Sterling?”

“You know what I’m after. It has never
changed.”

Michael’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You
never were clear. We’ve puzzled over it endlessly. Some nonsense
about sacred treasure and threats but then you’d poison an innocent
woman or set fire to a gambling hall…”

“I did not set that fire! You did! Don’t
deny it!” Sterling’s fist pounded on his desk. “You meant to kill
me!”

Michael shook his head. “Tell me, Sterling.
How is it we are in this together?”

“We are in this because I was in that
dungeon, too but not out of chance like the rest of you. I was
after the sacred treasure all along and would have had it after I’d
convinced the raj to let me go. I took note of the layout of his
defenses and meant to return with a good mercenary fighting force
to take the diamond by force since he didn’t agree to my ruse of
presenting the stone as a betrothal gift to one of Queen Victoria’s
daughters.”

“What? You…tried to trade for…an English
princess’s hand in marriage?” Michael struggled to keep his
composure. “I didn’t realize you had that kind of royal influence
or connections, Sterling.”

“Shut up! He was mad enough to believe
anything!”

“Except you, apparently, when you asked to
waltz off with his favorite treasure…”

“I’d have had it if the Sepoy Rebellion
hadn’t broken out and delayed my progress!” Sterling leaned back in
his chair. “By the time I’d convinced my superiors to fund another
attempt once the natives were put down, the raj’s madness led to
his own destruction—and ultimately to your freedom.”

“You never…” Michael took a deep breath.
“You never told anyone that you’d met us down in that hole? You
never sought to aid us while you were negotiating your own way
out?”

It was Sterling’s turn to shrug his
shoulders. “Why would I? There was only one true treasure and I
wasn’t about to share the glory or the profit I’d worked so hard to
uncover for myself.”

“Have you no humanity?”

“Don’t be so dramatic. You survived didn’t
you? Not that I ever expected it, otherwise I can assure you, I’d
have paid closer attention to your names and asked a few more
questions.”

“How unlucky for you.” Michael crossed his
arms and casually shifted his weight to the balls of his feet.
“Well, here is the message I’d have conveyed at the Thistle.
Whatever it is you’re after, the Jaded are in no position to give
it to you and have no interest in your heathen treasure, sacred or
otherwise. We’re trying to get on with our lives and if you’d stop
running a one man campaign of violence against us, we’d have a
better chance at it.”

Sterling’s fury was a beautiful thing to
behold. “One of you has it in his possession! Don’t think to lie to
me, Rutherford! You can’t imagine what I’ve gone through and while
it was necessary to take my time or wait for better opportunities
to make my case, we are both running out of time.”

“Running out of time? Why? Is this
treasure’s power waning?”

“Don’t mock me! My superiors have accused me
of creating the entire story as a scheme to bilk them out of their
money.” Sterling leaned forward on his elbows. “You think I’m
dangerous, Rutherford? You have no idea what devils I have been
forced to kneel before! I’ve promised them a mystic diamond and by
god, I’ll deliver it!”

“It’s a diamond?
Mystic
diamond? What
in the world are they going to do with it when they have it? Magic
shows in Piccadilly Circus to entertain the crowds?”

“They’ll buy it from me then gift it to the
Crown! Of course, I’ve stipulated that I am credited with its
discovery so I’ll then be rewarded accordingly by Her Majesty.”

“They’ll deduct your debts, pay you a
pittance, gift it the Crown and reward you with a handshake! After
all this time, I doubt they’ll be generous, Sterling. I don’t
remember a clerk ever being knighted on a lark.”

“I’m not a
clerk
and I’m no fool!
This is an opportunity for them to be an agent in the matter but if
they seek to cheat me, I have already got a nice fat fish on the
line who will pay handsomely to see a mystic diamond around the
throat of his favorite mistress.” Sterling smiled. “After all, if
my prize can’t land in the hands of a queen, then a prince’s whore
will do! It would serve them all right if I profited while they
were forced to see the treasure they squandered around a
courtesan’s throat.”

“That’s brilliant,” Michael said. “No
offense, but I can see how your time is becoming constricted with
two interested parties pressing you for delivery however I fail to
see where your bad debts and magical promises affect me.”

“Stop trying to play the child, Rutherford.
The Jaded have my diamond and you are going to give it to me.”

“Am I?”

“You are. Because you genuinely love Grace
and the marriage is proof of it. After all, if you were pretending
to care for Grace to get close to me, you’d have thumbed your nose
at my weak threat of scandal and walked away.” Sterling stood
slowly. “But when you realized I might hurt her…”

Michael didn’t bother denying it but waited
patiently for the hammer to fall.

“I have the reins, Rutherford. But like any
good trainer knows, I’m going to give you a run to stretch your
legs and expend some of your energy galloping about before I really
let you feel the bit and the whip.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “I know I’m big
enough to ride but I think you’ve stretched the comparison a bit
too far, Porter. You don’t have the whip-hand with me.”

“I do. Enjoy your honeymoon, Mr. Rutherford.
I am giving you seven days and seven nights as a wedding gift to my
dear little sister.”

“Seven days. That has a biblical ring to
it.”

Sterling didn’t laugh at the jest. “On the
eighth night, if you don’t give me the diamond, I’ll kill Grace and
make it look like you did it.”