Diamonds and Dreams (43 page)

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Authors: Rebecca Paisley

Tags: #historical romance, #regency romance, #humorous romance, #lisa kleypas, #eloisa james, #rebecca paisley, #teresa medeiros, #duke romance

BOOK: Diamonds and Dreams
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And there were other items for sale also.
Matches, shoe blacking, cutlery, razors, glassware, and hatchets.
Caged birds squawked. Goldie saw metal trays and tin jewelry. Some
stalls contained candlesticks, iron kettles, and music boxes. She’d
never seen so many wares.

She looked far down the street, its pavement
stained green by the leaves of vegetables that had been smashed
into it over the years, and saw a long line of pony carts and
donkey barrows. “Great day Miss Agnes, there’s so much to see
here!”

Saber added a last orange to the bag, taking
care to stay well within the confines of the coach as he paid the
woman for the fruit. “Tonight most of London will be eating the
food you see now, poppet,” he informed her as he began peeling an
orange, its sharp, tangy aroma filling the carriage. “I think every
cook in the city is here picking out dinner.” He muttered a curse
when his peel broke before he’d gotten it completely off the
orange. Shrugging, he picked up another and tried again.

“And these flowers,” Goldie said, fingering
a bunch of violets a young girl held out to her. “ Will most of
London have fresh flowers in their houses too?”

Saber nodded. “And you will be no
exception.” He purchased a thick bunch from the girl. Upon further
reflection, he bought the entire basket of violets, handing the
sweet-smelling gift to Goldie.

“All of ’em?”

The delight in her eyes warmed him all over.
“All of them, poppet.”

“I—Oh, Saber, nobody’s ever given me flowers
before.” She buried her face into the fragrant mass of dark purple
blossoms.

He digested that bit of information.
“Indeed.”

“You didn’t have to buy
all
of ’em.
You didn’t have to buy
any
. “

“But you liked them.”

She cocked her head to her shoulder. “Well,
yeah, but I—This many flowers—Are you sure—”

“I’m quite sure.” He felt confused. “Goldie,
why is it so hard for you to believe I bought you a simple basket
of flowers? You acted this same way when I gave you the brush. It’s
almost like you don’t think you deserve to have pretty things.
Why—”

“It’s time to go home now, Saber. I promised
Miss Lucy and Miss Clara that I wouldn’t stay out all day long.
It’s not considered proper, y’know.” She stuck her head out the
door, yelling. “Let’s go, Sir Carriage Driver!” With that, she
slammed the door shut.

As the coach jolted forward, Saber’s
confusion grew to bewilderment. “Tell me about the violets, Goldie.
Why—”

“They’re very nice.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.
You couldn’t believe I bought you a
bunch
, much less the
entire basket. Now, I want to know why you—”

“I’m too tired to talk.”

He felt angry. Dammit,
why
wouldn’t
she open up to him!
Why
did she continue refusing to share
her feelings with him! “Goldie, I’ve been as patient with you as I
know how to be. I’ve waited for weeks for you to tell me about the
things you carry inside you. I even told you what I’d decided about
you in the hopes that you would elaborate! But you didn’t. You say
I
don’t talk about
myself?
Neither do you!”

She said nothing. Forgetting she had no
legs, she drew them up beneath her, closing herself to him.

“Who told you you aren’t good enough to have
flowers? To have anything? What happened to you that makes you
think good and pretty things aren’t to be yours? Dammit, crawl out
of that shell, Goldie, and right now!”

Her only escape would be to jump out of the
coach again. She knew if she did, Saber would follow and catch her.
Anxiety twisted through her. “How long did it take you to get used
to havin’ all the things Addison gives you, Saber?” she cried,
struggling in vain to remain calm. “You were poor before he found
you! When he started helpin’ you so much, wasn’t it a little hard
for you to believe it was really happenin’? And did you ever lay in
bed at night, wonderin’ if when you woke up, it would all be gone?
And did it ever cross your mind that maybe your good fortune was
all a mistake?”

“A mistake?”

She tried to stem her flow of words, but
failed. “You don’t understand, do you? Maybe you just don’t
remember what it’s like! I—Saber, I’ve never had anything! And
now—Since I met you, I’ve had almost everything I’ve ever dreamed
of havin’! I’ve never eaten such find food! And off such fragile
china! I’ve never lived in such fancy houses or slept in such big,
soft beds! I’ve never ridden in these elegant coaches, or washed
with such sweet soap, or bathed in such huge, golden tubs!”

“But you are now! Can’t you accept and enjoy
them while—”

“I
am
enjoyin’ ’em! But don’t you
see, Saber? They’re gonna go away! Dreams, all of ’em! You know how
dreams are! You wake up, and they’re over! Uncle Asa, he—”

When she clamped her lips closed, he moved
to her side of the carriage, taking her by her shoulders. “What
about
Uncle Asa, Goldie? Tell me what the man did to you!
Tell me about the terrible things that—”

“No!”

“Tell me!”

“No!”

“I’ll never stop asking you, Goldie. Day in
and day out, I’ll ask. Every second of every minute of every hour!
I’ll keep on—”

“You can’t! You can’t because you won’t be
with me that long! After you play the duke in Hallensham, you’ll
have to leave, and I’ll never see you again!” Covering her face
with her hands, she sobbed.

He held her in his arms, rocking her back
and forth. “Oh, Goldie,” he whispered, his heart pounding. “I—”

“It’s
always
like this!” she cried,
too upset to guard her words any longer. “Every time somethin’ good
wanders into my life, it goes away! Uncle Asa says it’s because I
don’t really deserve it! He says that until I’m good enough to have
my diamond dreams, the Dream Giver won’t let ’em come true for me!
He said—”

“Dream giver? Goldie, who—”

“God,” she choked, tears burning her cheeks.
“I think the Dream Giver is God.”

“God? But Goldie, how can your uncle presume
to know what God—”

“I’ve never been anything but a bother to
Uncle Asa! Always trailin’ along behind him! Always hungry or
wantin’ somethin’! Sometimes—Sometimes I wonder if he drinks just
to find an escape from havin’ to put up with me!”


He
puts up with
you
?” Saber
roared. “What about what you’ve taken from him? The trouble he
causes everywhere you go! The constant—”

“And all my cryin’! Oh, Saber, I wish I
didn’t cry so much! It makes him so furious! But I—Things are
so—”

“Sad,” he supplied. “So sad, Goldie, that
you’ve every right to cry! Who
wouldn’t
cry over such—”

“I know he loves me, but I wish...”

“You wish what, Goldie?” Saber asked, every
fiber of him straining to hear her answer. “For the love of God,
tell me what you wish!”

Clinging to his neck, she closed her eyes.
“I wish lots of things.”

“But what are they?”

Many long moments passed before she
answered. “You aren’t the Dream Giver, Saber,” she whispered,
exhaustion creeping through her. “And they’re all diamond dreams
anyway.”

“Diamonds? Is that what you wish for,
Goldie? Diamonds?”

“Diamonds,” she murmured. “Diamond
dreams.”

He looked down and saw she’d fallen asleep.
Settling himself in the corner of the seat, he pulled her into his
arms, holding her as tenderly as he ever had before.

Her every word came back to him. “Years of
being told you weren’t good enough to have nice things, of being
denied everything you wished you could have. And I know, Goldie,”
he whispered, gazing down at her soft features, “that you didn’t
ask for much. You probably wanted sweets every now and then. Maybe
a dress with pretty lace on it. You wished for hair ribbons, a
kitten, a small bottle of scent. You wished for all the simple
things any young girl would want to have.

“But most of all,” he continued, “you wished
for love. You had every right to it, but it was denied you just
like everything else.”

He became silent and lifted Goldie higher,
so her face was buried within the warm crook of his shoulder. So
many emotions had hold of him, he was unable to concentrate on any
of them. He knew only that all the tender things inside him, all
the soul-touching feelings, were for Goldie.

An hour later, when the carriage stopped in
front of his house and nighttime had fallen, he was still holding
her next to his heart, his emotions still ebbing gently through
him.

The driver opened the coach door; Itchie Bon
bounded out. Saber handed the man cab fare, grabbed the basket of
violets and the bag of oranges, and alighted, Goldie still cuddled
in his arms. As the coach rolled away, he looked down at her again
and saw her eyes were open. “We’re home, poppet.”

She smiled sleepily, squirmed from his arms,
and smoothed her skirts. “We didn’t get home before dark,” she said
worriedly. “Your aunts are—”

“They’re visiting with friends tonight,
remember? It’s too early yet for them to be home. I imagine they’ll
be gone for several more hours. If you don’t tell them you arrived
after dark, they won’t know. I assure you your secret is safe with
me.”

He handed her her basket of violets and gave
her his elbow. When she curled her hand around his arm, he covered
it with his own. As he led her toward the steps, Itchie Bon began
to growl. “What is it, boy?” Saber asked. “What—” A movement in the
dark grove of trees beside the house captured his attention.
Squinting, he saw a man emerge from the shadows. The man’s small
cloth cap, neckerchief, long, four-pocketed coat, and sturdy boots
were typical of a costermonger, and Saber wondered what the street
vendor was doing so close to the house. “You there! What do you
want?”

The man’s response was to draw up his arm
level to his shoulder. His odd action sent foreboding streaming
through Saber. Reacting instinctively, he pushed Goldie to the
steps, shielding her body with his own. Gunfire shattered the
silence of the night. The basket of violets toppled down the steps,
spilling to the pavement. “Goldie!” he shouted, terrified that she
wouldn’t answer. “Goldie—”

“M-my violets,” she whispered. “My
f-f-flowers.”

“Goldie, are you hurt? Are you—”

“My violets...gone. All gone. Just like
everything nice.”

When she began shaking violently, Saber
realized she was close to going into shock. “Goldie, I’ll buy you
more flowers! I’ll—” He gaped down at her, her strange concern
about her flowers making him gasp. Dear God, maybe she’d been shot,
and pain was clouding her mind! Frantically, he tried to examine
her, but the tight curl of her body prevented him from doing so. He
rose, looked at the grove and saw Itchie Bon sniffing the ground.
Reassured that the assailant had fled, he lifted Goldie into his
arms, and pounded on the door with his foot.

“Sir!” Bennett exclaimed upon opening the
door. “I heard a shot! I—”

Saber tore past the man and raced toward the
staircase.

“My violets,” Goldie whispered. “My
flowers.”

Saber turned and saw Bennett still standing
by the door. “Get the damn violets!” he commanded the butler.

Three steps at a time, he climbed the
stairs, his heart banging in his chest, fear for Goldie throbbing
wildly through his veins. Reaching her bedroom, he rushed inside,
placed Goldie on her bed, and lit several candles.

“Don’t be hurt, Goldie,” he commanded,
bending over her and fumbling with the fastenings on her dress.
“Don’t be hurt!” He saw his hands shake, cursed his terrible fear,
and tried once again to remove her dress.

Goldie took his hands into her own.
“Saber—”

“Goldie, I can’t see! Is there blood? Dear
God, are you bleeding? I can’t get the dress—Goldie, tell me—”

“I’m not hurt.”

“The buttons won’t—”

“Saber, I’m not hurt.”

He made fists of his quivering hands. “Are
you sure?”

“I’m not hurt.”

“Sir,” Bennett panted from the doorway. “The
violets.” He lifted the basketful of ruined flowers. “There is a
hole in this basket, sir. Is Miss Mae—”

“She’s fine. Bring me the flowers.”

Bennett obeyed. “I also collected the
oranges, sir.” He cast a look of tender concern at Goldie then left
the room, shutting the door.

Goldie took the basket from Saber, and, one
by one, she removed each bunch of violets, placing them on her
stomach. When she’d taken them all out, she gathered the crushed
blossoms in her arms, bringing them to her face.

“Goldie, I’ll buy you more violets,” Saber
promised, confused by her preoccupation with the flowers. “Stay
here, poppet. I’ve got to go see if that man is somewhere—”

“No!”

“Goldie, that man shot—”

“No!” The one word escaped on a long, loud
sob. “Hold me, Saber! Don’t leave me! Please, just hold me!”

Her tears almost killed Saber; they erased
all thought of trying to find the assailant. He lay down beside
Goldie, drawing her close to him. Violets fell all over him when
she turned to him. Her tears wet his shirt, her soft cries burned
his soul. He said nothing, but simply held her close like she’d
asked him to do. And as he did, the thought of what had happened
stabbed into him.

She’d almost been killed tonight, he raged.
The bullet that might have ended her life had found the basket
instead. But for that, she might be dead right now. Just like all
the people he’d loved and lost.

Smoothing Goldie’s hair, he concentrated on
the fear that still rumbled through him. The thought of losing her,
too, was unbearable to him. It filled him with horrible emptiness
and anguish.

“Goldie,” he choked.

Hearing the painful distress in his voice,
she lifted her gaze to him. The sight of his sorrow-etched face
touched something so deep inside her, she couldn’t understand what
it was. Taking shelter in his strong arms, every shred of fear left
her, replaced by soothing tranquility. Slowly, she brought his head
closer to her, kissing him with all the tender emotion flowing from
her heart.

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