Heart of the Diamond (37 page)

Slanted green eyes surveyed Cecilia. “That is very generous of you, Nicole.”

Cecilia jumped down from the small stool she stood upon. “Duchess, I . . . I assure you my mother will compensate you for the gowns . . . ”

“Nonsense, young lady. You are family and I agree with Nicole's philosophy of the sinfulness of waste. Now, perhaps if you allow your hair to fall naturally about your face . . . ” Angelica perfunctorily ran her fingers through the twin sausages dangling on either side of the girl's cheeks. Cecilia's hair, a rich chestnut, was cropped to a length just below the ear, as was the fashion. The looser curls, combined with the flattering color of the dress, was nothing short of miraculous.

Nicki gasped. “Your own mother would not recognize you, Cel!”

Angelica took Cecilia's shoulders and turned her toward the full-length mirror. The girl touched her hair in amazement. “I wouldn't know myself!”

“Now back to compensation.”

Nicki looked at her stepmother strangely. “But Angelica, I thought we agreed . . . ”

“No, Nicki. Of course I must make it right,” Cecilia argued.

Angelica stood back, one finger touching her chin thoughtfully. She moved around Cecilia as though assessing the straightness of a portrait hanging on the wall. “Yes, I believe you will.”

Nicki moved between the pair. “Angelica, you cannot mean to accept her money!”

“Money? Do not be absurd. I meant that Cecilia should be one of the attendants at your wedding. This green should go nicely with Mina's buttercup.”

Stunned, Nicki could say nothing. Mina rushed forward. “How wonderful! The earl is having the Westland twins stand up with him. Percival told me only last evening.”

“Oh, no. I could never—I should faint dead away if I had to stand up in front of so many people.”

Taking Cecilia's arm, Nicki turned her back to the mirror. “If I can do it, so can you.” They laughed at their reflections. “It is decided then.”

Angelica's face appeared between them, a slight smile gracing her lips. “If Nicole does not put on that gown, there may be no wedding for either of you to worry about.”

“But, Nick, Simms said if I used the contraption again he'd go to Papa.”

With a sigh, Nicki leaned back against the side of Shelby's bed and tucked her feet beneath her skirts. “He was just angry because you used it on him. He did not mean for you never to use it again.”

Shelby nodded slowly, obviously still uncertain. “If you say so. I'm certain Em will give me more of her preserves.”

“Good.” Nicki turned to her sister seated next to her on the floor. “Mina, you will watch for anyone behaving suspiciously.”

Mina grinned. “It seems we shall be the only people acting odd.”

“This is very important to me, you two, but I do not want you risking your safety. If you see or hear anything suspicious, come for me at once. Do not investigate on your own. Is that clear?”

“When do I get to use my device, Nick? I need to make one or two adjustments.”

Nicki thought for a moment. With the wedding scheduled for Saturday, only two days remained. “It will have to be Friday night, Shelby. Can you be ready?”

“Me and Em almost have it ready, but she's awful busy with a houseful of people and all.”

“And I may not be able to learn much before then.” Mina casually braided a lock of dark hair. “Why is it so important that we act Friday?”

Nicki's hand traced the pattern of the carpet. She smiled as her fingers found a piece of thin wire embedded in the fibers. Shelby's room must be filled with remnants of his inventions, for his endeavors in the past had never been as successful as his burglar device. “There is just no more time.”

Shelby sprawled next to her, his chin resting on his hand. “It'll be ready by Friday, I promise.”

Mina, ever the lady, sat with her legs curled to the side, her back straight. “I shall do my best.”

“Good.” Nicki rose and shook out her skirts. Her sister and brother followed her lead. She glanced from one face to the other. “Whatever would I do without the two of you?”

Both surged forward and Nicki wrapped her arms around each of them. Her family. She would do anything to protect them. And in her heart, she knew they would do anything she asked without question because of the love they had for her. If only her happiness did not risk theirs.

Shelby lifted his face to hers, his blue eyes earnest. “It isn't the earl, Nick. We all know it isn't.”

Nicki ruffled his dark curls. “You like Blake very much.”

“He always talks to me—even when most everyone else doesn't know I exist. And he cares about you, too—
really
cares. Not just pretends to care.”

“Shelby Langley,” Nicki was surprised by his remark, “who pretends to care when they do not?”

He flushed and backed away slightly. “Mr. Bartholomew. I don't like him. He's always staring . . . at you and the earl.”

Mina laughed. “That's called jealousy, dear brother. Generally one cares a great deal when they experience such an emotion. Perhaps more than they should. Teddy has been Nicki's friend since she was much younger than you are now. He might have believed she would marry him one day. Now that she is to be married to another—he finds he is helpless and it makes him behave strangely.”

“Well—Blake doesn't like him and he doesn't like it when he talks to Nick. If he doesn't like him, I don't like him.”

Nicki's heart slammed in her breast at Shelby's words. How much pain was she to bear before this ordeal would be over? “You must learn to make your own judgments about people, Shelby. The earl feels he has reason to dislike Teddy, but his reasons are his own. No matter how much you care for him, you must form your own conclusions.”

Shelby's eyes filled with tears, startling Nicki. “You think the contraption will trap Blake, don't you?”

“I . . . I truly hope not. In my heart I am certain of his innocence. But I cannot trust my feelings in this. Too much is at stake. I have to behave logically.”

Mina reached out and pushed the ever-wayward strand of hair back from Nicki's face. “I never thought to say this, but I miss my reckless sister. At least she was happy.”

“But it was my disregard for convention that landed us in this mess. To get us out, I must follow the rules.”

“Spying and burglar traps are following the rules? Oh, Nicki, you are too much!”

Nicki reached for Shelby. She drew both her siblings into her arms for one more embrace. “Somewhere at the end of all this madness is a happy ending for us all. I have to believe that or I shall go mad.”

“The horses are the money makers, but they've been Nick's idea from the beginning. This is my dream. It does little more than break even, but I'm damn proud of it.”

Blake glanced from Jonathon's glowing face to a long, ramshackle building. From inside blared the noise of grinding machinery and men shouting to be heard over the din. “What is it?”

Jonathon's eyes filled with an unmistakable pride. “A toy factory.”

“Toys?” His solicitor's report had contained nothing about a factory. “I should think that quite a lucrative venture.”

“If I sold all the product it might be, but I've always wanted to do something for those less fortunate than myself. I work with churches across England and donate most of the toys for the Yuletide season. The more extravagant toys are sold to several elite shops in London, but I don't supply enough to do well. The monies mostly cover my expenses in producing the toys that are given away.”

Blake once again looked at Jonathon, a curious tightness in his chest. “I would be interested in having a look inside.”

“Of course, man. I didn't bring you here to admire the exterior.”

Contrary to his expectation, upon entering the building the noise seemed scarcely louder than it had from outside. Several men nodded in greeting as they rushed past Blake. He noted they had stuffed pieces of cloth in their ears. That explained the shouting.

“How many men do you employ?” Blake shouted.

Jonathon leaned close to hear Blake's words. “Fifty men and two dozen women. The women sew the dresses and paint the faces on the dolls, as well as doing the fine work on all the carved animals. They can also do some work at home, which seems to work out well for both of us.”

“And the price you get from the toys sold in London pays for wages and expenses?”

“Yes, as well as a bonus at Yuletide for the workers. They love the work as much as I do.”

The hot steamy air inside the building was a drastic change from the chill of the air outside. Blake removed his coat. Jonathon, his already ruddy complexion several shades darker, followed suit. “What type of fire causes this heat?”

Jonathon nodded toward a doorway several yards down the hall. “Come, I'll show you.”

The older man moved ahead, his excitement lending him speed. Blake increased his stride to catch up. Jonathon disappeared through a wide doorway and Blake followed. He stopped short as the full force of humid heat hit him in the face.

“Good God, the man is using steam,” he murmured incredulously.

“Blake!”

Jonathon had moved quite a distance ahead to stand beside an immense steel barrel with a multitude of steel tubing snaking from its rounded sides. Blake joined him. He stifled the urge to stare about him like an awestruck boy, but he had not felt such absolute amazement since he had left his childhood.

“I have read several articles on the use of steam to power machinery,” he said. “You have gone one step further, I see.”

“It's a marvelous thing, though the temperature causes working conditions to be somewhat uncomfortable. We've cut a few ventilation holes, and it has helped some. I visited the steam-powered printing press in London when it first began operation almost five years ago. I learned much from that.”

As he finished his speech, one of the tubes burst free from the barrel and hot steam spewed wildly in their direction. Jonathon, reacting with surprising speed, thrust Blake aside while a man in a leather mask rushed forward and swiftly grabbed the tube with heavily gloved hands. In moments, he had returned the tubing to its place and secured it. He bobbed his masked head toward Jonathon then disappeared back into the maze of machinery.

“Quick thinking, Langley. We could have been badly burned.”

Jonathon took a linen kerchief from his pocket and mopped at his forehead. “Sadly, it happens quite often. Steam builds up a good deal of pressure. The man in the leather helm is our safety overseer. It's his job to check the fittings periodically, but there just isn't a fool proof system.”

They moved on to a wide belt onto which dropped slabs of wood of varying sizes. The belt moved on rollers, obviously steam-powered. At the end of the belt stood a man who directed the different sizes of wood onto separate belts, each moving to a machine that chopped them into shapes before continuing to the next stage. Doll heads, legs, and arms; rocking horses; barrels and stocks of miniature pistols; bodies and wheels of tiny carts. The finished pieces then dropped into a large wooden cart on wheels. When the box was full it was rolled away to be replaced by another.

Following the progress of one cart, Blake and Jonathon went into a separate room divided into four sections. In one corner, men stood at a table where they smoothed the edges of the wooden pieces before transferring them into baskets. The baskets were then taken to the next station where they were painted and set out to dry.

Jonathon directed Blake to stop, and they paused to watch the skilled painters make faces out of circles of wood, and colorful circus ponies out of plain rocking horses. One basket was filled with dry pieces as they watched. Jonathon motioned for Blake to follow to the third station. Here dolls received hair and were attached to bodies made of stuffed linen; ponies grew manes and tails, wagon wheels were attached to their frames, and guns were assembled.

The next station completed the toy. The dolls were clothed in frilly dresses and matching stockings. Some got bonnets, others aprons. No two were exactly the same. The horses were saddled and bridled.

The finished product was carefully wrapped in canvas and stored in a slatted box. Jonathon flirted pleasantly with the women who flushed with pleasure at his attention. Blake nodded politely as Jonathon introduced him. One woman smiled.

“I'm Gillian Willis. You met my husband Samuel. It's a treat to have a master at Rosewood who cares what happens to it.”

“The estate is a fine one and your husband has been a skilled overseer.”

Jonathon waved to the women. He took Blake's arm to lead him out the rear door. It took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the brightness. Once again, he noted Langley had charged ahead. Shaking his head, Blake followed.

This Jonathon was someone Blake had never seen before—never imagined existed. He experienced the same tightening in his chest again. The Langleys were an odd bunch, but damned if they were not admirable in their eccentricities. To go to this extent to see that children had some joy at Christmas was a concept Blake had trouble imagining. The modern machinery must have cost the man a small fortune, but better to spend it on this venture than lose it on some other that Blake could turn sour?

He had done nothing since his arrival at Rosewood to further Langley's downfall, and after what he had just seen, he did not know if he could go forward with any more schemes.

As Blake untied his horse and mounted, he noticed Jonathon watching him.

“You're quiet, Lord Diamond.”

“You have given me a good deal to think about, Your Grace.”

Jonathon turned his head slightly, his eyes serious. “It's just a toy factory, no matter how it pleases me. But there are things in this world I value much more highly. My family, for instance.” He mounted his horse.

Gathering the reins, Blake turned the horse so that he and Jonathon faced each other. “Your family is close. One does not need any special powers of discernment to see that.”

“I know you don't respect me, and I admit I understand most of your motives. But Nicki isn't me. She's a special part of me, but she's not me.”