Once Upon A Diamond (A sweet Regency Historical Romance)

by Teresa McCarthy

  The other theory was that Gaston wanted Matthew dead because Kate’s brother was the only man with the facts about the captain’s hideous crimes. Yet it seemed impossible for the captain to have recovered so quickly from the fight in the gardens.

  Tucking away his thoughts, Tristan quietly stepped into the room. “Kate. The doctor’s here.”

  Dr. Faber, a noted London physician, stood behind the earl. He nodded toward Tristan, telling him to remove Kate from the room.

  Tristan touched her shoulder. “Sweetheart, it would be best if you moved into the adjoining chamber and clean up. I’ve one of my nightshirts in there and a dressing gown. I’ve sent for some of your things. You can stay close to your brother until he recovers.”

  Recovers? Dies is more likely.

  With red-rimmed eyes, Kate followed his finger toward the door of the connecting room, the bedchamber for the mistress of the house, the earl’s future bride. She peered through the opening. The servants were bringing in hot water for her bath.

  Tristan ached to hold her, comfort her, soothe her crumbling heart. But he kept his distance. It was his fault Matthew was shot. His fault she would lose her only brother. His fault she would be alone. He wished he was in that bed, fighting for his life, not Matthew.

  Kate turned to him, her eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you,” was all she said before she disappeared into the room and closed the door.

  Drained from the evening’s exhausting ordeal, Kate took a deep breath and slipped off her filthy gown. She moved toward the copper tub and dipped her tired body into the warm water.

  Matthew had to live, she told herself. He couldn’t die.

  She wiped the tears from her face and quickly finished her bath. Lying on the bed were Tristan’s nightshirt, dressing gown, and some brown wool stockings. Kate didn’t hesitate. She put them on, tugged on the belt of the gown, and hurried into the adjacent chamber to be with her brother. Propriety was the least of her worries.

  Edward was sitting beside the bed, his expression grim. She stepped toward the doctor who was standing in the corner of the room whispering to Tristan.

  “W–will he live?” she asked.

  “He’s strong,” Dr. Faber replied. “Ball went right through him. But he’s lost a considerable amount of blood. I’m not one of those physicians who does the bloodletting, you know. I have my own ideas about that, but I am worried about a fever. I’ve left some laudanum if he wakes. Give him a few drops. It should help him sleep. The pain will make him want to move. He must stay in bed and keep that shoulder still. I’ll return tomorrow. The boy’s strong as an ox. One never knows about these things. He’s in God’s hands now, child.”

  Kate nodded a thank you. The doctor picked up his bag. Edward rose to give up his seat to Kate and departed with the doctor.

  Tristan stood over Kate, knowing she would not leave her brother’s side. His jaw muscle ticked as he watched her gently wipe Matthew’s head with a wet cloth.

  Her brother looked dead already. Tristan had seen wounds in the war. He had no doubt that Kate’s brother would develop a fever, if he lived long enough for that. Why the devil had Matthew exited first?

  “It’s going to be a long night," he said quietly, touching her shoulder. “Get some sleep in the next room. You can leave the door open. I’ll watch over him. If he wakes, I’ll let you know.”

  Kate’s lips trembled as she shook her head. “Why, Tristan? Who would anyone want to shoot my brother? He wouldn’t hurt anyone. He has no enemies.”

  A handful of tears trailed down her cheeks. Tristan’s felt as if a hand had closed around his heart. “Kate, you aren’t alone. I’m here with you.”

  He knelt by her side, and she turned, burying her face in his shoulders.

  She gulped hard. Suddenly, deep sobs racked her body. “I w-won’t leave him, not until I know he’s all right.”

  “I understand.” Tristan drew in a ragged breath. “But try to at least close your eyes. If you can spare me then, I have to speak with the magistrate. He’s waiting downstairs. I’ll be back later.” He brought her hand to his lips and withdrew from the room.

  It took over an hour for Tristan to explain the shooting to the magistrate. Devin and Edward were in the drawing room as well, listening to the details of the horrendous evening.

  After the magistrate took his leave, Tristan mounted the staircase to his bedchambers. Exhausted from the evening’s ordeal, he opened the door slowly and peered in.

  A twisted smile spread over his face as he took in the sight before him. Kate was asleep on the chair, looking more like an imp swimming in his dressing gown than a grown woman. He immediately recalled the courageous girl at the inn who had fought for his life. Now, that same guardian angel fought for her brother’s life as well.

  Treading closer, Tristan lifted a hand to Matthew’s pale forehead and grimaced. Already too hot. Death would come swiftly.

  He moved toward Kate and swept her into his arms. She seemed so fragile. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow.

  The thought of Kate in danger sent a cold chill throughout his body. He strode into the adjoining room, placing her on the bed. He stared at her blond hair billowing about the pillow, her flawless face, her sweet lips. He would find that diamond, and the danger surrounding him would end. Then Kate could be his bride, and this room would truly be hers.

  But would she ever be his?

  He rubbed a frustrated hand across his face. If Matthew died, would Kate still marry him? Knowing her like he did, headstrong, impulsive, and independent, she might sail back home and put the dreadful ordeal behind her. But he had to keep her. He couldn’t let her leave. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Closing the door, Tristan returned to Matthew’s bedside. He leaned over to wipe the injured man’s forehead with a cool cloth, then sank into the wing chair alongside the bed.

  Hours later the knock on the door startled him. When the maid walked in with his breakfast, he blinked and realized he had been keeping vigil all night.

  “Good morning, my lord.” She placed the breakfast tray on the bed table. “I’ve brought some food for Miss Wilcox as well. Shall I take it to her?”

  “No, leave it here for when she wakes.”

  It was only minutes later when the connecting door swung open. Kate appeared in the oversized dressing gown. Her brown eyes were wide with guilt. “I’ll take care of my brother now. I’m sorry I fell asleep and left you alone.”

  Tristan pointed to the table where the maid had set her breakfast tray. He pushed himself out of the chair, hardly able to look at her. She would be alone if Matthew died. He could not let that happen because of him. It was his duty to marry her now, whether she wanted it or not.

  “He has the fever,” he said. “I’ve been wetting him down with the water.”

  He’s probably going to die. I want you to stay with me. Be my wife. But the words didn’t come. She had already refused his proposal once, what would she say to him now? She needed time.

  But if Kate had any color in her somber face when she woke up, she lost it the moment Tristan’s words hit her ears.

  “The fever?” She scrambled toward her brother’s side. “Please don’t let him die !”

  Tears sprang to her eyes as she wiped the wet cloth across Matthew’s face. Her loving hands willed Matthew to live. Tristan’s throat tightened. She was an angel of mercy, not willing to give up on life. He needed her. Desperately.

  “He won’t die,” she sobbed. “I won’t let him!”

  He let out a shuddering breath. Maybe her love and prayers could get her brother through the worst. Dear, sweet Kate, you’re worth more than all the jewels in England.

  She glanced up, her expression filled with worry. “Eat your breakfast and get some sleep,” she insisted. “You looked horrible.”

  A smile crept along Tristan’s lips, and he insisted she eat with him. Silently, they finished their meal together. Knowing she would need him later, Tristan left
for a short time to rest in another room down the hall.

  Kate moved from her brother’s side and drew the drapes open to let in the sun. She glanced outside, her gaze following the duke’s carriage that had stopped in front of the townhouse. The footmen carried two of her trunks to the front door.

  Heaving a sigh, she turned back to look at Matthew and rang the bell for some fresh water. She wished Tristan could have stayed with her today. Would she be alone if Matthew died? The thought made her ill. But she couldn’t think of herself. Matthew needed her. He had given her so much, and now it was time for her to give back.

  For four long days Kate wiped Matthew down with wet cloths and stayed by his side. She was exhausted. The doctor had visited every day and wasn’t very hopeful.

  Kate was determined her brother would live. She felt his pain as if it were her own. Though Matthew opened his eyes now and then, she had no idea if he was conscious of his surroundings. The duke and duchess had come to visit, but Matthew hadn’t seemed aware of their presence at all.

  Tristan made sure she had everything she needed and had checked in on Matthew every morning, but otherwise he had avoided her. She had heard Edward mention something about the diamond.

  She told herself she didn’t need Tristan. She didn’t need anyone but Matthew. She shifted the cool cloth on Matthew’s feverish forehead and swallowed past the growing tightness in her throat. She was surprised he had made it this far. She had spooned warm broth down his throat and even bathed him with the help of a servant. His color had improved, but he seemed to hover between life and death as if it were a game.

  Sniffing back her tears, she sat up and pulled out a book of Shakespeare that Tristan had sent up from his library. In Massachusetts her family had read by the fire for evening entertainment. Many of the readings included excerpts from Shakespeare and the bible. One of Matthew’s favorites was The Taming of the Shrew. She smiled to herself, knowing he’d enjoyed the play at Drury Lane at her expense.

  As a child he had teased her and called her a shrew. She pretended that she didn’t like it, but she loved every minute of it.

  Swallowing her pain, she fingered through the book. Her eyes lit up when book had fallen open to a scene from the play.

  She read the words out loud. “Fie, fie. Unknit that threatening unkind brow, and dart not scornful glances from those eyes, to wound thy lord...to wound thy lord...”

  She couldn’t go on. She set the book down on the bed and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Matthew.”

  “Thy king, thy governor."

  Kate’s head jerked. “Matthew?” She threw her palms to his burning face and gazed into his sunken blue eyes. He still burned with fever, but he had spoken to her.

  “Hurts,” he whispered hoarsely. “Must see Tristan.”

  Kate reached for the laudanum. “Matthew, take this. It will help.” She lifted the medicine to his lips, but he shook his head.

  “Lancewood,” he mumbled.

  Upset by his words, Kate put the laudanum down and stared at her brother who had just exerted all his energy to call out for the earl. Why did he want him? Tristan couldn’t do anything that she couldn’t do! Her hands shook as she rang for the maid.

  “You called, Miss Wilcox?” the maid whispered.

  “Yes, please send his lordship up as soon as possible. Tell him my brother has asked for him.”

  A few minutes later Tristan appeared. “He called for me?”

  Kate nodded.

  “Does he still burn with fever?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice cool and clipped.

  “Tristan,” her brother called. Then he glanced at his sister. “Only him.”

  Tristan gestured for Kate to leave.

  Kate pressed her lips together in anger. The two people she loved most were throwing her out of the room. With a scowl, she picked up her skirt and swept into the adjoining chambers, leaving the door slightly ajar.

  A second later Tristan was striding toward her, his face grim.

  Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

  With a swift yank, he pulled the door closed. With a groan, Kate fell onto the bed, throwing her face into her feather pillow.

  His curiosity piqued, Tristan forced a smile as he sat beside the ailing man and replaced a fresh cloth upon his head. “You are awake. That’s good. Now, what’s this all about?”

  Matthew narrowed his eyes in concern. Sweat beaded about his lips as he strained to talk. “Made a promise...”

  Fifteen minutes later Tristan knocked on the adjoining door, his heart heavy when he detected the pain in Kate’s eyes. “I gave him some laudanum. He’ll sleep like a baby.”

  She lifted her chin. “Why did he need you?”

  Guilt pricked Tristan’s conscience. “That’s between us. Right now I must attend to some urgent business. Ring for the servants if you need anything. I’ll return in a few hours.”

  He paused and glanced back at Matthew. The man’s words ran over and over in his mind. I promised my father she would be married. She loves you. Please, marry her. Promise me.

  “He loves you, Kate,” Tristan whispered.

  Kate leaned against the doorframe, her face taut with worry. “I know, and I love him. He’s always been strong for me. It’s hard to see him like this. He has so much to live for.”

  Tristan’s fingers curled into his palms. He assured himself he was doing the proper thing. Yet he could not tell Kate of his promise to Matthew…at least until the vicar arrived tomorrow.

  For Matthew’s sake, Tristan hoped she’d hide her intense rage and marry him. He couldn’t admit his feelings to her now. If he did, she might believe he was marrying her out of pity.

  His expression grew hard. Confound it. When he left here, he would obtain a special license to marry. And in twenty-four hours, he would most likely gain a bride and lose a brother-in-law.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the Lancewood bedchamber as Kate, clad in her dressing gown with her blond hair hanging free to her waist, took in her brother’s pale appearance. Her brows puckered with worry when she touched his forehead. Though his color seemed improved, his fever had not yet broken.

  “Kate.” Matthew’s voice was a ragged gasp.

  She fought back her frown. “Are you in pain?”

  “Wear white gown,” he whispered. “Please.”

  “Now? In the morning?” she asked, squeezing her brother’s hand. He wanted her to wear her gown, the fancy one with the French lace? The one he bought for her last year?

  The fever must have taken a toll on him, and now he was delirious. Yet it was rather odd that her gown had been sent to Tristan’s townhouse late last night.

  Was the duchess wanting her to go to a ball? But she must know that Kate would refuse to leave her brother.

  Still, Aunt Georgiana didn’t like it above half that Kate was residing in a bachelor’s home. Kate pointed out that it was acceptable as long as Tristan’s mother lived in the same house. Though Kate wasn’t about to say that she had seen hide nor hair of the lady since Matthew’s confinement.

  Glancing back at Matthew, Kate managed a half-hearted smile. If he wanted her to wear the gown, she would do as he wished. Perhaps wearing it would bring back good memories of home and he would recover faster.

  Trying to settle his nerves, Tristan paced restlessly about the drawing room as he waited for the vicar to arrive.

  Dressed in his black evening attire and snowy white cravat, Tristan had been up for hours, wondering how he should tell Kate about her brother’s plans. They had barely seen each other the past few days. She ate in the bedchambers beside her brother, he, downstairs.

  In fact, Kate had scarcely left the adjoining rooms since Matthew had been shot. Tristan supposed it also had something to do with his mother, who was now keeping to her chambers as well. What a devil of a mess.

  The wedding would be performed in Matthew’s bedchambers so the man could be in att
endance. It was an unusual request for a marriage ceremony, but under the circumstances, the vicar had agreed. Matthew’s promise to his father would then be fulfilled.

  The drawing room doors opened and Tristan glanced up.

  “Going somewhere?” Edward asked, his eyes dancing with amusement as he surveyed Tristan’s neat attire.

  “To a wedding.”

  “Ah, a wedding?” Edward’s boots brushed across the rug. “Someone I know?”

  Tristan fell into the wing chair beside the hearth, his hands steepled at the bridge of his nose. “I believe so.”

  Edward stuffed his hands in the pockets of his waistcoat and grinned. “Not, Devin. He would have told me.”

  Tristan looked at his brother who had flung himself on the sofa, looking quite confused. “No, not Devin.”

  “A hint then?”

  Tristan rose from his seat. His wedding day was supposed to be one of joy and celebration. Though he wanted Kate as a wife, he was not eager to force her. “I have a special license and you are to be one of the witnesses. Now, can you comprehend?”

  Edward shot from his seat, glaring at Tristan as if he had two heads. “You cannot be serious. Matthew’s on his deathbed. By Jove! It’s not proper!”

  “Proper?” Tristan said with a wry chuckle. “Matthew is the very reason we are going to be married today. The man insisted he wanted his sister to be my wife. He made a promise to his father to have her wed before he died.”

  “I see. And how does she feel about this?”

  “She doesn’t know.”

  “So you haven’t told her.” Edward rubbed his fingers across his temples. “Jupiter. She’ll have your head on a platter if you do this to her.”

  Tristan straightened his jacket, feeling the villain every passing second. “I don’t have much choice. Her brother’s going to die. The man made a promise to his father. And I made a promise to Matthew. You know as well as I do that Kate has no wish for pity. She’s too independent. I don’t know if she’d marry me after her brother’s death. And, well, hell, I want her."