Heart of the Diamond
Page 40
Filled with elation, Nicki stood, dropped the blanket across Teddy, and reached across to retrieve his greatcoat from the opposite seat. She draped it across her arm and stepped over Teddy's body to the door. The decorative brass handle felt cold against her palm as Nicki pushed down. The door swung outward. Somehow, she had almost expected it to be locked.
She lifted her skirts and jumped from the coach, then turned around and grasped the door to slam it shut. Her gaze paused on Teddy's prone figure. A sadness crept upon her, taking her by surprise. Not so long ago she had worshiped this person. She had trusted that he would rescue her from a situation she thought would ruin her life. It turned out her savior was the very person she had wanted to run from.
Nicki pushed the door. It shut with a resounding bang. Blake. I am coming, Blake.
Shaking out the folds of the fashionable greatcoat, Nicki swung it over her shoulders. It hung to her ankles. She clutched the garment against her and bolted into the woods, determined to put a good deal of distance between her and Teddy. Soon Larson would return with the horses. She intended to be well out of their reach by then.
Nicki's delicate slippers, meant for dancing on dry ballroom floors, were torn to shreds by stones and fallen twigs before she managed to find the edge of the woods. She paused beside a tree to lift her foot and examine the damage.
The sole of the slipper dropped to the ground. “Bloody hell!” How could she make it to the inn with no shoes?
A sound drifted to her ears on the brisk breeze that lifted her spirits and caused her eyes to tear. Laughter. Masculine and feminine. Nicki put her bare foot down tentatively, shivering as the damp, cold leaves pressed between her toes. She crept to the edge of the clearing and peeked out from behind the cover of a tree.
A meadow, with early spring wildflowers splashed across the tender green grass, sloped gracefully down to a clear stream. The fragrance reminded Nicki of childhood summers spent chasing Teddy through sun-warmed fields. Swiftly, she set that thought aside. That had been the past, an illusion. Best forgotten now.
Next to the stream, a group of young people sat upon a bright blanket. A picnic. Her stomach gave a rumble of protest as she watched one lady nibble at some delicacy. She could almost taste the sweetness of the icing and the texture of the cake melting in the fortunate lady's mouth.
Nicki swallowed. She glanced away. There, just on the other side of that hill, she thought she could see the back of a carriage. Nibbling at her lower lip, she looked from the picnic party to the carriage. The antics of her stomach urged her toward the stream.
But she had no time to stand about offering explanations to people who would most likely be shocked senseless, and therefore rendered helpless. Better to go on to the inn. Food and drink awaited her there.
Nicki tiptoed along the forest edge until she stood directly in line with the carriage. Then she rushed to the back of the vehicle. From that vantage point she could see two horses just over the knoll, their heads down as they grazed on the new grass. Pressing her hands together, she maintained a firm hold on her excitement. Thank you, Lord. She could make much better time on a horse. Besides, she had never driven a carriage.
As Nicki advanced toward the pair of horses, she continued to glance in the direction of the picnickers, finally reassured that the grassy hill rose enough that she would not be visible.
When she came to the horses, she paused. One horse had been equipped with a side saddle, the other a standard. Her rebellious side shied from the appropriate choice but then she thought of the length of the journey ahead. She had been raised on a side saddle, and she did have on a dress. She made her choice. The woman who rode this horse must be a skilled rider as the horse stood at least as sixteen hands tall with long, powerful legs.
Nicki limped over to untie the reins from the branch of a fallen log, then urged the horse closer to the makeshift stool. When she lifted her foot to step onto the log, the last shreds of her slipper dropped with a soggy thump. The other slipper followed the first as she used the back of the horse to steady her stance on the fallen tree. The bark bit into the tender skin of her feet, but they were so cold she felt little discomfort. She placed one foot in the stirrup and climbed onto the horse.
Nicki thought the least she should do was leave a note, but where would she find paper and pen here? She searched halfheartedly through the pockets of Teddy's greatcoat, and came across a slip of paper in one of the inner compartments. She scanned the writing on the small rectangle of paper and smiled. Teddy's calling card. How appropriate.
She urged the horse next to the other and tucked the card into one of the pieces of leather decorating the saddle. Satisfied, she adjusted her skirts to cover as much as possible, then covered up with the long greatcoat.
Feeling quite pleased with herself, she pressed her heels to the horse's side and they sped down the route she thought must lead to the main road. Angelica would be so proud of her ladylike behavior. A smile broke free. She could not wait to see those she loved. And she would be home in time for her wedding—to Blake.
Chapter 27
. . .
His hand trembling, Blake reached around Jonathon and dragged the blanket aside. He tensed. Teddy? Where the hell was Nicole? Jonathon climbed inside to touch his fingers to Teddy's neck. He sat down swiftly, as if his legs would no longer hold him.
“Alive?” Blake's question rasped through the silence.
Jonathon nodded. He rubbed his face with his hands. “What could have happened to her?”
Anger flashed through him, white hot and deadly. Blake reached inside the coach and grasped Teddy's collar, dragging his limp body outside. Jonathon followed hurriedly.
“Bartholomew, where is Nicole? What did you do with her?”
Teddy hung like a rag doll in Blake's hands, his head lolling to one side. His eyes slitted open. “Wh-where's my gun?”
Furious, Blake shook him roughly, then slammed him back against the side of the coach. “What do you mean, your gun? What were you doing with a gun?”
“Nick—” Teddy's head dropped back. In the same movement, his mouth gaped open. He stared into the sky for a moment, then his eyelids drifted shut. Blake shook him again. “For Nick—got to get . . .”
“Stop, son.” Jonathon grabbed Blake's arm. “He looks like Simms did this morning. I think he's been drugged.”
Blake stared into Teddy's face, noting the flush in his cheeks, his eyes glazed and unseeing. “Bartholomew, listen to me. Nicole is gone. Where is she?”
“A pretty b-bird. For a h-hat. I went for . . . m-m’gun.”
“I do not give a bloody damn about a bird. What happened to Nicole?”
Bartholomew glanced toward the woods. His chin dropped to his chest. “I don't feel so . . . good.”
“Blake, if Nick had some of the drug left over, she might've found a way to slip some to Ted.”
The sound of approaching horses drew Blake's attention. He glanced impatiently at the road to his left. An orange carriage with black spokes drawn by two horses approached. It slowed as it drew near, and Blake recognized the dandy from the inn earlier that day. His gaze traveled to the horse that followed and he was surprised to see the lady in the red riding habit seated on the horse behind the gentleman.
“I say, are you having some trouble here?” asked the driver.
After dragging Teddy's inert body to the coach, Blake dropped him inside, then strode toward the orange carriage. “Good day to you. It seems the weather played havoc with your picnic.”
The driver glanced at Jonathon nervously. “What is happening here?”
Jonathon moved to stand next to Blake. “My daughter was kidnapped by this man, but she might have escaped. Have you seen her by chance?”
“We were picnicking on the other side of this wood and Honoria's horse was stolen. The thief left this.” The driver held out a slip of paper.
Stepping closer to the carriage, Blake took the card. Theodore Bartholomew, Esq., Shropshir
e. Teddy's calling card. Bravo, my dear. “This card belongs to the man unconscious in the coach. My fiancée must have left this for you to find.”
The last vestiges of suspicion left the driver's face. He grinned. “Your intended? No wonder you were roughing the fellow up. Surprised you didn't land him a facer.”
Blake's hand tightened on the card until he had crumpled it completely. “The lady and I were to be married today . . .”
“She certainly has an eye for horseflesh.” The girl in the red habit urged her companion to draw their mount up beside the carriage containing their friends. “My Lancelot is the fastest in the county. I would say she does not wish to miss her wedding.”
“No more than I,” Blake said softly.
Honoria glanced at the occupants of the brightly painted carriage, her face glowing with suppressed excitement. “This is just like a novel.” Her look paused on Jonathon. “You are her father?”
Jonathon nodded.
“Only better!” She clasped her hands, obviously thrilled. “Then the two of you must be off at once. We will see to matters here.”
Blake looked at Jonathon, then back to Honoria. “Your offer is extremely generous, but too much of an imposition.”
The girl laughed, her dark eyes sparkled. “This is the most excitement we've seen this year. Surely you will not deny us?”
The carriage driver piped in. “Tell us what to do, sir.”
Their offer was too tempting to resist. If he and Jonathon left right away, they might still make it back home before the wedding. They might even come across Nicole on the road. “The coach horses are at the inn back down the road. Gerard, the innkeeper, knows something of what has happened. If you could get the coach back there and instruct Gerard to keep Bartholomew locked up, we will send word what we wish done with him. Your Lancelot will be returned to you safe and sound, miss.”
Honoria reached inside a small bag tied to her wrist and removed a card. “So you know who I am and where to return my horse.”
Blake took the card and tucked it inside his glove. “I have no card, but I am Blake Dylan, the Earl of Diamond. This gentleman is the Duke of Billington. We return to Langley Hall in Shropshire.”
Honoria's eyes widened slightly. “As I said, just like a novel.”
“Your assistance is greatly appreciated.” He turned to Jonathon, who had returned to the coach to look in on Teddy. “We had best be off.”
Stepping away, Jonathon turned to take the reins of his mount. “He'll sleep for a good long while. When my daughter drugs a person, she doesn't do it by halves.”
“Nicole does nothing by halves. I wonder how she has managed to survive thus far.” Blake mounted his horse, wincing at the sharp pain in his shoulder. He suspected he had dislocated it when he grabbed the coachman earlier. Pushing the discomfort to the back of his mind, he turned the horse toward the road.
“Please let us know how all this turns out,” Honoria said.
Blake nodded. “Since you are playing a major role in seeing to my being married, I will do just that.”
Glancing at the girl seated in the carriage, Honoria thought for an instant, then said. “All you need do is . . .”
The other girl sat forward. “In your note, a complete heart shall mean the wedding took place, only half a heart shall mean it did not.”
“Splendid, Cleo. Is that agreeable with you, my lord?”
Blake pressed his heels into the horse's side. “Easy enough. Good day to you all.” The horse surged forward, gaining speed as they left the cover of the trees.
Exhilaration filled Blake. He could hear the thud of hooves behind him, then Jonathon brought his mount abreast of him. They looked at each other for a brief moment. A message passed between them, silent and tenuous, but the lingering emotions were solid as stone. Blake almost felt as though he had a father at his side. The feeling was a good one.
. . .
Her wedding dress. Staring at her reflection in awe, Nicki traced the square neckline of fragile lace, the bodice sewn with delicate seed pearls. Angelica worked at the back of the gown to fasten the band that separated the bodice from the long straight skirt of white tulle with a satin underskirt. Fringe of strung seed pearls and braided strands of silk string hung from the band just beneath her breasts. The sleeves puffed at the shoulder, then cut in sharply several inches above the elbow to fit snugly and end in a vee over her hand. Lucy had pulled her hair into a single braid interlaced with pearls. She wore a tiara of silk flowers. The heavy braid skillfully hid the bump at the base of her skull and added a medieval charm to her appearance. Her gaze rose to meet Angelica's in the mirror. “I feel like I have entered a dream.”
Angelica smiled, her emerald eyes bright with unshed tears. “A wonderful dream, because you are home safe and sound.”
Nicki turned to face Angelica, her mother. She must get used to thinking of her in the proper manner. “But Papa and Blake have not returned. What if something happened to them?”
“The other search parties have returned. Blake and Papa should be arriving at any moment.”
A pain squeezed Nicki's heart. She reached around to gather the long train of the gown and loop it over her wrist. “What if he decides I am too much trouble? He might keep riding.”
Angelica fussed with a loose tendril of Nicki's hair, attempting to intertwine it in the braid. With a sigh, she dropped the curl and pulled a matching strand from the opposite side. “If he were frightened off so easily, he would have left the morning after you climbed in his bedchamber window. I believe he means to have you, Nicole, every troublesome inch of you.”
The rattle of the doorknob startled Nicki. Mina's face peeked around the white door and brought a quick smile. “Excuse me, I was looking for my sister, Nicki. Someone said she was here.”
“Come in, Mina. Is Cecilia with you?” Angelica's voice held the familiar calm that Nicki now found comforting, as though the world would be right as long as that control remained in place.
Mina advanced into the room resplendent in a gown similar to Nicki's in buttercup yellow. Behind her came a more confident Cecilia in forest green. The seamstress had added ribbon to the gown to match Mina's.
Emotion tightened Nicki's throat. She rushed forward into her sister's arms. “You were right about Teddy,” she whispered hoarsely against Mina's upswept curls.
Firmly, Mina grabbed Nicki's upper arms and held her away. “Not even I would have thought him capable of such barbarity. And I am not so skilled a judge of character myself. Charles leaves for London and then Paris immediately after your wedding today.”
Nicki gasped in dismay. “No, Mina! I am so sorry!”
With a quick toss of her head, Mina seemed to banish the subject. “No matter. It isn't as if we were in love. And you're here with us now, safe. The hardest part is behind us. I only hope you used something obnoxiously heavy to knock him unconscious.”
Nicki laughed through her tears. “I had nothing to hit him with, but I did kick him once. It was the laudanum I slipped in his snifter that laid him low.”
“You're so brave! I think I should have fainted dead away!” Cecilia's eyes widened dramatically.
“Not brave at all—merely determined,” Nicki said, feeling a chill wash over her skin as she recalled the fear she had experienced while in the coach with Teddy.
Angelica moved to Nicki's side with a whisper of gold taffeta. “Look at my girls. So lovely. Mina and Cecilia should harvest at least two dozen marriage proposals each.” She reached out with a lace handkerchief and carefully wiped away Nicki's tears. “And there shall be hearts breaking all over the church when you walk down the aisle.”
Nicki met Angelica's tear-filled green eyes—green like her own can be at times. “Thank you . . . Mother.”
A soft gasp passed Angelica's lips before she bit it back. She carefully tucked the handkerchief in her sleeve. “I love you, my Nicole. I always have.”
“I know. I am so very lucky.”
Angelica turned to the door, where Nicki saw Lucy. The maid beamed. Nicki was certain she had never seen Lucy's face lit up so. “What is it, dear?” The control had returned to Angelica's voice.
“I've a message from Simms. His Lordship, the Earl of Diamond is below stairs.” Lucy paused dramatically. “He's asking as to Lady Nicole—Nicki's—welfare.”
He had come! Nicki cut off a squeal of joy. “Blake is here? And Papa?”
Lucy nodded. Her chestnut curls bobbed wildly.
Securing the train of her gown over her arm, Nicki headed for the door. Angelica's voice brought her up short.
“Lucy, inform the earl that Lady Nicole is quite recovered from her ordeal and will look forward to seeing him at the wedding ceremony—within the hour.”
As the maid dashed off to deliver the message, Nicki stared at Angelica, aghast. “I must see him!”
“And you will—at the church like a proper bride.” Angelica came forward to take Nicki's hand. “Think, dear. He has spent a good part of the day chasing you across the countryside—only to have you rescue yourself. He needs time to bathe and dress for the wedding.”
“Besides,” Mina interjected, “It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding gown before the ceremony takes place.”
Nicki fought the disappointment. To have him so near and then send him away seemed such a waste. But she knew that within the hour she would be standing next to Blake before the minister exchanging vows.
Within the hour.
. . .
Blake rested one hip against the edge of the parish minister's immaculate desk. He looked from Charles, leaning a broad shoulder casually against the window frame, to Carlton and Percy seated before him. All were dressed in suits of somber browns and blacks with starched white cravats. They had abandoned their fashionable brilliant hues. For him. His friends. They had traversed with him through the hardest times in his life. It was only fitting that they stand at his side at the happiest time.