Desire Wears Diamonds

by Renee Bernard

  Isabel shook her head and reached out with a comforting hand to pull Grace’s hands into hers. “No! I am the last woman in England to raise an eyebrow over the threat of scandal! My own downfall was gleeful fodder for so many but I have no regrets. Love conquers all.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true but I’m happy for you, Mrs. Thorne.”

  “Let me begin again.” Isabel released her hands and nervously pushed back a stray curl from her cheek. “The men have a friendship and a bond, but so do the wives of the Jaded.”

  “The Jaded?” Grace asked.

  “It’s a terrible name for their little club started in jest and not very apt. We’ve campaigned them to change it but I confess, it’s grown on us.”

  “Us,” Grace echoed doing her best to follow the tangled threads of the conversation.

  “The wives. I was the newest addition to the feminine inner circle, until you,” Isabel said. “And you should have received the same warm welcome that we all did and that is why I’m apologizing.”

  “Oh!” Grace exclaimed. “Please don’t.”

  Eyes the color of white opals shimmered with unshed tears. “I must. It was deliberate, the way we refused to call on you! Well, Caroline couldn’t of course, being confined but we closed ranks against you so quickly. I think of it now and I shudder!”

  “B-because you thought I’d been ruined?” Grace asked. “Isn’t that understandable?”

  “Because we were certain that you were conspiring with your brother and that you intended to hurt Michael,” Isabel said.

  Grace caught her breath. “I would never hurt Michael.”

  “After everything that Sterling Porter has done, we didn’t think it beneath him to use a woman as bait—even his own sister.” Isabel shifted in her chair, uncomfortable with the subject. “We thought the worst of you. We thought you were cruelly toying with Michael’s affections to strike against him and we feared that Michael’s honor was forfeit if he were the one playing some kind of game in which he would marry you for a tactical advantage.”

  “Did he?” Grace asked, an edge of desperation in her voice.

  “Absolutely not!” Isabel shook her head firmly. “No. Gayle had it directly from Rowan’s own lips that when he begged Michael to see reason, Michael refused. He refused because he said he loved you. When the Jaded told him that they would cut him off, when they accused him of being a traitor and turning against them, he stood fast—because he loved you! They are like brothers, Mrs. Rutherford. But he endured having every one of their doors closed to him for the love of a woman; for the younger sister of their sworn enemy.”

  “For me,” Grace echoed softly. “It makes no sense!” Grace took a slow deep breath and then another. “Mrs. Thorne,” she began slowly. “I am still not sure what Sterling…what he was, what he did. What I overheard this afternoon, it shook me to my core! My brother? A villain? A killer? It’s a bad dream.”

  “You poor thing!”

  Grace made a quick gesture as if to wave off any pity. “What I need now is for you to tell me everything you know about the diamond, the Jackal and the Jaded. Please.”

  Isabel smiled and in the quiet of Caroline Blackwell’s library, she began to lay out a tale worthy of Mr. A.R. Crimson, patiently pausing for questions and working with Grace to slowly lay out the pieces of the vast puzzle of the Jaded’s journey.

  Until at last, Mrs. Grace Rutherford understood the game.

  And where she would stand.

  Michael sat with the others in the music salon where they’d finally heard the good news from Rowan and nearly collapsed in relief. Ashe had yet to make an appearance but it was understood that he would not be leaving his wife’s side until his fears were completely assuaged. The rest was a blurred discussion of Darius’s progress with Bellewood University’s establishment and all the possibilities that life now offered them free of the Jackal. They toasted Ashe’s beautiful daughters and Rowan assured them that they were tiny mirrors of each other and as identical as buttons.

  “God, they’ll have the running of him!” Josiah said. “Two daughters! He doesn’t stand a chance!”

  Michael stood at the first pause in the conversation. “Gentlemen, I have to return to the library and see if it’s possible to…speak to my wife.”

  “Shall we go with you?” Galen offered. “To help plead your case?”

  “Very amusing,” Michael tried to smile. “No, this is something I will have to face alone.”

  Darius walked him to the salon door. “Give her time. It’s a jolt to lose a brother.”

  “And what kind of jolt is it to find out that your new husband was practically a bystander to your brother’s death?” Michael squared his shoulders before putting his hand on the doorknob. “She hates me, Darius.”

  “You are a very hard man to hate, Rutherford,” Darius said as solemnly as a priest. “Take heart.”

  Michael opened the door and left his friends to their conversations.

  He began to walk down the stairs and came to an awkward halt as Grace met him on her way up the same staircase. “Were you…coming up to…?”

  “There is poetic balance in speaking to you here, don’t you think?” she asked him calmly.

  “In Ashe’s home?”

  “On stairs,” she amended. “If I hadn’t lingered on that landing today, I wonder what I would have missed.”

  Michael grimaced. “Why don’t we go back down to the library and speak privately?”

  She shook her head. “No. There is a wicked part of me that is enjoying how very awkward and miserable you look up there.”

  “Damn it,” he muttered and deliberately walked to be three steps below her to level out their heights a touch and spare her neck from craning up at him. “You cannot be enjoying any part of this, Grace. I don’t believe you.”

  “Nothing sinister, Michael. That is what you said to me; that there was nothing sinister in the business you had with my brother.”

  He nodded. “I lied.”

  “Why?”

  “To protect you from the worst of it and as I’m being mortally honest from here forward, to make sure that you didn’t warn your brother that I was aware of his villainy. It was like waltzing with the woman of my dreams with a viper at my feet, Grace.”

  “I never liked him, Michael. But that is a very horrible thing to admit…” she whispered. “I dreamt of a life free from him but I never wished him dead.”

  “I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, his nerves getting the better of him. “I want to say I’m sorry but—I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry for stealing a taste of a happiness I’d long ago hardened my heart to ignore. But you, Grace, you are impossible to ignore.”

  “You, sir, are very talented when it comes to distracting me with sweet words and—“

  “I love you, Grace.” He bowed his head. “I wanted to say it one last time before you end this.”

  “Have you nothing else to say in your defense?”

  “Other than the fact that your brother would have traded your life for a diamond? That he threatened to murder you and frame me for it if I didn’t give him what he wanted? Or do you want me to try to go further back? As if his sins against all of us even after he abandoned us to die in a Bengal dungeon, his attempted murder and amoral disregard for the lives of innocents makes any difference to the ultimate truth that I was willing to do anything it took to keep you safe and to protect the people I love?”

  “Anything?”

  He nodded miserably. “I loved you enough to even see if there was a compromise to be made with a man who has actively tried to kill my friends and myself over the last few years. If there’d been even a glimmer of humanity in that man, I’d have laid down my own life before I’d have allowed him to lose his. I’d have found a path or forced an alliance because sparing his life might have meant that you wouldn’t hate me.”

  “Do I hate you?” she asked, her eyes widening.

  “You must,” he said quickly
but then a strange flicker of doubt came to life inside of him. “Don’t you?”

  She climbed one step and opened her arms, leaning forward to allow him to lift her into his arms. “I said I might but apparently, I cannot hate a man that I am in love with. It is a contrary but a terrible truth that I will live with for the rest of my life, Michael.”

  “You love me.”

  She nodded, tears shimmering like diamonds trailing down her cheeks. “I love you, Michael Rutherford.”

  He kissed her with a thorough sweetness that made everything inside of him break loose in a torrent of relief and joy. Her feet left the stairs and she clung to his neck as he held her fast, both of them desperate to relish their happiness and banish the last of fear.

  He couldn’t have saved Sterling, even if he’d wanted to. And he couldn’t have handed over the diamond without risking the lives of his friends and their families. He’d forfeited almost everything and braced himself for the worst—and learned a valuable new lesson in the strategies of the heart.

  Sometimes, a soldier has to accept defeat in order to achieve victory, and Grace was his reward.

  Epilogue

  “I still can’t fathom it.” Michael crossed his arms. “All of that misery and effort for what is ultimately a rock.”

  The diamond in question sat in the middle of the table between all of them, glittering with a brilliance that defied description.

  “It’s hardly a rock,” Galen corrected him carefully. “And if so many believe it has magical properties as that prophesy claimed…”

  “Bosh!” Rowan sputtered. “It’s no more magical than a tea cup.”

  “Don’t be so quick to judge,” Ashe said, the solemn timber of his voice silencing them all for a moment. “Don’t mock magic you yourself have benefitted from, Dr. West.”

  “I?” Rowan asked.

  “All of you,” Ashe said. “Ever since we walked out of that hell hole, the cards have generally fallen in our favor. Rowan came into that inheritance that allowed him to take over his father’s practice and fund his clinic. Galen’s investments paid off beyond his wildest dreams and he was able to restore his family’s estate even before he came to the title. The few gems we did sell went for more than we’d expected and then good fortune touched us all. Darius will have his academic career. And look at me. Against all odds, I have my Caroline and two absolutely perfect angels who I intend to spend every spare moment spoiling until there is no chance of any man ever measuring up to their dear handsome father.”

  “He’s a willing slave to them already,” Josiah sighed.

  Darius laughed. “It is a condition I’m eager to share in a few months.”

  “And what of you, Michael?” Ashe asked. “Aren’t you curious how this sacred treasure in your possession extended to all of us, but not to you?”

  Rutherford smiled. “And that’s where you’d be wrong. If it’s the source of our good fortunes, then I know exactly why my friends were included in its blessings.”

  “Do tell,” Galen set down his glass of lemonade.

  “Because we are all bound by brotherhood and I’d made a vow to leave none of you behind, to share whatever I had and to do everything in my power and possession to protect you if I could. I’d sworn an oath as we were leaving that dungeon. I think that chunk of rock was in my pocket when I said it out loud.”

  “My God! I remember that!” Darius exclaimed. “It was all chaos and noise but I remember you mumbling something about getting us out before you’d take a single breath of free air—and I thought you a little mad for it.”

  “So I think I blessed the Jaded without knowing it, and since we never broke the circle that connected us…”

  “The spell was never broken?” Rowan finished. “But what of your fortunes, Michael?”

  “I never cared for coin,” Michael confessed. “On the ship, my greatest fears were finding a place to feel safe and belong, to achieve some sense of normal or family; and of course, to make sure I was in a position to uphold my oath to my friends.”

  “The Grove,” Josiah said with a smile. “I brought you to the Grove!”

  “Mrs. Clay and the Grove provided a home I’d only dreamt of and gave me everything I needed to heal.” Michael’s smile broadened. “Apparently, the raj’s magic bauble recognizes the needs of a simple man.”

  “And now?” Josiah asked.

  “Even with Grace, it’s an extension of that first wish. She’s family and my future. She makes any room a sweeter sanctuary and since we’ve added a door to adjoin both of the apartments, it’s all the room we need. My Grace has no encumbrance of housework or duties, the largest desk I could find in all of London and…”

  “And you,” Galen finished the sentiment. “You are quite the unique and modern couple, Rutherford.”

  “So what now?” Darius pressed, shifting in his chair. “Don’t forget the prophecy. So long as the East India Trading Company doesn’t have it, then we are by default the foreign hands that hold it without ill intent that the ancient text referred to. If we keep it, we’re safe but we have to keep it hidden away for all time.”

  Rowan ran a hand through his hair. “As a man of science, I’m still having trouble taking this all in.”

  The diamond’s fire gleamed more brightly and each man did his best to convince himself it was a trick of the light.

  “We keep it then.” Michael stood from his chair and lifted his glass, and the others immediately followed suit. In an echo of mythical round tables and magical oaths in their country’s past, every member of the Jaded raised his glass as they closed ranks. And as they spoke; their eyes were on each other and not the glittering stone between them. “Gentlemen!”

  “To the continued haven and survival of the Weary and the Wicked!” Galen said.

  “The Wanton and the Wandering,” Ashe continued.

  “And the Unwanted,” Josiah whispered.

  Their glasses touched and in unison they finished it.

  “To the Jaded!”

  fin

  Poseidon’s Curse

  or

  The Fatal Storm

  

  A Penny Dreadful by

  A.R. CRIMSON

  Presented by S&Y Publishing

  London

  CHAPTER ONE

  An Ill Fated Voyage

  The list of British ships that fought bravely against Napoleon is well known and celebrated by the people of Britain (as they should be, Dear Reader). But one ship in Her Majesty’s Service is never spoken of; for its fate during the great Battle of the Nile of 1798 is unknown and her service has been largely stricken from the history books. At one time, she was officially listed as “lost in battle” but even that record has since vanished. Some say her captain must have turned traitor and run from the fray to disappear at such a critical moment; but no witness can say—for none have ever been found.

  So here, Dear Reader, on these pages, allow me to tell you the final tale of the HMS Fatal and to reveal its true and unbelievable destiny. Read on, if you dare, and judge if her captain and crew be traitors or ultimately, heroes.

  Captain Hiram Jack Martin, or Captain Hack Martin, as he known to his men is a striking figure, tall and sound with eyes as fierce as the seas. He is uncommonly tall and imposing. A fair leader who relies on his brave and moral example, the discipline of his officers and a generous spirit to earn the respect of his sailors and crew; it is war that binds them fast. The Mediterranean theater had encompassed a great naval campaign that summer between the English and French fleets and that now famous final battle in August loomed.

  The Fatal was to bring up the rear of the English line of ships and support the Justice. In tandem with the fleet and under the command of the revered Admiral Nelson, Captain Martin is confident of ultimate victory. The crew is anxious to see battle again if only to end the gnawing toll on their nerves as they wait.

  Little do they know, they have a different battle ahead and an enemy unknown to them.r />
  The sun sets in a ring of red and the sea turns to molten copper. It is a sign of foreboding for a superstitious traveler and portends blood to come. But Captain Martin laughs when his first mate, George Parsons, says as much. ‘You’re an old woman, George!’ he teases. But the laughter dies quickly when the men on the ship slowly come to the realization that they cannot see the Justice or the line and a fog the color of pale mold is heading toward them with an uncanny speed—though the wind blows in the opposite direction.

  Cries of alarm go up and within minutes, the ship is readied as if for battle. The wind changes, and changes again and something in his gut warns him that he spoke too soon and will owe his best friend an apology before the night is out. They were to sail toward Aboukir Bay with shallow shoals and challenging confines to take on the French directly but something tells him that they are now heading out to sea. He has navigated every form of weather known to man and with a sailor’s understanding of wind and waves it is hard to shake his confidence. But he is shaken now.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A Storm for the Ages

  For the space of several moments, too long to be dismissed as a figment of imagination, the wind stopped. It did not slow or lessen, it stopped. Grown men who had faced cannon fire and fought into the teeth of Napoleon Bonaparte’s navy grew pale and one old salt began to cry. He couldn’t be blamed for it and no one within hearing felt anything beyond a jealous wish that they weren’t too frozen to weep as well.

  Then the wind comes again with a hurricane force from above that presses the ship downward and lowers its keel so quickly that men stumble to clutch at the ropes and rails to prevent themselves from falling into the sea. Discipline takes over and they respond to the barked orders of the officers to save the ship. The wind lashes across the decks and the sails and the canvas begins to shred. Proud squares become strips of cloth that flutter like the mockery of a May Day celebration and the sky blackens but it doesn’t rain.