Dangerous in Diamonds (25 page)

Authors: Madeline Hunter

Tags: #Historical romance, #Fiction

BOOK: Dangerous in Diamonds

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Three pairs of eyes settled on Castleford. He gazed back placidly. Silence ticked by.

“Of course,” Sir Marcus said. “That canal needed building. Managing the extraction of minerals from the ground, while serious business, would not necessarily require that size consideration. Fifteen percent might be considered fair.”

Castleford just looked at them.

“I would do it for ten,” Cato said.

His father turned to him in surprise, but Cato forged on. “It would be a step down, of course. I would only do so to break the ennui, which I suffer from as much as Your Grace.”

Drumblewhite could hardly contain his rage that the young pup had tried to cut him out. “More experience is required than you have, Mr. Valmare.”

Sir Marcus reddened at his friend’s condescending tone. “We could do as well as you, sir, I am sure.”

Castleford gathered his legs and stood. “I have no need of anyone’s services, because I have found no minerals.”

Sir Marcus smiled knowingly. He glanced around the chamber, then winked. “Then forgive us our presumptions and assumptions. However, should you decide to exploit these unfound minerals and require either partners or investors in a syndicate, I trust that you will remember our old friendship.”

Castleford nodded his head in what might be seen as assent. Sir Marcus seemed to have forgotten that their old friendship involved the man’s female cousin, a summer night seven years ago, and passion amid the trees of Hyde Park. Or was it St. James Park? Other than the blustering threats Sir Marcus had flung the next morning, the two had not spoken much before or after that until today.

He made good his escape and aimed toward the writing table. Along the way three more men waylaid him. Each one privately apologized for having overheard Sir Marcus and confided that he had a brother or cousin who could do far better than Drumblewhite or Cato. And, oh, if a syndicate were formed, he hoped His Grace would please keep the speaker in mind.

To each one he explained that any talk of new discoveries of minerals on any of his land was an unfounded rumor and nothing more.

Finally breaking free to complete his task, Castleford sat at the writing table. He took one of his calling cards from his case. On the back of it he wrote, “I am cold sober, so I expect to be received this time.”

He was blotting the card when a shadow fell over the table. He turned to find Latham trying to peer over his shoulder.

He slipped the card in his pocket. “You learned some bad habits in France, Latham. Your social behavior has become inexcusably rude.”

“I merely waited for you to complete your note before seeking some conversation with you.”

Castleford turned in the chair. “I can’t imagine why you would bother, since we have nothing to talk about.”

Latham put on his false face, the jovial one that inspired so much confidence among the easily duped sheep. He moved another chair closer and sat in it.

“We parted last time on a discordant note, Castleford. It will not do.”

Castleford thought it would do just fine.

“We need to talk about my father’s will and the oddity of those bequests to you,” Latham said.

“Should you not speak with a solicitor if you have questions? I never even read the will.”

“Do not pretend that you do not know the concern I have.”

“I never pretend. I would truly be befuddled if I were not too bored to be befuddled.”

Latham eyed him skeptically. “I think he made a mistake in giving those holdings to you. He was not well toward the end, I am told, and often confused.”

“So you think he mistook me for you? Wrote
Tristan, the Duke of Castleford
when he really meant to write
my heir
? By Zeus, that
is
confused.”

Latham ignored the sarcasm. “I obviously would like to keep the estate intact.”

“Would that your father had wanted to as well. I might be spared this conversation.”

Latham leaned forward and whispered in a sharp staccato of anger, “See here. I want to buy it back. The land. I will pay the going rate for good farmland, so you are not out anything except tiny estates too troublesome to matter.”

Castleford stood. “How generous of you. But I think not.”

He walked out of the club. Latham was on his heels the whole way.

“You did find something. I knew it. Damnation, he never intended for you to get richer off those bequests. If he had only known—”

“Ah,
if he had only known
. Those are among the saddest words in our language, don’t you think?” Castleford pulled on his gloves and gestured for the groom to bring his horse. “Calm yourself, Latham. Your face is turning that shade of red that speaks of a man tempting the limits of his health.”

Latham stuck that red face close to Castleford’s own. “I’ll see that you reap no profit from what is in that ground. I’ll contest those bequests and tie them all up in the courts so long that you will be dead before it is over.”

Castleford swung up on his mount. He looked down. “There is nothing in that land to provoke your avarice.”

“Those others in there offered you more, didn’t they?”

“I treated their strange certainty of discovered riches the same way that I have treated yours.” He pointed his horse west, to where paradise waited. “Really, this nonsense is all too tedious.”

Chapter Sixteen

P
ark Lane appeared unusually busy for a street flanked by a park on its west and noble houses on its east. Castleford rode his horse past three of those great homes before realizing all the activity was in front of the one he sought.

Wagons lined the walk, and servants buzzed about. He handed his horse’s reins to one, went to the open door, and peered in.

A footman hurried over. Not young, green Perthy, but a hearty fellow of more exacting demeanor. Castleford handed over his card, and asked to speak with Mrs. Joyes.

The fellow’s eyebrows did not even register vague surprise. Impeccably proper and deferential in every way, he escorted Castleford up to the drawing room.

It did not take long for the servant’s steps to sound outside the chamber again. Just male footfalls approached, however. None others.

Castleford’s temper spiked. Damnation, the woman was going to refuse to receive him again. Well, if she wanted it that way, so be it. No more patience. No more gentility. He would just go up there again and lock that door and have her right there in that pale chamber. He would be damned before he allowed her to lead him in this dance one day longer. It was damned well past time to—

“Summerhays,” he said with surprise, the angry monologue dropping from his mind.

The door had opened while he fumed, but the footman had not returned. Instead, Sebastian Summerhays stood there. The same Sebastian Summerhays who was supposed to be on the coast with his wife.

“What a surprise to see you, Castleford. Has word spread so fast that we are back?” Summerhays greeted him warmly, with one of the charming smiles that turned women into fools.

“You know how it is in town in summer. Any bit of talk spreads fast, there is so little to discuss,” he replied. It sounded like something Albrighton would say, all dodgy and indirect. “Why have you returned? Did the prime minister call for you?”

Summerhays scowled at the reference. “They are asking no counsel from
me
, which only makes me fear whose counsel they are getting instead. Yours?”

“We should be so fortunate. If you are not returned for that, then why? It is an odd time to leave the coast, with your wife close to being brought to bed.”

“It appears that will happen here. She insisted on coming with me. It took four days, because I dared not let the horses do more than a moderate pace.” Summerhays sat and gestured for his guest to as well. “We came back because I expect my brother’s return from the Continent. I received the letter a week ago. His ship should arrive any day now, I expect.”

Summerhays’s brother, the Marquess of Wittonbury, had left England a little over a year before, for his health and for other reasons having to do with honor. An acknowledgment of the history of the marquess’s departure passed between him and Summerhays in the look they exchanged.

“So that explains why I am here,” Summerhays said. “And why Audrianna accompanied me. She has a special bond with him. Now all that remains is an explanation of why you are here.” As he said the last part, he reached into a pocket and removed the calling card just sent up with the footman. He made a display of reading the note on the back. “Sober, no less. I am impressed.”

Damnation.

Summerhays looked over with a merry twinkle in his eyes. Castleford acted bored and indifferent.

He doubted Summerhays believed the act. Of all their circle, Summerhays had the best cause to assume the worst. Prior to Summerhays assuming the mantle of respectability in order to stand in for his brother, the two of them had joined together in sprees of wonderfully disgraceful rakish hedonism.

A few memories of those glory days drifted through his mind, and Castleford sighed inwardly. He truly missed the old Sebastian sometimes.

“I have some business with Mrs. Joyes.”

Summerhays laughed. “Is that what you call it now?”

“I do not use that word euphemistically, Summerhays. There is really business between us, of a nature I am not at liberty to describe.”

Summerhays grinned. “I am sure there is.”

“Stop smirking like a lewd old man and send up for her, if you do not mind.”

Summerhays fingered the card. “I would, and I would even leave you alone with her to discuss this
business
in privacy, only the lady is not here. She left the house two days ago.”

Castleford made sure he did not react in any visible way, but a scathing anger flared in his head again. If she had left this house, she had left London. She knew that he would be coming for her after he procured those damned letters, and s
he had run away
.

The coward. The
bitch
.

This was not to be borne. To allow this would mean admitting she had played him for the worst fool in a long game, with nothing more than his humiliation as the goal.

Summerhays watched him. Castleford sprawled, crossed his arms, and pretended to swallow a yawn. “Left, did she? That is good to know. I will have to write to her at Cumberworth instead, and settle the matter by mail.”

“I do not think she is in Cumberworth. She took one of our carriages, and one of our coachmen, and neither has returned yet.”

Fury gave up some ground to a surge of profound curiosity. “That is odd.”

“Yes, isn’t it?”

“Do the servants know where she went?”

“They only report that she took a valise but not all of her things, and that she told the coachman that they would first go west, then north.”

North? She had once said that Captain Joyes’s regiment had been in the north when she married him. Only there had never been a Captain Joyes.

“I don’t suppose Lady Sebastian can guess where she went?”

Summerhays set the card down on the table near him. “She assumes that Mrs. Joyes went to The Rarest Blooms first, then perhaps to visit her husband’s family, whom she recalls perhaps living in the north. It had been some time since Mrs. Joyes was home. If she intended a journey of any length, she would want to make sure all was in order at The Rarest Blooms first. Other than that, Audrianna has no idea. This uncharacteristic behavior on the part of Mrs. Joyes has distressed her, however. I fear that she will worry.”

West first, then north. It was possible that Daphne had not left The Rarest Blooms yet. He could write to Edwards, he supposed, and find out, and also ask where she had gone after if she had already left.

He stood. “I will leave so you can settle your household back in here. Give my warmest regards to your wife, Summerhays, and to your brother, when he arrives.

D
ark had enshrouded the property when Castleford rode up the lane of The Rarest Blooms. Light glowed behind the windowpanes of the first floor, however.

He tied his horse and used the door knocker. It seemed as if the house’s stones held their breath at the sound he made. After a protracted pause, the door opened a crack. Spectacles peered out. Castleford peered back.

What in hell—

“Sir!”

“Open the damned door, Edwards.”

It flew wide. “Your Grace, this is so unexpected.”

“It certainly is. What do you have there? A pistol? Hell, point it elsewhere, you fool.”

Edwards remembered the gun in his hand and let his arm fall so it aimed at the floor.

“What are you doing here, sir?”