Authors: Jillian Hart
“Something wrong, Miss Hollingsford?”
Ruby paused at the top of the stairs. Mr. Quimby had just exited Whit's chamber, soiled coat draped over one arm. Very likely he was heading for the kitchen to clean it, but Ruby narrowed her eyes.
“And where were you this morning?” she demanded.
He raised his brows. “I had an argument with a recalcitrant cravat, and then I attempted to beat Lord Danning's black boots into submission. Is there an article of clothing you desire pummeled, Miss Hollingsworth? I must say I'm in the mood for it.”
He did not look the least bit militant, smiling at her, his eyes crinkled at the corners. She could not find it in herself to suspect him.
“No clothing, alas,” she replied. “But I wonder whether some person hereabouts requires pummeling. Do you know anyone who might wish his lordship ill?”
She thought he would protest as Whit had, assure her she was mistaken. Instead, Mr. Quimby moved to her side, put a hand on her elbow and lowered his voice.
“What have you seen?” he asked, gaze searching hers. “Who do you suspect?”
Ruby's voice came out quietly, as well. “Then you think something's wrong, too?”
He nodded. “I have only one bit of proof to offer and a great deal of conjecture. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Danning diamonds?”
The way he watched her said he expected that she had. Ruby nodded her head.
He released her. “Have you seen the stickpin his lordship favors? It's part of a setâa necklace, tiara, earbobs, stickpin and bracelet. They're worth a small fortune.”
Ruby shook her head again. “I don't understand. What has this to do with an attempt on Lord Danning's life?”
Quimby paled. “Someone tried to kill him? When? How?”
“This morning.” Ruby explained about the shot at the river. When she finished, his jaw was tight and his gaze had lost its usual twinkle.
“And he wouldn't listen, would he? I feared as much. That's one of the reasons I included you and your father in this house party. You see, I suspect the diamonds have been exchanged for paste.”
Ruby clutched the newel post with both hands, her reticule banging against the wood. “You included me so I or my father might attest to the value of the Danning diamonds?”
Quimby made a face. “Not entirely. I did see you at your father's shop when I took him the stickpin to verify its makeup, and I thought you would be good for Lord Danning. But I wanted your help in this matter. I observed Mr. Calder taking the diamonds from the safe where they are normally stored and later replacing themâwith paste copies, I feared. Lord Danning would never accept my word over his cousin's. I could only hope you or your father might be willing to speak up.”
Once before she'd been invited to an event for the sole purpose of valuing jewelry. Then she'd felt humiliated, betrayed. Now all she could think of was how the truth would affect Whit.
Mr. Quimby could not know it, but he'd piled another weight on the scales against Charles Calder. If Charles had indeed stolen one of his cousin's most precious possessions, he might well wish to keep Whit from discovering his crime.
The valet clearly thought Ruby could convince Whit of the truth. But would Whit listen to her, especially when she'd promised to trust him and leave the matter in his hands?
Chapter Sixteen
W
hit put away his fishing gear, pausing as he came to the broken rod. Jointed rods had a lamentable habit of breaking, even with the brass screws that were sometimes used to keep the sections together. Surely Ruby must be wrong to see a more violent reason for the break.
Given her treatment by her peers, he thought he understood why she'd rush to judgment. But to see a murderer in the quiet of Dovecote Dale? Unthinkable. He could remember no reason for anyone to wish him ill.
Still, the need to reassure her was strong, so when he finished, he went in search of her. Unfortunately, he ran across Lady Wesworth, chest at full sail, in the corridor as he passed the withdrawing room.
“My lord,” she said, face set and gaze challenging, “something must be done about Miss Hollingsford.”
He quite agreed, but he could only wonder what had set off the marchioness this time. “I'm sure there must be some misunderstanding.”
“Oh, undoubtedly.” She nodded, setting her silvery curls to trembling. “Entirely on her part. Do you know she ordered my Amelia about as if she were a servant?”
Her chest was puffed so high Whit was surprised she didn't bark her chin when she spoke.
“If you are referring to Ruby's request at the river,” he said, trying for a congenial tone, “I was there when she spoke to your daughter. She requested Lady Amelia's assistance, which your daughter granted with her usual grace and kindness.”
She seemed to settle below him, and he wondered whether she had been standing on her toes, as well. “Amelia is ever kind. Perhaps too kind. She does not always notice when others are taking advantage of her.” She narrowed her eyes at him as if she suspected he was among the number seeking to impose upon her daughter. “That lot falls to me, as her mother, and I assure you I know a conniving creature when I see one.”
Whit was highly tempted to ask if that was because she saw one so often in her mirror, but he refrained. He knew the pressures of the Jacoby familyâtheir many estates, their various financial interests, their influence in Parliament, and all with no son to inherit. In her mother's eyes, the entire future must rest on Lady Amelia.
“And I assure you that Ruby is no conniving creature,” he said instead.
Lady Wesworth fisted her hands alongside her muslin gown. “She has pulled the wool over your eyes! Why, she dissuaded Amelia from accepting your suit, encouraged that Stokely-Trent girl to look at your cousin. And now, based on what little I could understand from my distraught daughter, Miss Hollingsford seems to be implying that something dastardly is afoot.”
That was how rumors spread. He had to put a stop to it. “As I said,” Whit replied determinedly, “all a misunderstanding.”
She refused to believe him. “I misunderstand nothing, my lord. This tale of danger is merely a pretense to end this house party early and prevent you from fixing your interests elsewhere. Why can't you see that?”
“Because it is a fiction.” When she raised her brows at his pronouncement, Whit took her hand in his own. “Miss Hollingsford is mistaken about the danger, but that does not change the fact that she is concerned for my well-being. Indeed, of all my guests, she has distinguished herself by attempting to make things easier for me. Why, madam, can you not see
that?
”
“Well, I never!” She yanked back her hand and raised herself up again. “I trust when you have had the opportunity to reflect, you will beg my pardon, sirrah.” She turned and swept back down the corridor.
“When pigs fly,” Whit muttered. The impertinent phrase reminded him of Ruby, and he couldn't help grinning as he started up the stairs.
His grin vanished when he saw her waiting outside the open door of his bedchamber.
Her face was pinched, and one arm was wrapped about her middle. The way the reticule hung heavily against her skirts told him she had yet to divest herself of her pistol. Before he could ask what was wrong, she raised her free hand and thrust his stickpin at him.
“Paste,” she declared.
Whit accepted it with a frown. “I don't understand.”
“It's paste. Fakery. False. Just, I fear, like your cousin's loyalty.” She trembled as if she could not abide her own accusation.
Neither could he. “What's this all about?”
Quimby appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat. “Allow me to explain, my lord. I had a particular purpose in inviting Miss Hollingsford to this house party.”
“Because you thought I would like her,” Whit remembered. “And you were quite right.”
If anything, his statement seemed to distress Ruby further. She clutched the cords of her bag so tightly he thought they might snap like his rod.
“Oh, Whit,” she said, voice tight. “You like everyone.”
She made it sound like some sort of failing. Whit spread his hands. “I thought it a virtue to live at peace with others, so far as that is possible.”
Her face scrunched further. “And could you perhaps have taken that to extremes?” She waved at Quimby. “Your valet set up this house party to force you to choose a bride. Such an infraction would seem to require drastic action.”
Even Quimby raised his brows at the idea.
“What did you have in mind?” Whit said, still trying for a lighter tone. “The stocks? Perhaps a flogging?”
Quimby cocked his head as if he'd like to see Whit try, but at least the jest brought some color to Ruby's cheeks. “I cannot help but wonder why you didn't consider sacking him.”
Whit shot Quimby a grin. “Oh, I considered it. But Mr. Quimby and I go back many years. I would miss his otherwise sound council.”
“Not to mention my ability to tie a cravat,” his valet said with a critical eye to Whit's throat.
“See how well he knows me?” Whit returned his gaze to Ruby. “Which is why he understood exactly what sort of woman I need in a wife.”
She steadfastly refused to take his bait, raising her chin with a touch of defiance. “But that trust you have in himâand in all your other acquaintancesâis why he knew you wouldn't believe him if he brought you a concern, particularly about your cousin Charles.”
Whit felt his smile fading and glanced at his valet again. Quimby shifted on his feet as if uncomfortable, fingers brushing at the coat that draped his arm.
“Do you have something you wish to say to me, Quimby?” Whit asked.
“Only what Miss Hollingsford has already related, my lord,” he replied, avoiding Whit's gaze. “The diamond in your stickpin is paste.”
“Of course it is,” Whit replied and had the satisfaction of seeing them both blink owlishly at him. “Do you think I'd be so foolish as to bring a diamond fishing with me? I had a paste copy made some time ago. The real diamond pin is in the safe in Suffolk.”
“But, my lord...” Quimby started.
Ruby interrupted him. “Why bring a paste copy with you? Who did you think to impress, the trout?”
Whit chuckled. “There's a thought. Perhaps I should consider trying it for bait. That might encourage the King of Trout to take a bite.”
When she merely frowned at him, clearly perplexed, he shrugged. “The Earl of Danning has worn the diamond stickpin for five generations, Ruby. It is part of my heritage.”
“You mean wearing it is expected,” she said, arm stealing about her waist again. “I have recently become aware of how many expectations are put upon you, my lord. It seems your life is laid out from the moment you are bornâhow you will act, what you will wear, even the woman you will marry.”
Was that her fear? That she somehow didn't conform to the expectations he had for a bride?
She didn't. She shattered them.
Understanding came in an instant. All this time, he'd been waiting for the right woman to stir his senses, warm his heart. He had assumed his love would blossom in an instant, the moment he saw the woman who was right for him. Instead, the feelings had crept up on him, building from admiration, shared trials. This tenderness, this concern, this was what his father missed when his wife had been taken from him. Surely this was the beginnings of love.
“Perhaps I am a creature of habit,” he admitted, moving closer to Ruby. “But I have only ever had one expectation for my bride, Ruby, and that is that we can truly say we love each other. You asked me about my feelings the other day, and I regret that I responded with a quip. The truth is that I am falling in love with you, Ruby Hollingsworth.”
She gazed at him, mouth pursed in an
O
of wonder. It was the most natural thing in the world to give action to his feelings. He took her in his arms, angled his head and kissed her.
All the fire that was Ruby kissed him back. This was what he'd yearned for; this was what he'd dreamed might exist. This closeness, this hope for the future.
Thank You, Lord!
From some distant place, he heard a cough. Quimby. Whit raised his head, but he refused to let Ruby out of the circle of his arms. She stood there, smiling at him as if he'd given her the sun and the moon, and he wished he knew a way to do just that. Anything she wanted, so long as she stayed with him, forever.
His valet coughed again.
“What is it, Quimby?” Whit forced himself to say, gaze on Ruby's.
“I regret to interrupt such a momentous moment,” his valet said. “But you see, there is still the matter of your cousin.”
Whit sighed, even as Ruby sobered and nodded.
“Charles is no threat to me,” Whit told them both. “You must take my word for it.”
“Happily, my lord,” Quimby said, “if you can assure me that you also had paste copies made of the rest of the Danning diamonds, and recently.”
“Yes, Whit,” Ruby added, peering at him from his embrace as if to judge how he might take the news. “Mr. Quimby and I would be greatly relieved to see your cousin in the clear.”
At least she was willing to give his cousin the benefit of the doubt. Whit glanced between them. “There was no need to create copies of the other pieces.” He grinned at Ruby. “I can hardly wear the tiara fishing.”
She did not laugh at his joke. “Then you authorized him to remove them from safekeeping for another reason.”
“No,” Whit admitted. “Nor do I know that he has done so.”
“He has,” Quimby said, and the depth in his tone told Whit how little he liked reporting the fact. “I saw him. He later replaced them.”
Whit nodded, smiling down at Ruby and not bothering to hide his relief. “There you have it. Very likely he was developing a description of them to send to his sister. She wishes to wear them soon.” Doubt pricked at him, and he looked to his valet. “Or was that request also a ruse, Quimby?”
“No indeed,” Quimby promised him. “Miss Calder would very much like to appear in the diamonds. And as she talks about them each time she visits, I doubt she needed further description. She made her request in innocence, I am convinced. She would have no way of knowing her brother had already stolen them.”
“Enough,” Whit snapped. “Charles has been as close to me as a brother. Why would he steal the diamonds?”
“Money?” Ruby suggested quietly, as if hoping to soften the blow.
Stokely-Trent's tale of gambling debts came to mind, but surely that was untrue. While his cousin would play whist at the drop of a hat, Whit had never known him to wager against the results.
“If he needs money,” Whit insisted, “he knows he can apply to me.”
“Perhaps pride prevented it,” Quimby hazarded.
“Perhaps he wanted more than you could give,” Ruby added, green gaze probing his. “Perhaps he wanted it all.”
Whit shook his head. “Why must you see the darkness in every deed?”
She stiffened. “Why do you see only light?”
He had to make her understand. “Because I know Charles is a gentleman. He would never forsake his honor to steal from me, to shoot at me. You talked of expectations? Every gentleman knows that honor and duty are expected of him.”
“Honor?” Ruby pushed away from him, eyes blazing. “You trust your life to a gentleman's honor? Let me tell you about the honor of gentlemen, my lord. You know those stones Lady Wesworth wore the first night? Paste. It seems her husband coveted a new hunter, and he didn't have another way to lay his hands on the finances except to pawn his wife's diamonds.”
The bitterness on her face cut into him. Whit reached for her, and she stepped back.
“Then there's Lord Pellford, fine upstanding fellow. Supported the repudiation of the slave trade, I read in
The Times.
That's because he'd already sold all the gems he beat the natives into mining to a less scrupulous jeweler than my father.”
Her pain was his. “Ruby, those are isolated instances. I assure you, not every gentleman distains his honor.”
“No?” Tears were falling now, trickling down her pale cheeks like rain on a carriage window. “I'll give you one more example. Phillip, Lord Milton, quite dashing, with aspirations of a Cabinet post. Perhaps you've heard of him?”
Whit nodded, remembering the man from Parliament. Milton took the wind like a navigator on the sea, then always voted for the winning side.
“He courted me.” There was no pride in the words. “Such a charming gentleman, such a catch! But he didn't want my heart.” She thumped her chest, her reticule bumping against her. “He just wanted a mistress. Couldn't sully his bloodline with marriage to the daughter of a shopkeeper.”
Whit wanted to rip out the fellow's heart and throw it at Ruby's feet. “He's a fool.”
She raised her chin, tears dripping off it. “Yes, he is. But so, I've come to learn, are most of the aristocracy. I know you want to champion your cousin, Whit. You can't believe he'd be so dastardly. I can. I've seen it. In fact, I am hard-pressed to offer you a good example of an aristocrat who lives with the honor you ascribe.”