Once Upon A Diamond (A sweet Regency Historical Romance) Page 3

  She had never been fond of dark enclosed spaces ever since she had accidentally locked herself inside a trunk sitting in the shipyard when she was a child. Confined to her cabin most of her journey had been just as bad. Matthew had tried his best to comfort her on the voyage, but she could barely walk outside that gloomy cabin before she had to return. Even Mrs. Hollingsworth had been surprised by her illness.

  Drat her brother and his plans to send her to England. Soon, he would be on his way to the Mediterranean with his cargo. London wasn’t a major port town, but he had insisted on making the journey up the Thames instead of having her travel cross-country from Portsmouth.

  If she weren’t so ill, she would have refused to set foot in England altogether. But it probably would have done no good. He would not have listened. She should have never agreed to come here in the first place.

  What’s more, she thought angrily, he needed her now as much as she needed him. But Matthew wasn’t about to expose any chink in his manly armor, especially to her. He had proved that the day she’d heard her strong-willed, no-nonsense big brother cry, something she had never heard him do in his entire life. It humbled her.

  Oh, he was a wonderful sibling in many ways, but she wished he would confide a bit of his worries to her. They only had each other now, and he seemed to be hiding something. It was more than his fears about the cargo that bothered him.

  She glanced over her shoulder and took one last look at the Princess, one of the Wilcox ships bobbing gently on the Thames. A tiny frisson of fear tickled the back of her neck.

  What is it, Matthew? What secrets are you trying to conceal from me?

  She’d already hugged her brother good-bye, but she’d seen the sheen of worry in his eyes when he’d let her go. At the last minute, guilt had compelled Matthew to buy her a scarlet parrot from one of the vendors near the docks. She couldn’t say no. Tears had tightened her throat, but she had forced another smile.

  He had always been kind and considerate, perhaps even a bit forceful at times, but she loved him. She didn’t need him worrying about her. And good grief, she didn’t need him choosing a husband for her now. For all she knew, he might find her some man he knew in England. Though she felt weak, she had to show him some semblance of strength.

  The clatter of carriages and the hum of men working on the docks snapped her to the present. The mixture of loud voices and hazy shapes seemed like a dream.

  Biting back tears, she held the yellow-draped cage holding her parrot, and plodded toward the hired carriage, struggling to peek past London’s thick fog. She turned her mind to her two feathered friends, the parrot and Mrs. Hollingsworth.

  The latter was garbed in a flaming orange cloak, along with a coordinating orange ostrich plume sticking out of her head. Kate raised a bewildered brow as the lady munched on a scone, but Mrs. Hollingsworth continued to be sideswiped by her hideous orange plume that refused to stand to attention. Afraid she would laugh out loud and embarrass the poor woman, Kate kept her eyes to the ground as she walked toward the hired carriage.

  Perhaps the ride to Ridgewater would be entertaining after all.

  A pitiful whimper sounded behind Kate. She spun about, surprised to see a small shadow hovering near the lamppost. It was a mutt. Her heart twisted. It was quite ugly, but adorable in a queer sort of way. She bent down, dropped her cage and stretched out her hand. “Come here, pup. Come now. I shan’t hurt you, boy.”

  The dog let out a hungry whine and inched forward. Kate pulled out a piece of bread, feeding the poor creature a few crumbs. It looked lost, alone, and very hungry. If someone just–

  “Katherine!” Mrs. Hollingsworth’s screech cut through the fog. “My dear, I implore you. Do not set yourself too close to that thing! Mercy, only look at the beast. It has only half an ear and barely a tail at all. I daresay the animal’s been in every filth hole in London. Now come along before you are bitten, or worse, catch some fatal disease!”

  Kate bit her tongue. Mrs. Hollingsworth meant well, but sometimes the lady could be a bother that Kate could well do without, and that was why she had made her own plans. Plans Matthew knew nothing about.

  A swirling mist enveloped the orange lady as she stepped into the carriage. Kate turned her attention back to the mutt beside her. The pitiful creature didn’t smell as bad as it looked. A little food and rest, and the dog would be in tiptop shape.

  With a gloved hand, she stroked the dog’s back as it finished the bread. “There you go, Handsome. Feeling better, boy?”

  “Animals of any kind are not allowed inside, Miss,” the driver announced, his pointy nose lifted high into the air.

  Frowning, Kate fell to her knees and pulled the dog close to her breast. She wished she could take the mutt along with her and keep the animal safe. The poor thing looked like it needed a friend right now and so did she.

  “Forgive me, Handsome. But I can’t take you with me. If you were smart, you’d hop on the back of my carriage for a lift. Keep well now.” She patted the dog away, then hid the parrot behind her skirts and mounted the carriage. Flashing a weak smile toward her companion, she plopped onto the seat opposite her and set the birdcage onto the floor.

  The vehicle rolled along, its squeaky wheels barely making a dent in Mrs. Hollingsworth’s ceaseless chatter. The barking of a lonely dog waned in the distance, lost in the fog just like her thoughts.

  “Oh, Katherine.” Mrs. Hollingsworth clasped her chubby hands together in excitement. “You are simply going to love England, my dear. Particularly the Season in the ton. It’s divine. Simply divine.”

  Kate gave the woman a weak smile as the dreaded orange plume wilted across the lady’s face. The ton? How could she have forgotten about the cream of English Society? Her aunt was a duchess. That meant a multitude of parties and balls. How would her body ever heal?

  Mrs. Hollingsworth leaned closer, bringing her nose within an inch of Kate’s. “My dear, I see you’re still feeling under the weather. If I do say so myself, your color is something resembling dead seaweed, and your beautiful blond hair has lost its luster completely.”

  Kate knew all too well that she wasn’t the same woman who left home. But dead seaweed? “My health is quite on the mend. Nothing to worry about, I assure you.”

  With two matching orange gloves, the older lady touched Kate’s hand in a worrisome pat. “I’ve been thinking it over. Your plan, that is.”

  The woman sniffed and pushed the plume out of her face. “I simply do not have a good feeling about leaving you to ride to Ridgewater alone. The duke’s grounds are hours from London. Your brother wanted me to make certain you arrived safely.” She eyed Kate’s body with a tut-tut frown. “And you did take quite a beating along the way, ma petite.”

  Though Mrs. Hollingsworth was a dear, even with all her eccentricities, Kate couldn’t last another hour with this lady. “Rest assured, ma’am, I shall make it to my destination without complication. We already agreed. Matthew has nothing to do with this. Remember, we are self-reliant women and do not need a man to tell us what to do.” Especially brothers!

  Mrs. Hollingsworth giggled. “So right, my dear. We women must stick together. I shall let you go on by yourself as long as you promise me you will go there straight away.”

  Kate’s eyes perked up in amusement. “Are you by chance suggesting I would go somewhere besides my aunt’s?”

  “Of course not, dear. But you must beware of the highwaymen who travel these roads.”

  The lady shivered and peered out the window as if there were someone on horseback ready to shout, Stand and deliver. “Thieves, cutthroats, Katherine, every last one of them. I’ll have you know that it was almost a year ago today that a gentleman highwayman robbed my cousin on this very route. Silver buttons and all.”

  Kate had heard about highwaymen in England. But it was rare for them to attack a hired coach, was it not? She held the elder lady’s hand in a friendly embrace and smiled. “No need to worry about me. We will drop you off
in London, and I can be on my way.”

  “Oh, very well. It seems you have everything under control.”

  Mrs. Hollingsworth leaned back against her seat and let out a puff of air, trying to persuade her plume to stay out of her face. “But remember, Katherine, I will invite you to one of my cousin’s balls during your stay and find a host of gallant gentlemen to dance with you. My cousin, the one who was robbed, why she’s the Countess of Brackshire, you know.”

  Kate turned her head toward the window. “I won’t forget.” Gallant gentleman indeed. Matthew must have spoken to Mrs. Hollingsworth about his list of suitors as well.

  If Matthew had already shuffled her to London and closeted her in a carriage with Mrs. Hollingsworth for an entire day, heaven knows what breed of man he would find for her. But she would find a husband before he did. None of those poppycock Boston marriages of convenience for her. No, she would not be lonely, and she would not be sorry.

  No, indeed. She would marry for love.

  An hour later Mrs. Hollingsworth was on her merry way. All Kate needed now was a little peace. She stretched her legs across the seat, searching for a comfortable position.

  Her gown hung loosely on her body, making her all too aware of the weight she had lost on the voyage. Sighing, she bunched her cloak into a ball, stuffing it beneath her head for a makeshift pillow. Every hour brought her closer to her destination. She realized that facing her past was inevitable. She drew in a tired sigh and closed her eyes.

  As soon as she packed her fears away, the clattering wheels lulled her into a deep, needed sleep. She had no idea that her dream of a ship tossing her to and fro in an angry sea matched her swaying carriage, fighting a savage storm of its own.

  When the ship came to a grinding halt, she shot from her seat, banging her head against the side of the carriage. She rubbed her head with her hand, then pulled the curtain back from the window, peering out into the stormy night.

  Clouds darkened the sky as if it were midnight. Rain hammered against the carriage while thunder roared through the walls. It was impossible for travel. In the back of her mind, a little voice whispered that maybe she should not have left Mrs. Hollingsworth back in London.

  A shudder of fear swept through her. Perhaps Matthew had known what he was doing all along. Her ears lifted to the frightened nicker of horses. Beside her the parrot began to flap wildly. Where was her driver? And what had made them stop so suddenly?

  Taking her cloak, she wrapped it around her body, pulling the hood tight. She reached for the carriage door, opened it, and squinted past the sheets of rain slapping her face.

  She managed to make out the shadowed outline of another carriage stopped alongside them. Her heart skipped a beat. What if it held a caravan of cutthroats? What if Mrs. Hollingsworth was correct about the highwaymen? What if her driver had been hurt or killed?

  She took a hesitant step forward, caught her cloak on the door, and fell into the mud with a splat. Her hands slid against the muck as she tried to pull herself up, only to slip again with the mud pushing up her sleeves. Anger soon replaced any fear as she tried to stand. Drat England and its weather. Drat Matthew and his plans. Drat everything! Drat–

  The hair on the back of her neck prickled with unease when a male voice pierced the air.

  Before she could turn to see who it was, a steel arm wrapped around her waist, hoisting her to her feet. She barely caught her breath when her gaze locked on a large figure dressed in a flapping black cloak. The man held a small lantern that cast an eerie mask about his features.

  She didn’t have to know what he looked like to know who he was. The way those silver buttons winked against the light instantly told her the truth.

  Heaven help her! He was Mrs. Hollingsworth’s highwayman!

  Chapter Three

  Horror filled Kate as she struggled against the man’s grasp. With a groan, she gave him a swift kick to the shin, causing him to release her.

  “Whoa there,” he shouted, his baritone voice ringing in her ears.

  “I am not a horse,” she snapped as the water pummeled her face. She had no intention of being his next victim. But where was her driver? Had this man killed him?

  “A horse, no. A mule maybe.”

  The storm seemed to drown out most of his chuckle, but she’d heard his words clearly enough. She had no time to react when he grabbed her elbow and ushered her forward. Her stomach coiled in fear at the strength she felt emanating from the man.

  “Your carriage...blocked by a fallen tree and so is mine.” His words carried over the thunder, swooshing against the wind that had suddenly picked up. “We can...rest of the way...storm won’t let up...won’t be going anywhere for a time.”

  He continued to shout beneath the roaring thunder, dragging Kate along with him as if she were a drowned cat. She dug her heels into the muddy road and stood motionless.

  The rain continued to spit against her body. Slowly she was beginning to understand. “What did you say?”

  “I said there’s an inn up the road... not far from my home.” His finger directed the way just as the wind began to die down. “We can stay there for the night. Your driver can bring the trunks along after us.”

  Again, he tugged her toward his desired destination. Kate’s eyes closed into two narrow slits of anger. Had she heard correctly? We? She could have sworn the heavens exploded with laughter just as the situation finally hit her.

  To her dismay, the man’s face was still shadowed from the storm. The lantern was beginning to dim, fading into the surrounding darkness. “We?” She jerked her arm away and gave him a condescending stare.

  Oh no, he was not a thief. He was an abominable rake. She had met men like him in Boston. A few sharp words and a cool glare from her usually did the trick. But in this rain it would be hard to create that scenario. However, her driver was probably somewhere near, inspecting the carriage, so she wasn’t entirely alone.

  “How dare you think that I would go with you! My driver is somewhere near and he will–” Will what? She had no idea.

  She didn’t finish her little speech. She spun on her heels, returning to the safe confines of her carriage, her boots plodding through the mud while the man’s rumbling laughter rang in her ears.

  She saw her driver inspecting the road and bit the inside of her cheek, fisting her clammy hands against her cloak. She absolutely hated England. This entire trip was a nightmare, and when she saw Matthew again she was going to tell him that she was going to find him a bride and see what he said about that!

  Thirty minutes later, after returning from examining the blockage down the lane, Kate’s driver finally opened the door to the carriage and peeked inside. Kate was wet and freezing. She only hoped the man could perform a miracle and get them moving again. If not, she hoped the driver could at least find some shelter for them other than that inn!

  “It don’t look good, Miss. Roads are flooding and the tree is too big to move on me own. Best you stay at the inn up there. Not another one within walking distance. Looks warm, but you stay beneath that hood of yours when you ask for a room. Some of those men ain’t looking too pleasant for the likes of me. Don’t think there’s a private room for dining, but if you’re hungry, you could probably ask for a tray to be sent to your chambers.”

  Kate was amazed the driver had uttered more than ten words to her. He hadn’t seemed at all that pleased with his position in the first place.

  “Thank you. You must be feeling poorly being out in the rain like that.” She reached into her pockets and pulled out some coins. “I would appreciate it if you brought my trunks inside after me and then obtained a good meal for yourself.”

  The man shook his head and pushed the money back into her gloved hands. “Your brother already paid me, Miss, and I’m sorry to say, one of them wheels don’t look so good. I should have stopped a while back. But you see, me wife and I had a bit of a spat this morning, and I came to be thinking about her instead of me driving.”

>   Kate pressed the coins into his large hand, realizing the reason for his snooty behavior earlier. “Take them. Please.”

  “Thank you kindly, Miss. Now, if you want to be waiting until I can escort you there–”

  “No, no,” Kate said, clasping her hood and birdcage with each hand, “I can see to it myself.”

  The man pursed his lips just like Matthew would have done when Kate did something wrong. Kate felt the color rise in her cheeks. It was obvious she had left her chaperone back in London, and the man didn’t approve.

  She lifted her chin. “Truly, I am quite capable.”

  The man rubbed his red nose with a gloved hand and glanced at the yellow draped cage. “I’ll be along as quick as I can, Miss.”

  With birdcage in hand, Kate plodded down the muddy lane to the inn. She squinted at the sign above her, The Hunting Fox Inn, vaguely remembering the quaint little place from when she’d visited her aunt and uncle ten years ago.

  It was less than a half-day’s ride from Ridgewater Manor. Oh, why hadn’t the storm waited another few hours? But then again, if she hadn’t dropped Mrs. Hollingsworth off at her cousin’s townhouse, she probably would already have been situated at Ridgewater Manor for the night. Matthew would have an apoplexy if he could see her now.

  Kate took a last glance over her shoulder at the fallen tree that had decided to interrupt her plans. The rain slapped against her face, and her bottom lip trembled. Her predicament was partly of her own making. Her impulsive nature always seemed to steer her into trouble, her father would say.

  And at this point, she realized she would rather take her chances with Matthew and his list of insufferable suitors than go into that ghastly place where that man was staying. She had no wish to meet up with him again.

  Drawing in a courageous breath, she opened the door of the inn, stepping across the threshold. A strong gust of wind whipped across the tables.