Diamonds and Dreams (59 page)

“You’re wrong. Goldie—”

“Last night,” she whimpered, choking on a
sob before she could continue. “It was Jillian’s perfume I smelled
on you. You were with her. You—”

“I was with her because I—”

“And when I asked you what we would do about
Uncle Asa—You had no answer. You didn’t answer because you knew my
problems would never be yours. And when you sighed... Right before
I left your room last night, I—I hinted at marriage. You sighed.
Deeply. You sighed with revulsion, didn’t you? You—The duke. Marry
me...I’m only a commoner. I’m not fit to breathe the same air as
you.”

Saber’s heart lurched. “No! Goldie, that’s
not—”

“I trusted you,” she whispered, her body
quaking. “So much so that I gave you the only thing of value I’ve
ever had. And when I did, I became your whore. But—But—
I didn’t
know!”

Saber had never seen such profound sorrow on
anyone’s face. Her agony poured from her huge, golden eyes, and
shook her slight form. That she believed such terrible things about
him made him want to die. Every muscle he possessed coiled with the
readiness to go to her and enfold her in his arms. But he
hesitated. She would fight him. She’d be a wild thing in his
embrace. He knew she would. Dammit, he had to make her understand!
“Goldie, listen to me. Let me tell you the reasons for—”

“I trusted you,” she told him again, edging
toward the door. “You—You made me believe you loved me. I loved you
back. All my dreams...you made them seem so true. You offered me
every diamond dream I ever had. And then... When I touched
them—When I allowed myself to believe they were really mine—They
weren’t real,” she sobbed. “They weren’t real, Sabe—
Your
Grace!”

When she flew out of the room, Saber
followed her. But his chase was delayed as she turned and knocked
over every piece of furniture she passed. The corridor was littered
with fallen tables, chairs, paintings, small shelves, and
knickknacks. Saber stumbled several times in his haste to catch
her.

By the time he’d reached the staircase, she
was already scurrying through the foyer downstairs. “Goldie!” he
screamed, bounding down the steps. “Wait!”

She was gone as he leapt off the last step.
Realizing she would go for Dammit, whom she kept secured in a small
shed in the back, he raced toward the kitchen, where the back door
was located.

But as he sped down the narrow hall that led
there, Margaret came bounding toward him. She stopped in front of a
small closet, yapping and digging at the door. Saber slowed, and
heard moaning coming from within. Two distinct voices groaned for
help. He knew immediately they belonged to Bennett and Fern.

Snatching the closet door open, he saw them
lying on the floor amidst a pile of damask tablecloths and linen
napkins. They were both bleeding from head wounds. “Dear God!” he
shouted, bending down to them. “Bennett! Fern! What—”

“We were taking tea in the kitchen,” Bennett
explained, “We didn’t see him until it was too late.”

“He hit us, sir,” Fern added weakly.

Saber helped them both to their feet. A
battle of desires waged inside him. He longed desperately to go
after Goldie, but he couldn’t leave the two servants until he was
certain their injuries weren’t severe. Biting back his raging
frustration, he led them back through the hall and into the drawing
room, assisting them onto the soft sofa.

With shaking fingers, he examined their
wounds, relieved when he saw they were not deep. He knew then
Bennett and Fern would be fine. “Stay here,” he ordered them both.
“Goldie—I’ve got to find her. She—I’ll be back. Stay here!”

His race to the kitchen was so fast, he
could barely remember the trip there. When he reached the room, he
saw the door was wide open. Fear for Goldie still pumping through
him, he bolted toward it. The unmistakable click of a gun hammer
being pulled back stopped him short. The gun suddenly materialized
from the threshold. Held in a stark-white hand, it was pointed
directly at his chest.

The man who brandished it stepped out of the
night fog and into the kitchen. Saber stared at him. There was
something hauntingly familiar about the man.

“Good evening, Tremayne.”

Saber stood riveted, watching the large ruby
twinkle at the man’s throat. “Hutchins.” The name left the taste of
poison in his mouth.

“I’m impressed,” Dane said, his lips
twisting into a smile. “You remember me after all these years.
Where is Diggory Ferris, might I ask?”

“Dead.” Hatred for Dane ravaged through
Saber but his fear for Goldie was stronger. Dammit, she was getting
away! She was going to ride through London at night, alone! “Get
out of my way, Hutchins.”

Dane smoothed his free hand across the side
of his head. “The mist out there is utterly nasty,” he commented,
leveling the gun again. “Why, it’s not even a
clean
mist!
It’s filled with London grime. I fear it has ruined my clothes. I
detest the city. I prefer my country estate.” He lifted his pistol
a bit higher, aiming it at Saber’s forehead.

“You’ll not escape, Hutchins,” Saber warned.
“I’ve a slew of detectives trailing you, and every one of them
knows the extent of your crimes. You may kill me if that’s what
your twisted mind tells you to do, but you will still lose all you
believe to be yours. And that includes your very life. You’re going
to hang.”

Dane smiled again. “I killed her, you
know.”

Saber’s knees almost buckled. He reached for
the kitchen table for support. “Goldie.”

“Goldie? No, not her. I will though. Yes, I
certainly will. But I am speaking of Angelica. Sweet Angelica... It
was nighttime. I found her in bed, exactly where I wanted her to
be. I explained to her that by visiting her I was doing her an
honor. I was going to allow her to share her charms with me, you
see. But she refused. She raced out of the room, but I caught her
at the top of the staircase. She fought me, calling out your name.
I forgave her her ignorance, but I realized then that she would
never understand the privilege I offered her.

“I consider her murder as a mercy killing of
sorts,” he continued calmly. “I took pity on her, you see. Given my
extreme compassion for her, I could not allow her to marry you. She
would have been miserable. And a woman as beautiful as she... Death
was infinitely better than a life with you. Wherever she is, I know
she’s thanking me for delivering her from such a fate. And now,
this is all I have left of her.” He reached up, caressing the ruby
nestled within the folds of his milk-white neckcloth.

Saber never knew such wild dread existed! If
Dane escaped tonight, the man would, indeed, go after Goldie. He
would succeed where Diggory Ferris had failed. “I won’t let you do
this, Hutchins,” he gritted between clenched teeth. “Do you hear
me, you murderous bastard? I won’t let you take anyone else away
from me!”

“Allow me to commend you on your courage,
Tremayne,” Dane taunted. “There you stand quite defenseless, and
here I am, pointing a gun at your head.”

Saber did not respond, but only continued
watching the barrel of Dane’s pistol, waiting for the opportunity
to overcome the deranged man.

“You always had everything, didn’t you,
Tremayne?” Dane continued.” I hated you from the first time I saw
you. As a baby, you were swaddled in silk and lace, as a little
boy, dressed in the finest clothes your father’s money could buy.
The pony you rode cost more than everything I owned put together.
My small house was sparsely furnished, and day after day I saw you
taking fine and expensive things into that cursed tree house the
villagers built for you. Silver candlesticks! They were worth more
than several months of my wages! And yet you had them in your
tree house!
It wasn’t fair, Tremayne. It was wrong. I knew
that. Knew in my soul that the estate and everything on it was
supposed to be mine.

“Heaven as my witness, if you hadn’t left
Ravenhurst when you did, I would have killed you. Twenty years have
passed since that day, but as I look into your eyes, I know my
loathing for you hasn’t faded. If anything, it’s increased, and I
realize now that only your death will bring me the peace I deserve.
You have to die, Tremayne. And once you’re dead, I’ll find that
little bitch who dared to try and spoil my dreams. She’ll go to
Hallensham. I know she will. She’ll go to collect her uncle and
dwarf friend. Oh, how I will relish punishing her for trying to
ruin my life.”

The thought of Goldie in Dane’s hands filled
Saber with fury. Before he even realized what he was doing, he
hurled himself at Dane, taking his opponent off-guard. He heard the
gun drop to the floor before he smashed his fist into Dane’s jaw
and heard the crack of breaking bone. He then lunged for the
pistol.

So did Dane. They fell upon it at the same
time, each of them getting a firm hold on it. Rolling on the floor,
they struggled for sole possession of it.

The explosion of gunfire ended the fight.
Saber became motionless, feeling no burn, no pain. He pulled away
from Dane, his eyes drawn to the crimson stain blossoming on the
front of the man’s snow-white shirt.

“Lord Tremayne!” Tyler Escott raced into the
room, followed by several of his detectives. He stopped short when
he saw Dane’s body. “What—”

“Tyler!” Saber jerked to his feet, grabbing
the detective by his shoulders. “Did you see her anywhere? Did you
see Goldie?”

Tyler frowned. “She’s not here?”

“Dammit!” Saber dragged his fingers through
his hair. “Tyler, I’ve got to find her!” He flew toward the
door.

“Lord Tremayne, wait!” Tyler shouted.
“Listen to me. We got Doyle. He—”

Tyler’s sentence died unfinished in his
throat. He watched as his distraught client disappeared into the
thick mist outside.

* * *

The cold fog defied Saber’s efforts to find
Goldie. Mounted on Yardley, he rode down street after street, but
the heavy haze prevented him from seeing more than a few feet ahead
of him. He might very well have come within yards of her, never
noticing her, he raged.

As he searched on through London, he tried
to convince himself that wherever she was, she was all right. His
heart refused to believe otherwise.

But his mind, his intellect, reminded him
repeatedly that she was wandering around in a city that fairly
oozed with perils. Even if she managed to find her way out of
London, the countryside was rife with danger. Assuming she’d found
him, Itchie Bon would be her sole source of protection.

She would head for Hallensham, he knew. But
even on a superb mount, the journey was a three-day ride away.
Dammit would need twice that to make it, provided the old horse was
able. Moreover, Goldie had no idea how to get there.

He realized his only recourse was to go to
Ravenhurst and wait for her, for he knew he’d never be able to find
her this way. But dear God, there was no telling where she’d end up
or what would happen to her before she arrived.

Dear God.
The words echoed through
his mind, heart, soul.
Dream Giver.
Saber stopped Yardley
and peered up at the heavens. He could see nothing of them, the fog
spitefully veiling his view. “Are You there?” he demanded loudly,
his throat aching from so many hours of screaming Goldie’s name.
“Don’t let it happen again! Don’t take her from me! And Goldie—She
thinks You believe her to be unworthy! Haven’t You let enough
heartache happen to us already? Let me give her her dreams! Do You
hear me? Are You listening? Dammit, are You there?”

His eyes and soul strained to detect some
sort of answer. When none came, he knew he was completely
alone.

“Goldie,” he murmured, staring down at the
reins in his trembling hands. He remembered every single thing
about her. Her fresh scent, sweet, bubbly voice, and the profound
allure of her beauty.

But mostly he recalled her character. Her
simple way of looking at things. Her determination to deal with her
own pain so as not to burden others with what she thought she could
handle herself. Her outrageous ideas and the deep faith she had in
them.

Her dreams. All her innocent and beautiful
diamond dreams. He’d made none of them come true for her. Instead
he’d hurt her. She’d wept, and now she was alone, cold, and without
a shred of protection. His agony was so sharp, he felt as though a
sword were slashing into his heart.

“Poppet,” he whispered, pain clutching his
throat. “My poppet called Goldie.” His eyes stung. A tear rolled
down his cheek. Another joined it. And another. He watched them
splash onto his hands, the reins, and Yardley’s mane. A loud moan
escaped him as he leaned over his horse’s neck, memory after memory
sweeping achingly through him.

His head bowed, he rode on, never seeing the
momentary parting of the fog. Through the patch of clear sky it
revealed, one lone and brilliant star smiled down upon him.

With only Dammit, Itchie Bon, and sorrow for
company, Goldie looked down the long, winding dirt road stretched
out before her. Surrounded on both sides by vast, windswept fields,
she could see no end to it.

“Do you think that man was lyin’ to us,
Itchie Bon?” she asked the panting mongrel. “He said Ravenhurst was
right over the hill, but where the hell’s the hill? Lord, we’ve
been wanderin’ around lost for so many days that I’m beginnin’ to
think we’ll never find Hallensham.”

She felt tears coming, but stubbornly held
them back. Upon leaving London, she’d sworn never to shed another
tear over her misfortune again, and she’d succeeded. She would not
break her oath now.

Her shoulders sagging, she closed her eyes,
reliving the past ten days. Ten twenty-four-hour nightmares were
what they’d been. Her small bag of belongings had been stolen from
her before she’d even found her way out of London. She’d thought to
fight to get it back, but when she’d seen the gaunt and filthy face
of the child-thief, she’d lost the heart to do battle with him.