Diamonds of the Marquess: Season of Brides Read online

  Diamonds of the Marquess

  Season of Brides

  Joyce Alec

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Preview: A Duke’s Promise

  More Stories You’ll Love

  Love Light Faith

  Thank You!

  Diamonds of the Marquess

  Text Copyright © 2018 by Joyce Alec

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First printing, 2018

  Publisher

  Love Light Faith, LLC

  400 NW 7th Avenue, Unit 825

  Fort Lauderdale, FL 33311

  Prologue

  England, 1816

  “Papa?”

  Lady Emily Dove, daughter to the Marquess of Rawson, stopped dead just inside her father’s study. Her hands scrabbled for a hold, as she struggled to take in what she was seeing. She had only just returned from a short walk and had come to take tea with her father, as was their custom. However, her father was not ready to take tea. Instead, he was sitting back in his chair with one arm covered in blood, his breathing ragged and face pale with a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His entire study was ransacked. Papers were all over the place, glasses and ornaments lay smashed on the floor, and almost everything had been overturned.

  “Emily,” her father groaned, pushing himself back in his chair. “You must get to safety.”

  She shook her head, her face paling and her legs beginning to shake. As much as she wanted to go to him, as much as she wanted to help him, she could not so much as move. “You said this would never happen, Papa. You said—”

  “Please,” he gasped, one hand pressed against his chest. “You know what you must do. Cynthia will be waiting.”

  She did not want to leave him. She did not want to step away and leave her father alone. There was no way to tell what was happening to him, no way to tell if this would be the last time she would see him. Her fingers dug into the doorframe, forcing herself to remain upright.

  “Go, Lady Emily.”

  A strong hand grasped her arm, tugging her away. Spinning, she saw her father’s butler tugging her out of the room, his face white.

  “He was asleep in his chair, and I heard no guest come into the house,” Jefferson said hoarsely. “But I will deal with the master. You must go, my lady. Do you have them safe?”

  She could barely speak, giving a jerky nod.

  “Then go,” he said, grasping her arm and pulling her gently away. “You will be safe with Lady Millington.”

  Her breathing was ragged, her feet stumbling along the hallway. She had her father’s most precious possession, the thing that had brought him nothing but fear these last few months even though they had been his long before Emily had been born. It was already safely stored in her bedchamber, and now, even though they might have cost her father his life, she would not leave them behind. They would come with her, just as she had promised her dear papa. She had made that promise every night for the last few months, never really believing that anything would happen.

  Each of the threatening notes her father had received of late, she’d read and then immediately dismissed with a laugh. It was nothing more than a foolish halfwit trying to get what he could from a rich marquess she had told her father, rolling her eyes at him. After all, they had been living quite contentedly these last few years and never had even a hint of trouble. Besides which, she had told herself, they were quite safe here in her father’s country estate, and Emily had been certain that no one would ever be able to reach them.

  How wrong she had been.

  Gasping for breath, she stumbled into her bedroom, seeing the maids scurrying about, hauling her belongings onto the bed. There was no time for her to take much.

  “Here, my lady,” one of the maids murmured, throwing a cloak over Emily’s shoulders. “You’d best make sure you’re warm. It’s a long way to London.”

  Emily blinked but did not respond, feeling as though she were simply watching everything happen around her instead of actually being involved. She let her gaze drift across the room, knowing that she would not see it again for some time.

  “You have them, my lady?”

  Slowly, Emily turned her head back towards Sarah, the maid, not quite sure what she was asking.

  “They’re still where they always were?” the maid asked, putting a tentative hand on Emily’s arm. “You haven’t moved them, have you?”

  Blinking slowly, Emily finally worked out what the maid was saying and shook her head. Everything was moving so slowly, so carefully and tentatively, and she could not understand what was going on around her.

  It was only when she found herself in the carriage, Sarah sitting opposite her as her lady’s maid as they were being driven out of the gates of her father’s country estate, that the coldness began to leave her bones. Her mind slowly came back to life as she worked through everything that had occurred that afternoon. Turning her head, she stared out of the back carriage window, desperate to see any sign of her father. No one had come to tell her what had happened to him or even whether or not he still lived. She was going to her new life without any real knowledge about her dearly loved father.

  Her throat began to ache as she turned away from the window, her mind dulling with pain. Grief tore through her, as tears slipped from her eyes, unabated. This had never been more than something of a joke to her since she had never really believed that either she or her father was in any real danger. But now they were to be separated after all. Perhaps forever.

  Closing her eyes against the sea of pain that threatened to drown her, Emily dragged in air, trying to steady herself. Her life was about to change completely, and it was something that would require all of her strength. Sniffing into her handkerchief, Emily leaned her head back against the squabs and, tired of fighting her tears, gave into her sorrows completely.

  1

  Two months later

  “How are you, my dear?”

  Emily closed her eyes, hating that there was still such a degree of sympathy in her patron’s voice, even though she had been with the family for some months now.

  “I am quite well, Lady Millington. I thank you,” she replied, giving the lady the same response she had done for the last few weeks. “Thank you for your concern.”

  Lady Millington sat down opposite Emily, her expression sympathetic, and Emily immediately felt a wave of guilt crash over her. Cynthia – who had been a dear friend of Emily’s late mother – had been nothing but kind to her since she had arrived on her doorstep some weeks ago, broken and afraid with only Sarah, her maid, for company.

  Cynthia had been horrified to hear what had occurred and had treated Emily as though she were some fragile possession. The first month had been torturous, knowing nothing about what had occurred with her father and whether or not he still lived, but the beginning of the second month had brought a little respite with it. She had received the smallest of notes, bearing the wor
ds: “Alive. Hidden. Remain where you are.”

  She had known what those words meant, well remembering the plan her father had gone over with her time and again, but having never expected to need to play it out. Sighing to herself, she looked across at Lady Millington, who was regarding her with those sharp blue eyes of hers.

  It was not as though she disliked Lady Millington, but rather that her constant sympathy was growing a little wearying. Emily wanted to do something but knew she could not. All she was permitted to engage in were a few short walks around the gardens. There had been no outings to the many wonderful places London had to offer, no company to speak of, and certainly no thought of pursuing social affairs. Then again, social engagements had not been of particular importance to Emily. All she had been concerned about was her father.

  “I can tell that you are struggling to be here all on your own,” Lady Millington began gently, her smile warm and friendly. “I have a proposition for you.”

  Emily looked back at her patron, taking in the smile on Lady Millington’s face. Lady Millington had not yet displayed even an ounce of ill thought, always behaving wisely. She was elegant and graceful, with blonde curls that always were set just so, even though Emily knew it must take the maids a good deal of time to do so. She was still very beautiful, even though she would have been ages with Emily’s mother, had she lived. Her husband, the Earl of Millington, had passed away some years ago, and Emily had no recollection of meeting him although she had been told that she had done so some years ago.

  Lady Millington was now enjoying life, having been left a townhouse in London and a smaller residence in the country near the Millington manor house, where her son, the new Earl of Millington, now resided.

  “Emily?”

  Jumping slightly, she realized that Lady Millington was waiting for her to respond.

  “I do beg your pardon,” she stammered, a little flustered. “I was lost in thought for a moment.”

  Lady Millington chuckled. “I can see that. You have done very well to be so strong thus far, my dear.”

  Emily managed a small smile, aware of the heat in her cheeks. “I cannot tell you just how relieved I am to know my papa still lives. Even though I do not know where he is gone, it has brought me a good deal of happiness in the knowledge that he is not gone from this world, as I had feared.”

  Reaching across to pat Emily’s hand, Lady Millington smiled gently. “I can imagine. Although why he does not simply get rid of those ridiculous gems, I cannot understand.”

  Shaking her head to herself, Emily thought of the Hatherley diamonds, which were still hidden safely away amongst her things. They were the reason for all of this, and she could well understand why Lady Millington would think such a thing. But then she recalled how her father had often told her about his life before he had returned to England, how the diamonds had come into his possession, and she knew that she would fight to retain them despite the danger they brought.

  “My father would be broken hearted,” she explained softly. “You know very well that they are precious to him.”

  Sighing heavily, Lady Millington nodded and looked away, her expression tinged with frustration. She knew and understood the reason for the diamonds, although she clearly felt that the danger that came with them was much too great. However, out of loyalty to Emily’s late mother, as well as to the marquess himself, she did not press the matter of the diamonds any further.

  “Ah, here is the tea tray,” Lady Millington murmured, as the door opened. “I thought you might be in need of some refreshment.”

  As Lady Millington continued to talk about a good many things – the weather, the fashions, the fact that Lord Featherstone was much too old to be wearing such gaudy clothes, Emily let her mind drift back to the Hatherley diamonds, recalling the day her father had first shown them to her.

  He had never been destined to be Marquess of Rawson. That had been his elder brother’s responsibility, and so, without an inclination towards anything in particular, he had gone into the army. With purchased colors, he had done rather well and had forged a strong bond with one Lord Thomas Ferguson, who was in his regiment.

  Thomas had been the second son also, and the two had become firm friends. Emily closed her eyes for a moment, remembering her father’s exact words as he told the story to her. It was as if he were in the room, his familiar voice surrounding her.

  Thomas and he had returned to London for a short respite, and it was here that Thomas had shown him the Hatherley diamonds. They were a family heirloom, but on winning a bet against his elder brother, he had claimed them for his own. He had in mind to bestow them on his dear love, a Miss Eleanor Castleton.

  However, it was not to be. Thomas had been brought down, far from the fair shores of England, and the marquess had cradled him in his arms, as death had approached his friend. Out there, on the battlefield, he had promised to give the Hatherley diamonds to Miss Eleanor Castleton, whomever she might be. Thomas had made him swear that they would be given to her and never removed from her family line. Since they were Thomas’ to give, the marquess had accepted the request without hesitation.

  Once back in England, he found the lady after a good deal of searching and had told her all that had occurred. He had bestowed the Hatherley diamonds on her, and she, from what Emily recalled of the story, had sobbed in his arms. It had been from that moment onwards that their lives had become intertwined. The marquess had married Miss Eleanor, having fallen deeply in love, and it was only a year after their marriage that he found himself ascending to the title, thanks to his brother’s premature death from a duel of some kind.

  Emily was the second of their two children, with her elder brother currently abroad looking over his father’s holdings. The diamonds had remained in their family, just as Thomas had wanted, and there had never been even the smallest hint of trouble – until a few months ago. The old Marquess of Hatherley had passed away, and now his son had taken his place in line – and he did not appear to be pleased that the Hatherley diamonds remained in the Marquess of Rawson’s possession.

  Whilst there had been no formal request for the return of the diamonds, Emily was quite sure that the notes that were sent to her father, demanding that he leave the diamonds in one place or another so that they might be collected by the writer of the notes, had come from no other than the current Marquess of Hatherley.

  And now, she had to remain hidden. Her father had been shot and his study ransacked. Although he had written to let Emily know he was alive, her father had not written to tell her that all was well and that the culprit had been found. She would have to remain with Lady Millington for the foreseeable future, protected by the four walls that seemed to close around her a little more each day.

  “Emily, dear? What do you think of my proposal?”

  Shame flared through her. “I do apologize, Lady Millington,” she stammered, realizing that once again she had been nothing but rude to the lady who had brought her such comfort. “What was it you were suggesting?”

  Lady Millington did not look in the least bit affronted. “I was suggesting, my dear girl, that you accompany me to the house party next week. You cannot come as my friend, of course, since we are to keep your true identity concealed, but I know that a particular gentleman is seeking a suitable companion for his new ward. You could attend the house party under the guise of companion and nothing more, which would give you a little more freedom than you have had of late.” She smiled as Emily’s eyes widened, her heart suddenly lifting from its loneliness. “It would mean you would have to act very differently from how you have been taught thus far, but since it is a house party, I am quite certain you would have very little to worry about. I have made quite sure that Lord Hatherley is not on the guest list!”

  Emily blanched, her stomach tightening suddenly. “Is Lord Hatherley in town?” she asked, her fingers twining together as she held her hands in her lap. “I did not realize.”

  Lady Millington shrugged. “It
is the Season,” she explained, quite matter of fact. “Gentlemen, whether they be kind or cruel, must find themselves a wife and produce an heir. I believe Lord Hatherley intends to do so this year. But as I said,” she finished, waving away Emily’s concerns, “he will not be at the house party.”

  Nodding slowly, Emily considered the matter. “Who is it holding the house party, Lady Millington?”

  An almost dreamlike smile crossed Lady Millington’s face, her eyes sparkling as her cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. “Lord Brighton,” she replied, glancing away from Emily for a moment. “He is not a young man by any means, but he does have a particularly nice manor house only half a day’s drive from London. I am thrilled that he thought to invite me but….” She trailed off, now looking back at Emily with a slightly worried expression on her face. “I would not go should you prefer to remain here. You are my first thought, Emily dear.”

  Emily arched one eyebrow, tilting her head as she studied Lady Millington carefully. “Is Lord Brighton wed?” she asked, a little drolly. “From your flushed cheeks, I would suggest that if he is not, then it would disappoint you a great deal if we did not go.”

  Lady Millington laughed and waved a hand, although the laugh itself was a little strained. “Nonsense, my dear! I would not be disappointed.”

  “Is he married?” Emily persisted, watching with faint amusement as Lady Millington blushed all the more.

  She sighed and lifted one shoulder, as though accepting she had been found out.

  “No, he is not,” she replied with a sigh of exasperation that Emily had been so determined. “But I am speaking in truth when I state that I would not go if you preferred to remain.”