Desire Wears Diamonds (8 page)

His eyes dropped to her basket where the
edge of a rumpled sheet of paper was visible and she shifted to
push it further under her skirts. She’d have told him it was
rubbish but then her sanity would be in doubt. After all, who dove
into the street without looking after rubbish?

“Not even a half-hearted attempt at a lie?”
he asked. “I’m quite gullible.”

She smiled shaking her head. “I’m not saying
I’m not capable of deception, sir. But with you, Mr. Rutherford, I
find I am at a loss. I owe you my life so I will begin by repaying
you with total honesty.”

“So, the papers are…?” he pressed
gently.

“None of your concern.” Grace held her
breath and bravely awaited his disapproval.

“You are a woman of mystery, Miss
Porter.”

She felt a flutter of a warm spasm of
pleasure inside her chest at the words. “What a lovely thing to
say!”

“Is it?” Mr. Rutherford asked in shock. “Are
you sure?”

She shrugged. “Well, it sounds better than…”
Grace caught herself, wishing the man didn’t have a talent for
making her act like a giddy schoolgirl. The carriage rocked as one
of the wheels struck a deep hole in the road and Michael’s face
took on a gray tinge. She stiffened her back and attempted to
redirect the conversation. “We should divert the driver and get you
to a hospital, Mr. Rutherford.”

“Absolutely not. I promise I’ll see a
physician, if that will content you.”

“It barely satisfies but I don’t know you
well enough to bully you one way or the other, sir.”

“You bullied me into this carriage.”

“That was a feat, wasn’t it?”

“It was. I can’t remember the last time I
was bullied into anything, Miss Porter.”

“I will refrain from abusing my powers if I
can.”

He smiled back at her and for Grace, the
world faded away. Suddenly the reality that Mr. Rutherford was
taking up over half of the small space in the hansom cab’s
interior; that his feet were by necessity tucked under her skirts;
that every time she inhaled she was treated to a heady mix of the
scent of his skin and a hint of cinnamon and musk.
His soap? Or
the herbs his wife adds to his laundry…

“It’s oddly comforting to be ordered about,”
he admitted. “Too many years in the army are to blame I
suspect.”

Before she could ask him any one of the
dozen questions that leapt into her mind, the carriage came to a
halt and her worst nightmare unfolded.

Michael felt the familiar carriage he’d
hired to spy on the woman sitting next to him pull to a stop and
everything instantly changed.

“Please,” she whispered, reaching across to
catch his hand, anxiously looking into his eyes. “Please don’t tell
him…anything! I beg you!”

Before he could respond or even comprehend
who it was he was not telling whatever it was he wasn’t supposed to
say, a man was pounding on the carriage door, his angry face
peering in at her through the window. “Mrs. Dorsett said you’d gone
for errands but I don’t recall you needing a carriage to—Who is
this man?”

Shit. There goes the high ground!

Grace opened the door, feigning outrage.
“Sterling! How can you be so rude?” She climbed down unassisted
before Michael could stop her. “Mr. Rutherford was kind enough to
see me home after I had a bit of a mishap while shopping. I tripped
and would have fallen into traffic if not for his effort to save my
life!”

“Mr. Rutherford?” Sterling asked, his angry
expression giving way to confusion. “How gallant of the
gentleman!”

“I was looking at ribbons for a new bonnet
and—well, I know the details of my days bore you, but yes, thank
goodness for Mr. Rutherford! I know he’d hoped to surprise you but
I’m afraid I spoiled things for him.”

“To surprise me? Had he?” Sterling took a
measured step back, his gaze firmly locked on Michael, his
curiosity unmistakable. “I’m sorry. How is it that the gallant Mr.
Rutherford wished to surprise me?”

“He’d come by to call on you a few days
ago…but there was an incident, as I said, and…I think his ribs are
broken…”

“To call on
me
? You said nothing of
it, Grace.” Sterling’s brow furrowed as he tried to take in the
jumble of facts.

“At my request,” Michael answered quickly,
not fond of the way Grace’s face was losing color. “I wished to
give you a pleasant surprise.” He was virtually trapped inside the
carriage, wincing as he shifted forward on the seat, doing his best
to ignore the glassy sharp pain in his side. Good manners dictated
that he climb down for introductions, but Grace was still blocking
the doorway and made no sign of moving.

“To what purpose?” Sterling asked.

“To reacquaint himself naturally!” she said.
“You’ve met before but...as I said, he is injured so—”

“
Naturally
?” Sterling looked at her
in astonishment. “Is it possible for me to have forgotten such an
acquaintance?”

“From India.” Grace glanced back at Michael,
biting her lower lip. “Is that not what you said, Mr.
Rutherford?”

“Yes. In India, briefly.” Michael kept his
tone as light as he could, his hand on the carriage door as he
braced himself. “I was in the army and hired out by the East India
Trading Company.”

Sterling’s eyes shifted back to Michael. “I
don’t recall a Mr. Rutherford but I never really paid much
attention to the men in the lower ranks.”

Grace gasped at the insult. “Sterling!”

“No offense taken,” Michael said. “Unlike
some, I’ve never pretended to be a gentleman.”

Grace gasped again but Michael couldn’t take
it back. Nor did he wish to after seeing how the words had hit
their mark as Sterling’s composure faltered.

The bastard’s all about show and
pretense.

Sterling recovered and smiled. “A man of
such sharp wit is generally unforgettable, Mr. Rutherford, yet I’m
still having difficulty placing you. Tell me again how this
surprise was to be engineered and how you are in a carriage with my
younger sister?”

Grace’s agitation was keenly evident as she
continued to block her brother’s path. “Please, Sterling! Mr.
Rutherford has been nothing short of heroic! He saved my life, at
great risk to his own only to be rewarded by us keeping him from
seeking out a doctor!”

“Such a dramatic act! What dangers are
leaping out of bonnet shops that I’m not aware of?”

“I fell into the street in front of a
carriage and he pulled me back, just in time.” She turned shyly
back toward Michael, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. “I
felt the breeze from the turning carriage wheels against my face.
It was—terrifying!”

Michael’s eyes widened a little in surprise
as her tone expressed more delight than fear at the recounting.
Apparently Miss Grace Porter was not a woman who shied from
adventures.
Damn. She’s more appealing at every turn.

“What a great coincidence that he was
there!” Sterling crossed his arms. “What street was it again?”

“Sterling!” She protested then continued her
voice dropping to a softer plea. “Please, brother. Surely this is a
conversation that can wait for a better time!”

“How horrible of me. I don’t wish to seem
ungracious. Come inside and I’ll send for a doctor and we’ll—“

“Don’t trouble yourself on my behalf,”
Michael cut him off. There was no way he was going to allow himself
to be dosed with laudanum and become defenseless under Sterling’s
roof. He forced himself to sit up straighter, gritting his teeth
against the pain. “Forgive me if I keep my seat but I’ll take Miss
Porter’s advice and take the carriage on to see my own
physician.”

Broken. I don’t need Rowan to tell me I’ve
broken a few ribs.

“Perhaps my brother’s suggestion is the
wiser course, Mr. Rutherford!” Grace protested, turning back to
plead her case through the carriage window. “You are clearly in
pain, sir! Please! Stay!”

Michael shook his head. He didn’t know if
Sterling really recognized him but he didn’t want to linger and
find out before he was confident of being able to stand on his own
two feet. “I should go. I’ve disrupted the day enough.”

“Not at all,” Sterling said. “Even if I’m
not clear on the course of events, I’m grateful for your actions.
Mr. Rutherford, you must allow me to repay you for your
bravery.”

Michael was grateful for the shield of the
carriage door to hide the involuntary fisting of his hands in
frustration. “No payment is necessary.”

Sterling went on. “A humble show of thanks.
Come to dinner Sunday next. We can reminisce about our adventures
in India and truly reacquaint ourselves.”

Grace’s head popped up, surprise framing her
expression. “D-dinner?”

“What say you?”

Hell, no! I say I’d rather eat dinner with a
viper!

Caught. He was caught. Whatever vague plan
he’d been working on had evaporated the instant he’d fallen under
that blasted carriage wheel. He was caught in his lie to Grace.
Logic and the rules of polite society dictated that he should
happily accept an invitation to “reacquaint” himself with Mr.
Sterling Porter. One look at Miss Grace Porter and it was a jumbled
mess in his mind, her strange guilt at being on Oxford Street and
the lies and secrets she was enlisting him to keep—whatever they
might be.

He cleared his throat. “I would hate to
impose—“

“No imposition!” Sterling smiled again and
Michael felt a bubble of bile rising in is throat. “I insist. Grace
would be in attendance and I’m sure, she would be hurt if you
refused.”

Trapped like a fly in amber. Damn it!

“How can I refuse?” Michael said then looked
to Grace. “Dinner. Sunday next.”

“Let’s say eight o’clock?” Sterling
added.

If she’d protested, Michael would have had
his excuse to withdraw from the invitation, but Grace looked up
into his eyes, a strange flash of anxiety in their blue depths,
adding to the puzzle.

“Yes.” Michael said, a man in a trance.

“Sunday next, Mr. Rutherford.” Sterling
clapped his hands and broke the connection between the pair.

Michael touched his forehead out of habit,
reaching for the brim of a hat that wasn’t there, and was rewarded
with a shard of hot glass stabbing into his side. But the pain was
nothing. He’d have endured anything and kept the smile on his face
rather than reveal weakness to his archenemy. He knocked on the
carriage ceiling to signal the driver and the horses pulled away
into the lane and spared him the sight of a Sterling Porter’s
crocodile smiles.

Game is bloody on now.

Surprise.

CHAPTER SIX

“You’ve broken at least two ribs,
Rutherford.” Rowan announced as he felt as gingerly as he could
along Michael’s side to explore the damage done. “Are you spitting
up any blood? Does it particularly hurt anywhere else?”

Michael bit his lip to keep from saying
anything too sarcastic. “I’ve not punctured anything if that’s what
you’re asking and it hurts like the devil when I breathe. Please
just wrap it as tightly as you can and let’s call it good.”

Rowan smiled but pulled out the bandages he
would need along with a pair of good scissors to cut the cloth.
“Why are all my friends such terrible patients?”

Michael ignored him.

Rowan slowly lifted Michael’s arm to hold it
away from his body while he started the wrap. “It’s badly bruised.
You’ll have a blueberry pie under your armpit before morning. The
cut on your head is incidental and I don’t see the need for any
stitches but you may have another scar to add to your lovely
countenance.”

“I don’t care.” Michael reached up to touch
his head and regretted it as the pain from his ribs sliced up his
spine. “Damn! Well, at least my balls have stopped throbbing.”

“I’m not going to ask. But I’ll leave you
something for the pain.” Rowan eyed his bag. “I brought a new
mixture that is said not to be addictive if—”

“No. There’s no need. Now is not the time to
be groggy or slow-witted.”

“Is this part of your plan? Did the Jackal
do this?”

“No. A four in hand. But…the situation may
have moved things along.”

“Tell me.”

“She was there.”

“She?”

“The Jackal has a younger sister.” Michael
reached up to run his hand through is hair out of habit and winced
in regret at the gesture, instantly dropping his arm back to where
Rowan had held it. “And don’t look at me like that.”

“Any other man, I’d be more worried. But
let’s have it.”

“She’d stumbled into the path of a carriage
and I pulled her back. She’s proclaimed me a hero and her brother
has invited me back for dinner Sunday next.” Michael stood to
retrieve his shirt. “He is eager to
discuss
our adventures
together in India.”

“My god! It’s a nightmare!” Rowan shook his
head slowly. “This is insane, Rutherford. You can’t play parlor
games with this man.”

“I’ll do what I have to. It’s the meeting we
meant to have weeks ago only this time, it’s better. We risk only
one of us. One way or another, he’ll reveal himself. He’s too
frustrated to pass up his chance and too overconfident not to make
his threats and when he does, he’ll tell me what we need to know.
Hell, I’ve already determined so much more of him than we’d ever
hoped.”

“And if he’s more clever then you give him
credit for and keeps his cards close to his chest? Then what?”

“Then I’m the one who’ll take advantage of
the chance. His sister has been kind and if I’m a good guest then
perhaps I’ll get invited back again. Maybe I can find a way to
search his study for clues or uncover an advantage to give us the
lever we need to push this son of a bitch into the sea.”

“A good guest?”

“Leave it, Rowan.”

“All he has to do is express disapproval at
what he’ll term an “unacceptable suitor” and you’re on the wrong
side of that door. Game over.”