Love's Fiery Jewel (39 page)

Not bothering to respond, Mrs. Dobbs raced for the
kitchen and within moments Mary and she were at the
bedroom door. Moving hurriedly toward her, Damien
said softly, "Quickly, help Miss Amethyst into her night
rail, and call me as soon as she is in bed."

Stopping only for one backward look as Mary hastened
toward Amethyst's motionless figure, Damien disappeared through the doorway. Stripping off his coat, he
threw it on the chair and began pacing the hallway in
front of Amethyst's door. He was impatient to return to
Amethyst's side, and snorted with disgust. If it were not
for the ridiculous charade Amethyst still insisted they
play, he would be inside, helping ready her for bed. But
then, if it were not for that same ridiculous charade,
Amethyst would not be lying on that bed, barely
conscious from his unconscionable blows. Whatever had
possessed him to strike her? To hurt Amethyst was
certainly the last thing he wanted. Why did the damned
little witch insist on taunting him, inflaming his
jealousy? There was the crux of the problem! If he were to
be completely honest, he would have to admit it was his
insane jealousy that had pushed him to such an extreme.
Damn! Damn! Why had he given his word to declare
Amethyst his ward ...why? He wanted nothing more
than to have all of Philadelphia recognize her as his own,
and instead was forced to watch helplessly as other men
fawned and fussed about her while he pretended to be
interested in women who could not hold a candle to his
Amethyst. And tonight, Armand Beauchamps had been
the last straw. The damned lecher had not left her alone for one moment once he had managed to secure a place at
her side. Worst of all was Amethyst's obvious fascination
by the fellow... forgetting his own existence while the
French frog was beside her!

A sound at Amethyst's door interrupted his raging
thoughts, snapping Damien's head around to Mary's
sober face.

"Mr. Straith, Miss Amethyst is presentable now."

Rushing past the maid without a word, Damien strode
to Amethyst's bedside, mumbling over his shoulder,
"You and Mrs. Dobbs may retire for the night, Mary.
You'll not be needed here any longer."

A small choking sound came from the corner of the
room where Mrs. Dobbs stood, her sparse brows raised in
shock. Managing to find her voice, she declared stiffly,
"Certainly, Mr. Straith, you do not wish to have us leave
you alone in Miss Greer's bedroom!" At Damien's quick,
pointed look, she stammered to continue, "I mean...
you did insist, sir, that I do all I could to maintain
propriety and Miss Greer's good reputation. If that is still
the case..."

"That is still the case, Mrs. Dobbs!" Hardly able to
control his impatience with the ridiculous sham, Damien
could not hide the sharp edge to his voice as he
interrupted the woman's faltering words, "but I cared for
Miss Greer when she was close to death in Jamaica, and
am certainly capable of attending her through this little
spell of weakness! I would appreciate it very much now if
both you and Mary would follow my orders and go to
bed!"

Drawing herself up stiffly, Mrs. Dobbs signaled the
quaking Mary to withdraw, and had just reached the
doorway when Damien's voice met her ear. "But if you
feel it will be more propitious, you may leave the door
open behind you."

Turning to shoot Damien a short approving smile, Mrs. Dobbs walked slowly through the bedroom doorway, leaving it ajar.

Keeping his attention in the direction of their exit
until he could hear two distinct sets of footsteps going
down the staircase, Damien shook his head in disgust.
Turning back to find Amethyst's gaze once again averted
from his, he reached to the night table where Mary had
poured a bowl of fresh water, and reaching in, squeezed
out the cloth. Firmly lifting Amethyst's chin until her
eyes met his, he commenced bathing her brow, a look of
inordinate sadness covering his handsome face as he
noted the marks of his blows on her cheeks. Pressing the
cool cloth against the angry redness, he whispered softly,
"Amethyst, this farce we're living is becoming far too
much of a strain on both of us. Would it not be better if
we were to declare our true situation? Surely..."

Amethyst's response was low and instantaneous.
"Better for whom, Damien?"

Anger again beginning to kindle deep inside him,
Damien took a few minutes to refresh the cloth before
turning back to answer her question as he continued to
bathe her flaming cheeks.

"Better for both of us, Amethyst. You must see that we
can't go on this way..."

Suddenly pushing his hand roughly aside, Amethyst
turned the full force of her fury against him as she hissed
in a low, controlled tone, "Do you not now have exactly
what you said you wanted that first morning on the Sally?
Complete freedom to indulge your fancies with other
women while still retaining my `services' at night? All I
have gained out of this farce is a reputation that will
enable me to continue with my life unhindered once you
have decided to cast me aside."

"And the opportunity to torment me with countless
flirtations conducted before my very eyes!"

"Flirtations!" Amethyst's eyes snapped wide with shock. "Flirtations! I have never..."

"Then what would you call your behavior with Armand
Beauchamps, my innocent Amethyst? Certainly a man of
his experience and reputation would not find himself so
deeply intrigued by a casual, pointless conversation, no
matter how affected he was by your beauty."

"Armand Beauchamps is not `deeply intrigued' by me!
How unfair you are, Damien Straith!"

His anger rapidly abating as Amethyst's eyes filled
with tears, Damien waited with a dull ache in his chest as
she swallowed with difficulty and continued, "I told
you, Armand Beauchamps is a fine gentleman who
treated me with courtesy and respect. I enjoyed his
company, and was grateful for his presence while it was
obvious you were otherwise involved for the evening."

There was a short hesitation before Damien responded, his voice low and husky, "Is that why you sang
your song directly to him, Amethyst?" His clear,
penetrating glance held hers soberly as he continued in a
voice just above a whisper, "Twice you have sung that
song in my presence... both times to other men..."

Her lips trembling, Amethyst could no longer control
the tears that slipped from the corners of her brimming
eyes to stain the pillow beside her head. Her response was
faltering. "If my eyes were on Armand Beauchamps
when I sang, it was not he I saw, Damien. I sang my song
tonight to the same man I sang it to once before, although
he is far away and could not hear me..."

A small muscle twitching in his cheek the only sign
that he had perceived the import of her words, Damien
looked wordlessly into her tear-filled gaze for long silent
moments. Turning, he lowered the lamp beside the bed to
a dull glow. His face shrouded in semidarkness, Damien
turned back to gently brush the tears from her cheeks.
Taking her hand in his, he whispered softly, "Close your
eyes and rest, now, Amethyst. I'll sit beside you until you fall asleep." Leaning forward, he kissed her lips lightly,
lingeringly, drawing away to whisper again, "Sleep well,
my darling..."

Emily Dobbs walked slowly up the gleaming walnut
staircase, her thin, colorless lips drawn tightly together
as she approached the second floor. She had been deeply
disturbed by Mr. Straith's conduct of the night before,
and looked forward with an actual dread to the scene that
would confront her eyes when she reached the young
mistress's bedroom. Taking no notice of the first two
doors she passed, she kept her eyes trained on the third
doorway, as she drew closer, noting that it still stood ajar.
She approached hesitantly, finally taking the last two
steps that would find her directly in front of the room.
Slowly exhaling a relieved breath, she saw Amethyst
Greer still abed and sleeping, her young face soft and
innocent in the early morning light. Seated on a chair
beside the bed, his head resting on the coverlet, his arm
extended toward her cheek, Damien Straith also lay in
exhausted slumber. A small smile moving across her face,
Emily Dobbs took a deep breath and prepared to go
inside. Although she was entirely satisfied nothing had
gone amiss last night, it would not do to have anyone see
Mr. Straith coming out of the young mistress's bedroom
at so early an hour. After all, Miss Greer did have a
reputation to maintain!

"Mon apologie, Mademoiselle Greer, for insisting
upon another fitting today," Madame duMaurier muttered as she fussed tediously at Amethyst's waistline,
"but Monsieur Straith insisted that this gown be
perfect.. .made to his exact specifications, and I have
no desire to incur his anger." Raising her brow
expressively, Madame duMaurier did not notice the
startled expression on Amethyst's face as she stared wordlessly at her reflection in the full length mirror.
Having received an urgent call for a fitting that morning,
she had been stunned to find that among the many other
additions to her wardrobe on which the painstaking
couturiere was working, Damien had contracted for a
specific gown without her knowledge, which he had
instructed Madame prepare for the ball to be conducted
at Oeller's the following week. An establishment of much
renown, Oeller's was located just across from the new
Congress Hall, next to Rickett's Circus. Adopted by
Talleyrand and other French emigres, it was the
establishment where the German waltz which had so
fascinated Amethyst was first introduced to America.
But Amethyst was looking forward to the occasion with
both anticipation and trepidation. Damien and she had
not been out socially since the incident at the Strathmore
party, and despite the fact that Damien had been the
epitome of consideration and had shown her no end of
devotion both publicly and in the dark hours of night in
the week since, Amethyst was uncertain what another
exposure to society would bring.

And now this! Shaking her head, Amethyst stared
wide-eyed at the gown Madame duMaurier fitted so
precisely. The dress was outrageously beautiful! A
sapphire silk, its depth of color deepened the glow of her
eyes to a color matched only by the true gems
themselves. Her glorious mane of black curls contrasted
vividly with the magnificent shade, catching its brilliance
to reflect a darker, softer black than a midnight sky. Her
creamy shoulders, almost bared, curved gently atop a
bodice that dipped daringly to expose a tempting curve of
full white breasts. Long, tight sleeves emphasized the
slender length of her arms, ending at the wrist with three
buttons topped with brilliants that sparkled with her
graceful movements. The waistline drew to a modified
point at the center in keeping with the current style; the skirt, devoid of panniers and bustles commonly used,
sweeping out simply and fully to float to feet covered
with matching slippers. The surface of the gown glowed
subtly with sparingly dispersed brilliants, while the main
concentration of the sparkling gems outlined the daring
plunge of her ecolletage and the generous, appealing
swells rising above it. It was a gown of inordinate beauty
that stirred memories of a night long before when
Damien had first seen her perform.. .the night Damien
had first announced his claim on her, declaring with all
the assurance of his compelling masculine mystique that
she was his and his alone. And although her fight had
been long and arduous, she still remained as strongly
under his spell as she had fallen that night...

Her face suddenly draining of color, Amethyst swayed
weakly, raising her hand to her temple as her dark fringe
of lashes fluttered against pale cheeks. Was this
Damien's reason for contracting for this dress? To
remind her that despite all her struggles,she would
remain his until he no longer desired her?

As anxiety mounted, Amethyst swayed more noticeably, causing Madame duMaurier to gasp nervously,
"Mademoiselle, are you not well? Mademoiselle..."

The slender couturiere's arms were too frail to support
Amethyst's weight as Amethyst grew suddenly weaker,
and near panic, the woman called loudly for aid. Within
moments, strong arms supported Amethyst for a few
seconds prior to sweeping her up to carry her to the
chaise in the corner of the room.

The room had gone suddenly dim, and blinking
rapidly, Amethyst struggled to identify the face bending
over her, but the deep, melodious voice that spoke
worriedly in her ear needed no identification.

"Mon Dieu! Are you alright, Amethyst? Cherie...
please speak to me...are you alright?" Rubbing her
hands briskly, Armand Beauchamps frowned darkly into the lovely white face beneath his, a flash of relief
lightening his expression as Amethyst's glance steadied
and the color slowly began to return to her cheek.

Attempting to stop her as Amethyst began to draw
herself to a sitting position, Armand said with alarm,
"No, ma cherie, you must rest a few moments."

Embarrassed at her extreme reaction to her own flight
of fancy, Amethyst resisted his restraint to pull herself
up to a sitting position. Her voice still a trifle shaken, she
said quickly, "Nonsense, Armand. I'm fine. I've not been
sleeping well lately and I'm afraid the sleepless nights are
finally beginning to take their toll."

Realizing her discomfort, Armand followed her lead,
responding lightly as he kept careful watch for any
telltale signs of weakness.

"Ali. I, too, have had many wakeful nights, ma petite
Amethyst, but mine have been due to a vision of a lovely
young woman with violet eyes which would give me no
peace."

Feeling stronger by the moment, Amethyst stared at
him a second before laughing lightly, "Armand, you
make me fear that the rumors I have heard about you are
true. I had not realized you are such an incorrigible
flirt!"