“It’s very old and very ugly,” she said, careful not to look into the mirror. She wasn’t certain of what she’d seen, but she didn’t want to view it again.
“But you’ll cherish it all the same,” he said, returning the mirror to the box, “because it belonged to your mother.”
He placed the box on the floor of the carriage, in the clever little well designed to store small articles, and she smiled her thanks.
She glanced at Kilmarin only once as they pulled away, then concentrated on her clasped hands.
Douglas handed her a handkerchief.
She glanced over at him and smiled, even as a tear fell down each cheek. His look was compassionate, and much too intimate to be witnessed by Florie. A glance at her maid, however, proved that Florie was as tactful as she was talented. Florie was staring out the window as if the view were fascinating.
In the circumstances, it was all too natural for Douglas to lean forward and place a kiss on Sarah’s forehead. She pulled back, blotting her face with his handkerchief and holding on to it as a talisman for most of the day.
The journey back to Chavensworth was, thankfully, quickly done. Or perhaps it had taken the same time as traveling north and just seemed faster to Douglas. The weather was fair; the stops to change the horses and stretch their own legs were the only punctuation to the days.
The same inn at which they’d stayed on the way north had only one room available, and he gave it up to Sarah and Florie. Sarah had slipped her bottle of scent into his hand when he’d escorted them to the room. They’d exchanged a look that had warmed him through the night.
The train was as comfortable; the only difficulty was waiting for their car to be attached and the carriage lashed to an available flatcar.
When Chavensworth was sighted, he almost sighed in relief. Even the horses seemed ecstatic to have reached the end of their journey. Their pace sped up, as if Tim couldn’t control them, and all of them had to hold on to the straps mounted above the windows in order not to be tossed to the side of the seats.
Tim pulled to the front of Chavensworth, and Douglas exited first, holding out his hand for Sarah, thenFlorie. Thomas was coming down the steps, two footmen behind him.
“Have our trunks taken to the Duke’s Suite,” he directed, before turning again to Sarah. “I’ll go with Tim to the stables,” he said. “I need to check on the diamonds.”
She patted his lapel with one gloved hand, the brim of her bonnet shielding her face.
He reached out and touched her cheek, his fingers sliding over the smoothness of her skin, resurrecting other memories, creating a yearning in him for a proper kiss.
She tilted her head back and smiled at him, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.
“I shall see you later?” she asked. “Not much later, I hope.”
Did she ache for him as much as he ached for her?
“If it weren’t necessary to see to the diamonds,” he said, too softly for Thomas or Florie to hear, “I’d accompany you to our room right this moment.”
She flushed, the perfect response, and one that summoned his smile. With that, he bent and kissed her, ignoring the presence of the others. Sarah must have forgotten them as well, because she placed both hands on his shoulders and stood on tiptoe to deepen the kiss.
Finally, he pulled back, smiling at her. She picked up her skirts with both hands, turned, and ascended the steps.
He watched her all the way.
At the top, she turned and glanced down at him, her smile a sign that she was well aware of his perusal.
He entered the carriage again, and when they reached the stables, left Tim, heading for the observatory. Alano had been busy in his absence.
Two dozen square wooden frames were scattered throughout the observatory, propped on ledges and resting against walls. Each frame held more than a dozen twisted silk fibers. On each strand were dozens of viscous droplets now glittering in the faint light from a dwindling sun. Interspersed between the droplets were translucent granules, some no larger than clumps of sand. He began inspecting the diamond threads. Growing diamonds was successful only if the area was pristine. Anything in the air, such as dust or dirt particles, could be transmitted to the granules themselves, resulting in dirty diamonds. Diamonds with flaws wouldn’t fetch a good enough price to satisfy the Duke of Herridge.
Alano had been fastidious, as usual.
Douglas had replaced the dirt floor with long planks of wood nailed together and sealed with a marine varnish. Alano had covered the floor with linen to catch any dust seeping up into the observatory. Likewise, he’d covered the dome ceiling with a canopy of linen, another preventative measure. Every shelf was carefully dusted and covered, every surface in the observatory was as clean as they could make it.
The clusters fed on the droplets, growing quickly over a period of days. After they dried, the final part of the process was heating the clusters, the most dangerous part of the process, simply because the formula used to grow the diamonds was volatile.
Satisfied with the results inside the observatory, he left the building to inspect the construction of the furnace. Hearing a noise behind him, he turned, expecting to see Alano, and faced, instead, Simons, the Duke of Herridge’s ubiquitous majordomo.
“Simons,” he said. “What the hell are you doing here?”
