Radiance (Diamonds of the First Water #3)

Chapter Three

R adiance ignored him and examined the diamond again. Perhaps a hair was underneath the gem, between it and the velvet.

“Might I touch the stone?”

“Absolutely not,” Mr. Lockwood shot back. “I have already made that clear. Now please take your seat so we may continue.”

She did as he asked. After all, if she was incorrect, then she would make a fool of herself. It might have been a trick of the light. She needed her magnifying spectacles to be certain.

Back in her chair, she started to muse upon what she thought she’d seen while Mr. Lockwood discussed the far more famous Koh-i-Noor gem. Since she had read so much about the Indian diamond, it was as though he were retelling a favorite story. However, when he began his discourse upon the Dresden and continued with the Florentine, the Nassak, and the Sancy, Radiance paid close attention. As these were less known to her, she took many notes, filling her pages until the lecture was over.

At its conclusion, the audience rushed to the front, filing past the Hope Diamond in an unruly fashion. Although Lord Woolley tried to push her into the surging throng, she held back until they could bring up the rear.

Radiance wanted to take one last lingering look, to try to confirm what she’d seen. Mr. Lockwood had pulled the diamond back toward him, perhaps concerned by the enthusiastic viewers. At the new angle, she saw nothing out of the ordinary and decided it had been mere over-excitement on her part.

When she raised her glance to apologize for her odd behavior, Mr. Lockwood looked as though he might ask her a question. His perfect lips actually opened slightly, but then his mouth closed, and he merely nodded. She did the same, amenable to saying nothing more.

At her elbow, however, Lord Woolley wasn’t finished. “A jolly good talk,” he said jovially, addressing the geologist.

Mr. Lockwood startled as if he hadn’t expected any sort of praise.

“I am glad you found it enjoyable,” he replied stiffly.

Radiance thought he could not more plainly indicate that he didn’t give a rat’s arse if anyone liked it or not.

“It was interesting in places if a jot long-winded,” Lord Woolley added, ruining his prior praise, “and not nearly as good as the talk I went to last week on the invasion of our country by the Muntjac.”

“The what?” Mr. Lockwood asked, his golden-brown eyes widening as he looked from Lord Woolley to her and back again.

Radiance wondered if barricades were being set up at all major ports against the mysterious invasion of which she hadn’t heard a word.

“The Muntjac,” Lord Woolley repeated. “Those little deer from the Orient. Mr. Reeves brought them to his Woburn Park estate in Bedfordshire back in 1838. Very naughty of him.”

“I’ve never heard of him or his deer,” she admitted, looking abashedly at Mr. Lockwood. Undoubtedly, the man wished to be rid of pesky audience members who wouldn’t go away.

Lord Woolley shrugged and continued on without noticing whether anyone was heeding him.

“John Russell Reeves is the East India Company Chief Inspector of Teas. I say he has no business bringing off-island deer to Britain. I swear some have escaped their enclosure. A new species as large as they are —”

“You said they were little,” Mr. Lockwood pointed out.

“ Hm ?” Lord Woolley frowned. “Oh yes, little deer . But they aren’t squirrels, are they? Besides, they don’t even look like our deer. And since they graze, there can be serious consequences. Why, they may clear shrubs in our woodlands. Only imagine what that might do to the birds and butterflies.”

Radiance tried to imagine but couldn’t. It appeared to her as if Mr. Lockwood wasn’t even trying at all. He glanced back and forth between her and Lord Woolley with a somewhat judgmental expression.

All at once, embarrassed at the notion this intelligent, attractive man thought her to be coupled with Woolley, Radiance wished to depart as quickly as possible.

“Thank you again, Mr. Lockwood.” Radiance turned away, sorry the lecture was over. She could listen to the man all day long, not to mention gaze at him.

“Shouldn’t we make proper introductions?” Lord Woolley asked, making her halt sharply.

“That isn’t necessary,” she began, feeling certain they’d overstayed their welcome.

“Good manners are always necessary. Wot wot! ” he insisted. “Whether at a ball or here at a Somerset lecture, it is my duty to introduce you to this gentleman with whom you converse so freely.”

Radiance thought that sounded even more as though they were engaged.

“Not your duty, exactly,” she protested.

“Mr. Lockwood, I present Lady Radiance.”

She sighed. In all her young years, she’d only minded her given name a few times. It certainly wasn’t pretentious on her part, as one young lady had declared during Radiance’s presentation to the Queen at court.

“How can I be pretentious?” she had asked the other debutante. “I did not choose it.”

Her mother had hurried her away from the sneering girl. “She is jealous, that’s all,” Carolyn Diamond had insisted.

In any case, her family and friends called her “Ray,” which was short and easy. But now, in front of the impossibly attractive Mr. Lockwood, Radiance could only wish Lord Woolley hadn’t spoken her name with such flourish that he managed to turn the three syllables — “Ra-di-ance!” — into a long, drawn-out, sing-song of a word.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Lockwood queried, looking at her directly.

“I am Lady Radiance,” she said softly. “Pleased to meet you.”

He blinked. “Are you making a joke?”

Lord Woolley laughed. “That’s not the best of it, sir. She is Lady Radiance Diamond. Isn’t that a delightful mouthful?”

Radiance nearly covered her heated face with her gloved hands but managed to square her shoulders and keep her composure.

“Is he speaking in jest?” Mr. Lockwood asked. Still, he was addressing her , not Lord Woolley. Moreover, she thought his expression to be a tad peeved.

“No, of course not,” she said.

The geologist crossed his arms. “Really? If I were a butcher, would you and your ... your friend think it amusing to approach me and introduce yourself as Lady Succulent Lambchop?”

Radiance was stunned into silence, but Lord Woolley laughed long and loudly.

“That’s very good, sir.”

“And what is your name?” Mr. Lockwood asked. “Lord Dull Stones?”

Although it was unkind, Radiance wanted to laugh at the remark, but clearly, Lord Woolley didn’t. Instead, he bristled.

“Here now. Did you insult me, sir?”

“I haven’t time for this,” Mr. Lockwood said. He’d already stuffed his notes into a leather satchel along with the pistol. Now, quick as a hummingbird, he rolled the Hope Diamond in its velvet and dropped it back into the wooden box. Snapping the lid shut, he tucked it under his arm and preceded them from the hall.

“Strange, uncouth fellow,” Lord Woolley said as they followed slowly.

Radiance did not agree, so she said nothing. On the street, she allowed Lord Woolley to assist her into her father’s carriage where Sarah was now dozing in the corner, her serialized magazine open on her lap.

Before Lord Hollidge’s friend could ask her whether he might escort her again at a later date, she yanked on the bellpull. Her father’s driver started forward.

“Thank you,” she called out the window, then settled back against the squabs. Soft but firm, not too worn but broken in, and smelling of her father’s familiar cologne and her mother’s pretty perfume.

Lady Lambchop! Radiance could not crack a smile because Mr. Lockwood clearly considered her real name equally as ridiculous. For her own part, her thoughts remained firmly on the Hope Diamond for the duration of the ride home to Piccadilly. She ought to have told him her concern and risked his derision.

That evening, looking at her drawings both of him and of her sketches of the diamond from the Great Exhibition, she knew she must follow her conscience.

Edward kept the clever female in his head for far too long, still musing upon her while eating a late supper of roasted chicken and potatoes, which Mrs. McSabby set before him.

He’d been surprised to see the woman again, even more amazed to have remembered her from months earlier. Quickly, he'd realized why she was so memorable. It wasn’t merely her flaming red hair, nor her emerald-colored eyes, but also her forthright manner.

Interested, intelligent, confident .

He reminded himself the intriguing woman had a beau, one who thought himself quite the issuer of a humorous dry bob.

What had he called her? Radiant Diamond! It wasn’t in the least witty, either, almost sounding like a woman of pleasure. Not the hedge-whore variety, but an expensive courtesan like his own Miss Maura.

In reality, the man was a bore!

Yet having his interest captured and held made Edward’s thoughts wander back to when he last had a long-term connection with a female. While still at university, there’d been a lively girl he’d imagined he might marry. However, he’d lost her due to neglect.

Fortunately, he couldn’t claim to feeling particularly distraught when a more attentive swell had stolen her out from under his nose.

That had been six years earlier. Since then, he’d escorted a few pretty women hither and yon when the fancy took him. Usually, they were some friend’s sister or cousin. He'd never felt the urge to pursue them beyond a single dance or one excruciatingly long evening at the theater. When it came to the fair sex, Edward feared he was becoming more persnickety each year.

Luckily, he lived in London, and there was no shortage of paramours, beautiful and educated for those times when he felt the urge and could pull himself away from his work.

The following morning over coffee, the redhead came back unbidden into his thoughts. She fell into none of the categories he was used to. Thus, he mentally tucked her into a compartment in his brain similarly to how he sorted the precious stones in his collection cabinet.

Not yet in his thirties but growing painfully close, Edward wondered if he was destined to be a bachelor. Then he wondered no more about such nonsense when a missive arrived from the Queen, summoning him to Buckingham Palace in two days’ time.

Now there was an astute and interesting female. And her husband was an equally good egg. Edward had met them on numerous occasions, after their Crown Jeweler, Mr. Garrard, told them what a “discerning eye” he had for quality gemstones.

The royal couple had consulted with him when they were presented with choices that few were offered. The Queen, in particular, had hoped for something prettier than the armlet in which the Koh-i-Noor was now set with two other smaller stones. And her disappointment was keenly felt by the Prince Consort.

Moreover, after the gem’s disappointing reception at the Great Exhibition, they’d asked his opinion on keeping the diamond as it was or cutting it.

Size mattered in gemstones, but so did the refraction of light, something the Koh-i-Noor sorely lacked. Edward had offered them his opinion — either live with the knowledge that one’s famed diamond was less than spectacular or risk cutting it. Poorly done and the Koh-i-Noor would lose value. Well executed and its popularity would soar even as its carat weight — and thus, its size — shrank.

The summons from the Palace, in fact, requested he attend a meeting to decide upon which jeweler would do the cutting. Edward shook his head. Most of the jewelers were at least a decade older than he was, some two decades. Moreover, he was a geologist, not a skilled cutter or polisher. Still, he was honored to be asked to advise.

Meanwhile, he had to keep the Hope Diamond safe. Edward had been accused of a slight tendency toward absent-mindedness. That was fine with a shoe or a glove, even his favorite hat had occasionally gone missing before disappearing altogether, but such a trait would not do with one of the most precious gems in the world.

However, Mr. Hope would not return for a few days, and Edward had been instructed to return it only to him. Thus, he had stashed it in the back of his sample cabinet.

A knock at his front door interrupted him as he packed his satchel in preparation for heading to King’s College. After a minute, he heard another knock and realized his housekeeper wasn’t going to attend to the person on his doorstep.

“Blast!” he muttered, striding along the passageway toward the front of his home.

“Mrs. McSabby!” Edward called into the silence. However, a maid whose name he didn’t recall poked her head from the small salon just as he went by.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“On the third floor, I believe, sir.”

“But someone is at my door on this floor.”

“Shall I —?”

“I’m nearly there already,” he pointed out, shutting the door as he passed, barely a second after she withdrew her kerchiefed head.

Then he paused. Tugging on the ends of his sleeves, reassuring himself he was wearing a coat, Edward opened the front door.

“It’s you,” he said to the red-haired female from his lecture.

“You answered your own door!” she said, sounding equally surprised before she immediately clamped a gloved hand to her mouth. “My apologies, sir. That was dreadfully rude of me.”

He felt tongue-tied. A female on his doorstep. This particular pretty one. Insulting him . How could she be at the door of his Berkeley Square townhouse? He cleared his throat.

“I suppose you have never opened your own front door.”

“No, actually, I have not.” After that admittance, she simply stood there.

“Are you alone?” he asked. “Or is your bore — I mean, your beau with you?”

Her lovely face, which was all creamy skin and pink cheeks, with a dusting of freckles over her nose that he hadn’t noticed prior but now charmed him — that face took on an expression of confusion. Then she smiled in comprehension.

“Oh, you mean Lord Woolley from the lecture. He is not my beau. He is not my anything.”

“I see.” Although he did not. What did she want? How could a single lady knock upon his door?

“I have a maid accompanying me, sir,” she added when he hesitated. Gesturing behind herself to an expensive-looking carriage parked a few feet away. Another female, presumably the maid, peered from the window.

“I am not certain you grasp the meaning of accompanying, but it is all the same to me.” And it was. Not that Edward didn’t know society’s rules, but he hadn’t time to worry over them. It wasn’t his problem if this lady wished to flaunt the customs of her class.

His class, too, since his father was a middle son of a viscount. Although since he wasn’t titled, Edward felt he could more easily be allowed to forget the extreme niceties.

“May I come in?” she asked. “It is about the Hope Diamond.”

Ah! Now her visit made sense.

“No, you may not see it again, nor may you hold it. That is out of the question. I bid you a good day.”

She didn’t back up an inch. “Is it still in your possession?”

“That is none of your business. Good day.”

He went to close the door, but she didn’t move. Despite thinking her a bothersome chit, he couldn’t close the door in her face. Not in any female’s face.

“Will you please step back and turn away?”

“No.” The lady’s hands went to her hips. “As a geologist, you should be interested in what I have to say.”

“Very well. Say it.”

“You wish me to conduct a conversation on your doorstep?”

Edward nearly snapped a resounding yes . Instead, he told her the truth because she was ruffling him in ways he hadn’t been ruffled in a while.

“I don’t wish to conduct a conversation at all.”

“It is important, sir. I believe the stone you have is not the Hope Diamond.”

“I don’t have time for such foolishness. It was given to my care by Mr. Hope himself. Good day.”

And this time, he did close the door, somewhat firmly.

He hated to think her a scam artist who was pretending to be a lady. W hat other explanation was there? She had wanted to hold it in her hand during the lecture. Coming to his home, she probably thought to flirt with him so savagely that he didn’t notice if she slipped it into her pocket.

He might be a tad distracted by her, but he would definitely notice that.

“You may be sorry,” she said from the other side of the door.

“Doubtful,” he muttered and returned to his workroom.