Darcy Darlington and the Diamond of Desire by Maya Rodale

Darcy darlington and the diamond of desire

Chapter ten ~ In which our heroine makes a deal with the devil.

“Weatherby?” Darcy queried, a little too quickly, loudly, and passionately for it to go unnoticed. She bit her tongue a second too late; she had revealed more than she probably ought to. It was the mistake of an amateur.

“Mrs. Betts, you may go now. When the authorities arrive, you may assure them a mistake was made and everything is in order here.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Mrs. Betts shot Darcy a look loaded with poison and quit the room.

“She’s very protective of me,” Percy explained. “Now, Miss Darcy, what do you know of the name Weatherby?”

“What do you know of the name Weatherby?” she asked evasively.

Percy burst out laughing at her immature retort.

“My dear girl, I haven’t laughed at the name Weatherby in years! For that alone, I shall confide in you. Well, that, and I have not spoken of it for so long, and I have wished to, but had no one to listen.”

“I’ll listen,” Darcy said, humbled and sympathetic. The man was so obviously lonely that it broke her heart.

“The name, and the man, has been the source of my heartache and regret all of these years,” Percy started to explain. “The short version of a very long, painful story is that Marcus Weatherby was my best friend. He seduced my wife, Colleen, whom I loved very much. But I knew that she had never loved me. They couldn’t be together, married, as they wished to be so long as I lived. Instead, we concocted a scheme in which they would fake their deaths, and start over in the West Indies. They say if you love something, let it go….Thus, the fire in the North Wing, which, I might point out, was on the verge of collapse anyway. My daughter, Felicia, though….”

Percy swallowed, and blinked rapidly, and looked forlornly at the urns on the mantle.

“What do you know of the name Weatherby?” he asked again.

“Did your wife have a sister?”

“No. Please, Miss Darcy, tell me what you know,“ he said plaintively.

It was as she expected—Felicia either lied or had been mislead. But Darcy now had enough confidence to insinuate what she suspected.

“I know of a young woman named Miss Felicia Weatherby,” Darcy said. Percy dropped his teacup. It shattered on the floor. They both ignored it.

Darcy stood and strolled over to the mantle. She pointed to the urns.

“The diamonds are in there, are they not?”

“You have to admit they are safe there, so long as people presume that the ashes of murdered corpses are contained within. But, Miss Darcy…”

“I was about to reach in myself when Mrs. Betts caught me. But I suppose I deserve it. I was going to steal from you.”

“The diamonds mean nothing to me. I only kept them because I have no need to sell them, and no one to give them to. Miss Darcy, you cannot simply mention the name Felicia Weatherby to me and drop the subject. My daughter’s name was Felicia Hartshorne. I now wonder if perhaps she did not die at all but was taken by her mother. She was supposed to stay with me, you see.”

She had not expected this: Out of love, Percy had helped his wife run off with his best friend. In return, she had taken their daughter, and allowed him to believe her dead. He had been left completely alone, tormented by remorse. She understood now why he never made any effort to clear his name—he thought he was truly guilty of the most heinous crime.

But he was not. His daughter lived and needed him as he needed her.

“Percy, you have my word that I will arrange an introduction.”

“And you, Miss Darcy, will have the diamonds.”

To Be Continued…

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