Diamonds are for Deception: The Carlotta Diamond / The Texan's Diamond Bride / From Dirt to Diamonds

Sojo’s sigh of relief was audible.

He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised.

‘I dread the question, who’s going to be mother?’

The phrase was delivered in such mincing tones that Simon threw back his head and laughed. ‘Do people still say that?’

‘One of my boyfriends did. That’s why he’s an ex.’

‘Milk and sugar?’

‘Just milk, please.’

‘Speaking of boyfriends,’ Simon pursued, ‘I hope this invitation hasn’t ruffled any male feathers?’

‘Nary a one. I’ve gone off men for the moment.’

‘Any particular reason?’

‘The last two have been nerds.’

‘Oh? In what way?’ Simon asked interestedly.

As though wondering if she was hogging the conversation, Sojo glanced at her friend.

But, only too happy that the liking appeared to be mutual, and the pair were getting on so well, Charlotte was content to sit back and listen.

Seeing this, Sojo continued, ‘Mark, the latest, was totally boring. He had only one thing on his mind, and hands like Velcro.’

His face straight, Simon commented, ‘A very descriptive phrase. What about the previous one?’

‘He didn’t live in the real world. Mind you, with a name like Tarquin, who could blame him? Thank you…’

When she and Charlotte had both accepted a cup of tea and a plate, Simon drew the table closer so they could help themselves. Then, his tawny eyes sparkling with laughter, Simon remarked, ‘I can quite see why you’ve gone off men.’

‘Not all men.’ An inveterate flirt, she fluttered her new false eyelashes at him shamelessly.

‘I’m flattered,’ he assured her gravely. ‘Though I’d rather like to know why I’m an exception.’

‘Well, for one thing you’re obviously good for Charlotte. I’ve never seen her look so happy…’

Just for a split-second he appeared to be disconcerted, then his expression cleared, and, one eyebrow raised, he queried, ‘And?’

‘And I wondered, if I said pretty please, if you would show me round the Hall some time?’

‘I’d be delighted.’

‘Providing, of course, that you’re not too busy running the Bell-Farringdon business empire?’

So Sojo had been checking up, Charlotte thought, and hoped Simon wouldn’t mind.

But he was answering calmly, ‘From now until the wedding’s over I’m leaving Michael Forrester, my right-hand man, to deal with everything and taking a complete break.’

‘Wonder of wonders! A top businessman who’s willing to delegate.’

‘I admit to having been a workaholic in the past, but no longer. From now on I intend to work much shorter hours. I want time to relax and have fun, time to spend with my wife and family.’

Sojo gave Charlotte a speaking glance. Didn’t I tell you a man of his class would want a family to inherit things? Aloud, she remarked, ‘That sounds too good to be true.’

‘Not a bit of it. I’ve started as I mean to go on… Now, if you’ve finished your tea I’d be pleased to give you the Grand Tour. That is, if Charlotte doesn’t have any objections?’

‘Of course not,’ Charlotte said. ‘In fact I’d love to come with you.’

‘Then we’ll leave the Long Gallery until last, and I’ll point out the more interesting portraits.’

Apparently stunned by the height and grandeur of the Great Chamber, and the beauty of the house itself, Sojo followed in awed silence while Simon provided a wealth of interesting historical details.

Finally, he remarked, ‘Well, that’s about it; apart from the Long Gallery, which is on your right, you’ve seen all the rooms of any interest.’

Sounding disappointed, Sojo asked, ‘Don’t you have a haunted room?’

‘Not really.’

‘But surely you have a ghost?’ she persisted hopefully.

‘Not one you need worry about,’ he said smoothly.

‘Oh, I’m not worried. Just fascinated.’ She gave an excited wriggle. ‘There’s nothing I enjoy more than a nice spooky ghost.’

Simon laughed. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but it isn’t the kind that wanders about moaning and rattling its chains.’

‘What does it do?’ Then, aware she must have appeared flippant, she said quickly, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that like it sounded. What I meant to ask is, what kind of ghost is it? Someone who was walled up? An ancestor who died in battle?’

He shook his head. ‘Nothing so exciting, I’m afraid. If it exists at all, it’s just the spirit of a young girl…’

As they turned into the Long Gallery, he invited ironically, ‘Come and meet the ancestors.’

Gazing at the portraits in amazement, Sojo asked, ‘Do all these belong to the Farringdon family?’

‘Most of them are of the bloodline, the others are in-laws.’

As they paused in front of the portrait of a handsome, dark-haired man with a short, pointed beard, a luxuriant moustache and a rakish air, Sojo commented, ‘Now, he looks as though he could have been a bit of a lad.’

‘That’s a pretty fair assessment.’ Turning to Charlotte, Simon asked, ‘Can you guess who he is?’

‘Sir Roger Farringdon?’

‘Got it in one.’

‘Better known as the queen’s favourite,’ Charlotte added.

‘Why was that?’ Sojo asked innocently.

When Simon had explained, they strolled on while he named various people and gave brief details of their role in the family.

‘Who’s that?’ Sojo enquired, pointing to a picture of a beautiful young girl with high cheekbones and a passionate mouth. Her black hair was taken up into an elaborate chignon, and she was wearing a gold brocade evening gown and a magnificent teardrop diamond around her swan-like neck.

‘That’s Carlotta Bell-Farringdon,’ Simon answered.

‘I must say that’s some rock she’s wearing…if it’s real?’

‘Oh, yes, it’s real enough.’

As Sojo’s eyes widened, he explained, ‘The diamond was given to her by her lover, who was the descendant of a doge known as the Lion of Venice. It’s come to be called the Carlotta Stone.’

‘Did she and her lover marry?’

‘Unfortunately they weren’t able to. He already had a wife.’

‘So she died an old maid pining for him?’

‘Not at all. Shortly after the portrait was painted she married the Duke of Cessina.’

As they neared the end of the gallery, indicating three portraits by Samuel Launston, he said, ‘That’s Sophia and Joshua, my great-grandparents, and the young man next to them is Grandfather when he was twenty-one.’

‘I would have known,’ Charlotte said. ‘Other than getting older, Sir Nigel hasn’t altered all that much. He’s still a nice-looking man.’

‘Now, that’s strange…’ Leaning forward, Sojo was studying the portrait intently.

‘Strange in what way?’ Simon queried.

‘The young girl there, the delicate-looking one…she’s very like Charlotte.’

His expression impassive, Simon said nothing.

Returning her gaze to the picture, Sojo pursued, ‘She has the same-shaped eyes… And look at her ears… See what I mean? Small and neat, hardly any lobes? Just like Charlotte’s.’

She turned to Charlotte and, only half joking, asked, ‘You were adopted, weren’t you? So it’s possible you’re related to the girl in this picture in some way.’

Feeling uncomfortable, Charlotte said crisply, ‘The very idea’s ridiculous.’

Sojo sighed. ‘As I’ve said before, you have no sense of the dramatic.’

‘You’re very good at spotting a likeness.’ Simon observed admiringly.

‘A trained eye. Ever since I was able to hold a pencil I’ve sketched people. I spent a year at art school, hoping to become an artist, but it didn’t work out… So who is she?’

Glancing at Charlotte, Simon asked, ‘Who do you think she is?’

Gazing at the small, heart-shaped face, its childish beauty framed by a cloud of dark, silky hair, she ventured, ‘Mara?’

He nodded. As they moved on, turning to Sojo, he explained, ‘Grandfather had twin sisters. Mara was the younger one. She died when she was seven.’

‘And she’s your ghost?’ Sojo guessed shrewdly.

‘In a manner of speaking.’

‘Does she still haunt the place?’

‘No, I don’t believe she does. Though perhaps her spirit lingered for a while. Who knows?’

‘Sounds fascinating. Tell me more.’

‘I will over dinner tonight. I’m taking the pair of you to dance and dine at Rumplestiltskins.’

Fluttering her eyelashes at him, Sojo asked audaciously, ‘I take it there’s no chance of the car breaking down again on the way back?’

Simon looked at Charlotte.

As her cheeks grow hot and her grey eyes fell beneath that ironic gaze, he answered lightly, ‘‘Fraid not. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s never to use the same ruse twice.’

The last portrait was of a couple. A man who had an unmistakable look of Sir Nigel, and a flaxen-haired woman with tawny-green eyes whose face, rather than being merely pretty, was strong and full of character. She was wearing the ring that now graced Charlotte’s finger.

‘Your parents,’ Charlotte said to Simon with certainty.

‘Yes. As you can see, I take after my mother.’

‘I was wondering how you came to be blond,’ Sojo remarked, ‘when most of the Farringdons seem to have dark hair.’

As they left the gallery behind them, she added, ‘Well, thank you for the Grand Tour. I’ve really enjoyed it.’

‘My pleasure. Now, suppose you and Charlotte go and get your best bib and tucker on, and I’ll see you in the hall in about half an hour.’

‘It’ll have to be my second best. I’m saving my best dress for the wedding,’ Sojo teased.

‘There’s no need. Tuesday I’ll be taking the pair of you to town to shop for your wedding finery.’

‘You don’t mean…?’

‘Ring, bridal gown and veil, bridesmaid’s dress, accessories, the lot,’ Simon stated.

‘It just gets better. Have you anything lined up for tomorrow?’ Sojo asked.

‘Tomorrow we’ll need to make all the arrangements for Wednesday. Cars, catering, bridal flowers, church flowers, an organist, someone to take photographs, last minute invitations, et cetera…’

‘Can it all be put in place in such a short time?’ Charlotte wanted to know.

‘Certainly it can.’

‘Money comes in handy, I dare say,’ Sojo twinkled up at him.

‘It can be used to grease a few palms where necessary,’ he agreed, quite unruffled. ‘But your practical help will be even more useful.’

Sojo beamed with pleasure. ‘I really do love weddings! I haven’t had this much fun since my sister got married.’

The wedding morning dawned clear and bright, a golden September day, warm and welcome as a blessing. To avoid the media descending on them, they had done their best to keep the whole thing a secret. Nothing had been put in the papers, and there was to be no official photographer.

Following tradition, Simon kept out of the way while the girls—Sojo, bubbling with excitement, Charlotte a little quiet, but both conscious that things would never be quite the same again—prepared for the wedding.

When Sojo had helped Charlotte put on a deceptively simple ivory silk dress and a matching circlet that went round her dark chignon and held her short veil in place, she stood back to admire her handiwork.

‘Well, all I can say is, Simon’s a very lucky man.’

With a grin, she added, ‘Discreet too. Though I’m right next door at nights I’ve never heard so much as a latch click.’

‘There’s been nothing to hear,’ Charlotte said.

‘You went to his room?’ the other girl asked.

‘We both stayed put.’

‘Your choice?’

Charlotte shook her head. It hadn’t been her choice. If Simon had lifted a finger, she would have gone running. But since the wedding arrangements had been made he had barely touched her, let alone kissed her. Although he had laughed and joked with Sojo, he had treated her with a kind of distant courteousness that was somehow chilling.

A tap at the door interrupted her thoughts.

It was Mrs Reynolds bringing two Cellophane boxes containing the flowers, and a message asking if Charlotte could spare a moment to see Sir Nigel.

‘Of course,’ Charlotte agreed, and hastened along the corridor, her skirts sweeping the floorboards.

Having refused any medication that might make him sleepy, and sent his nurse packing until he called for her, Sir Nigel was already dressed and seated in a wheelchair, a cream carnation in his buttonhole.

He studied Charlotte for a moment, then, his eyes growing misty, he said, ‘In true Bell-Farringdon tradition, you make a beautiful bride.’

She smiled at him shakily. ‘Thank you, Sir Nigel.’

‘No more of that Sir Nigel stuff. From now on I’d like you to call me Grandfather. Go on, let me hear you say it.’

‘Thank you, Grandfather.’

He smiled at her. ‘That’s my girl. It’s going to be a great day. My only regret is that Simon’s sister can’t be here.’

‘I was very sorry to hear about Lucy’s accident,’ Charlotte said sincerely. ‘It must have been a big worry for you all.’

‘Thank you, my dear. It has been pretty grim.’

‘How did it happen?’ she asked.

‘She and her husband had just left the hotel they’d been dining at, when their car clipped another one, went off the road and rolled down an embankment. It was towards the end of March and bitterly cold. There was black ice… Luckily the driver of the other car was uninjured.’

‘Was her husband…?’

‘He got off practically scot-free, just cuts and bruises—’ there was bitterness in the old man’s voice ‘—whereas Lucy suffered severe internal and spinal injuries. Not only did she lose her baby, but also the hope of having any more.’

Shocked, Charlotte breathed, ‘How awful for her.’

‘Would you like a family?’ he wanted to know.

‘Yes, I would.’

He smiled. ‘I’m delighted. It means the Bell-Farringdon bloodline will go on.’

‘That’s important to you,’ Charlotte realised.

Though it was a statement not a question, he answered, ‘Yes, my dear, it is. Very important.’

‘I’m truly sorry about Lucy…’

‘It was a blow to us all,’ he admitted. ‘With losing their parents so young, Simon and his sister have always been very close. He’d do anything to make her happy. When she fell in love with a man we both thought was worthless and unprincipled, Simon tried hard to talk her out of marrying him. But she was quite determined, and in the end they ran off and got married at a register office. After that we had no choice but to make the best of it for Lucy’s sake…’

Charlotte had just decided Sir Nigel wasn’t going to say any more when, frowning a little, he went on, ‘When they’d been married a few months, she said he was getting restless and asked Simon to give him a job. Rather than see him live off Lucy’s money, Simon agreed, and, never a man to do things by halves, put him in a position of trust. I believe he’s regretted it since. By the way, he mentioned that you would have asked Lucy to be one of your attendants. It was very thoughtful of you, and I’m quite sure that she and Miss Macfadyen would have got on well.’

Catching Charlotte’s look of surprise, he added, ‘I like your friend. She shares the same kind of spirited, yet down-to-earth, approach to life that Lucy has…’ His face clouding, he added, ‘Or had before the accident.’

Then, perking up, ‘But the latest news is good. The doctors believe there’s a fair chance she’ll be out of bed and starting to walk again by the new year, so we have a lot to be thankful for. Now, my dear, time’s getting short, and, as it’s supposed to be unlucky for the groom to see the bride before they get to church, I thought you might allow me to put this on.’

He held up the Carlotta Stone.

She went down on her knees by his chair and, after a brief struggle, he fastened the chain around her neck and slipped home the safety catch.

‘There!’ he said with satisfaction. ‘It looks well on you.’

Touching it, she began, ‘I’ll take great care of it and return it as soon as—’

‘I don’t want it back,’ he said firmly. ‘I want you to keep it.’

‘Oh, b-but I couldn’t possibly,’ she stammered. ‘I insist.’

‘Shouldn’t Lucy—?’

‘Apart from the fact that Lucy is a rich woman in her own right, she has her mother’s jewels,’ Sir Nigel said.

‘But what will Simon say?’

‘I’ve already discussed it with him and he agrees that you should have it.’

She made another attempt. ‘But apart from the fact that it must be priceless, it’s a family heirloom. Suppose something happened—?’

Shaking his head, he broke in decidedly, ‘Whatever happens, my dear, the Carlotta Stone is yours to keep, and Simon fully approves. Now, off you go, and I’ll see you downstairs as soon as they’ve finished putting the chairlift in place.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

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