Page 1 of The Diamond's Absolutely Delicious Downfall

London, 1789

“Idiots. They’re all idiots!” Estella Dover exclaimed in perfectly plummy tones. Tones she’d learned for the stage and which were nothing like the sounds that had surrounded her, her sister, or her mother as a child.

But they’d all learned. After all, none of them had been satisfied to be orange sellers or the girls who plied other trades to the audience.

No, they had clawed their way out of the mire of the East End and left its rough accent behind.

So that Lady Juliet could be born…and become a diamond. She was deeply grateful to her grandmother, her aunt, and of course her dearest mama for sacrificing so much and for grasping hold of their dreams with unrelenting fists.

Juliet’s aunt, the grand lady of the theater, sat before her mirror in the theater dressing room. Costumes festooned the racks, carefully hung by her dresser.

“I absolutely refuse to do Lear with a happy ending!” Estella proclaimed with a dramatic swirl of her wrist before she plucked up a rag, turned, and eyed her made-up face in the candlelit mirror, assessing it for age and imperfection.

Juliet adored her aunt.

There was no other word for it. She was eccentric, marvelous, full of life, and took no nonsense from anyone. Oh, how she wished she could be exactly like Estella, but she could not.

After all, Juliet was Lady Juliette Briarwood, sister of the Duke of Westleigh, and the fact that she was sitting in a dressing room in Drury Lane would’ve been a scandal in and of itself except for the fact that she had come in disguise and had sneaked through the back of the establishment.

A hackney had brought her across town.

She had only been able to venture here because her mother was out for the evening, visiting with friends and playing cards at Devonshire House.

Usually, Juliet was at a ball dancing from the set of the sun to the rise of it. But tonight, she had proclaimed a headache and stayed home because, quite frankly, she needed a night off.

A night off from revelry seemed like a ridiculous and rather privileged thing, but sometimes a good time was too much. And then there was the added issue that she needed her aunt’s practical advice and a laugh—a good laugh. For though she dearly loved her family, they had largely left any trace of her mother’s past behind them and were fully invested in the ton.

Save for the eccentricities, of course.

After weeks of preening and posing, she needed a breath of fresh air like Estella.

“What ever shall you say, Aunt?” Juliet asked. She too had read King Lear from the First Folio, and she loathed the adapted version, which was the only one currently performed. “Goneril is a marvelous role.”

Her aunt could no longer play Cordelia, and she was rather glad. The meatier roles were better anyway.

Estella rolled her eyes and gestured to her dresser, Nell, who was currently taking care of one of her wigs. Estella had at least twenty wigs. All of them were various shades of color. All of them were various lengths and curls.

Estella twisted in her chair and began efficiently wiping off her stage paint.

“Goneril is a magnificent role,” she mused. “You are absolutely correct, pet, but if you take the teeth out of the whole play, and Lear lives, and Cordelia lives?” She gave a dramatic shudder, her chemise trembling on her pale shoulders. “It is ridiculous. What is the point of it?”

She hated it too, but she decided to supply, “That good triumphs over evil?”

It certainly was a milquetoast rendition of a complex warning regarding the foolishness of men and power. But audiences these days didn’t seem particularly interested in such philosophizing.

“Ha!” Estella returned. “That is not the point of a tragedy, my dear. A tragedy is to shake one, to bring one to life, to show them the meaning of life, to show them what being a fool means. Lear is a fool, and he’s terrible to his daughters. Anyone who doesn’t think so hasn’t read the play. He absolutely deserves being tossed out of every single house and left in that storm.”

Juliet laughed. Her aunt always said exactly what she thought. Well, at least to certain people.

“Now, my dear,” her aunt said. She turned and held out her hands, the paste jewels winking upon them. Tonight, she had been magnificent as Titania, the fairy queen from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

The audience had hung on her every word.

Her aunt tilted her head to the side, her blonde curls tumbling against her slender neck. “What is it that you need from me? I know you are not supposed to be here. I should send a message to your mother at once to tell her of your terrible behavior, but I won’t. I like you too well to risk your untimely end.”

Juliet let out a laugh. She’d never once doubted her aunt’s discretion. The truth was she’d always felt a particular affinity for Estella. Oh, she loved her mother dearly and wanted to make her mother proud. It was why she strove every night for a duke to propose to her. She was determined that all the ton know how wonderful her mother was, how marvelous, and that her mother could catch a duke for her daughter, even though her mother had not been born a lady.

Still, Juliet found that in her heart of hearts, the ton rankled.

She could put herself to the bit just like a horse to the bridle. She was good at it. Everyone liked her. She was the diamond of the season, but inside she felt as if she was chafing at her bonds, at her laces.

Juliet bit the inside of her cheek, feeling terribly ungrateful and rather distressed before she rushed, “I need to find a duke and to do it quickly. I like the ton well enough. I like the excitement of balls, but I’m getting rather tired of being the diamond.”

“Oh, how terribly difficult for you, my dear,” her aunt mocked gently, her eyes dancing.

Juliet groaned. “Yes, I know. My life is marvelous. I won’t deny it—”

“But you want a little bit more excitement in it, don’t you?” Estella cut in as though she was not surprised. “You’re getting tired of playing by all the rules. Of course you are, my dear! You are Sylvia’s daughter. How could you not?” A fond and admiring smile tilted her lips. “Your mother broke every rule and got herself a duke. Why don’t you try doing the same, Juliet?”

She huffed out a breath and lamented, “I can’t, Aunt Estella. You know that if I do that, I shall be the talk of the ton, and Mama shall be proclaimed—”

“Do not be so concerned with what your mother is proclaimed,” Estella said firmly. “She can handle it.”

“But I cannot,” Juliet said, the anguish over her conundrum twisting her insides.

Estella’s face gentled. “Then why are you here, my dear? For advice that you don’t want to hear?”

She let out a groan. “I want to know how I am to bear this. I have had five proposals, all of them good. Two from a viscount, two from an earl, and one from a marquess. There was a very wealthy baron who was also interested.”

Dear heaven! She knew how spoiled she must sound, and yet she was struggling. Each day, she felt the weight of it more intensely. “They’re all good men, but I want the coronet of a duke. I want to show the ton that Mama is the greatest of mamas. And I want to grind anyone who has turned their nose up at Mama with my title.”

“Oh, my dear,” Estella sighed. “Your mother already knows she’s the greatest of mamas.”

Well, perhaps she did know, but Juliet wanted no one to be able to argue with it. She was tired of the looks that her mother sometimes received from the grand dames of the ton, who whispered behind their fans that her mother was a scandal. An actress.

And once, Juliet had heard a lady hiss, “A jumped-up whore.”

She’d never forgotten the sick, hot feeling that had coursed through her at the cruel words about her mother.

Perhaps her mother was a scandal, but she was better than all the ton ladies combined.

And if Juliet could achieve a great marriage, then no one would ever be able to say a thing about her mother again, and she would solidify her position in society. As a duchess, she could rule and make sure that anyone who said a negative word about her mother was crushed.

That’s what she wanted more than anything.

She loved her mother dearly. Her mother had raised her with such care, such kindness, and had always encouraged her to be herself. She’d done thus for all her children.

Now, Juliet was willing to do whatever it took to reward her mother.

“My dear,” Estella began wisely, “you are the daughter of an actress. You are the niece of an actress. You are the granddaughter of an actress. Play the part, and that should be more than enough. Have you forgotten? The ton is a stage just like anything else. Choose to be the ruler of it all, and nothing shall bother you again. Put on your mask, and all will be well.”

Juliet swallowed and drew in a deep breath, realizing that was indeed what she needed to hear. Even if the idea of having to pretend to be someone else felt wrong. “You are right. Of course.”

Estella laughed, her head tilting back. “Of course I’m right, my dear.”

“Come, Nell,” Estella beckoned to her dresser. “I would like my gown now. It’s getting quite chilly, and besides, Lord Ruthford is waiting for me, and I cannot wait to join him this evening.”

Juliet grinned.

Her aunt changed lovers every few weeks like some people changed clothes. She loved infinite variety and infinite entertainment.

“I shall not keep you then, Aunt,” Juliet replied.

Estella gave her a sheepish look as if she did not quite wish to admit how much she was enjoying her time with her current lover. “Is that enough advice for you at present?”

She squeezed her aunt’s hand. “Actually, it’s quite good advice. I think I’ve forgotten that the ton is just a game.”

Her aunt stood and twirled in her chemise before striding to Nell, who held a beautifully made crimson gown.

“Oh, life is a game, my dear,” Estella said as Nell helped her into her clothes. “Do not forget what Mr. Shakespeare said. All the world’s a stage and all the people upon it merely players.”

Her aunt plumped up her bosom as Nell laced her in. Estella winked. “If you live your life by that maxim, all shall go well. If you try too earnestly to struggle against that, you’ll be miserable.”

Juliet nodded, even as her throat tightened. She tried so hard to seem merry, and yet it felt as if a noose was closing in around her with all the rules and demands of the ton.

“You have been miserable, haven’t you?” Estella ventured, holding out her hands to her.

She stood and rushed into Estella’s embrace, swallowed up in the scent of roses. She dared to confess as she could not bear to do to her mother, for her mother did so much for her. “Indeed I have. I show the face of someone who is overjoyed—”

Juliet’s voice broke off and she couldn’t put her feelings into words.

“But inside, my dear,” her aunt said gently. “If you keep it in, you’ll never get your duke because whether you know it or not, with such misery inside you, that is what you will attract. Attract joy instead, my love. Find joy in what you have and all shall be well.”

Juliet nodded against her aunt’s shoulder. “I shall try.”

Estella pulled back, then pressed a kiss to Juliet’s forehead.

Juliet gazed upon the magnificent face of the woman she admired and loved so well. “I must go, but thank you for this.”

“Life is to be lived, my dear,” Estella said with a final squeeze of her hands. “Have a little fun.”

With that, Juliet slipped out of the dressing room into the dark hall and drew in a breath. Most of the actors had already headed out to the local inns. And the stage hands were busy backstage, readying the sets for the next day.

She drank in the silence and closed her eyes. She had to take her aunt’s advice.

It was the only thing to do.

She tugged up the full hood of her cloak and strode through the dark hall. Guttering candles cast a yellow glow into the shadows.

How she loved the theater! She had been visiting her aunt for years, sneaking off as often as she could, getting into a hackney coach and sometimes convincing her lady’s maid to take her. But tonight, she’d come alone.

Tonight, she’d needed a bolstering spirit to give her courage to face the rest of the Season. Her sister had married recently, a good match, a surprising match. But it had also been surrounded in scandal.

Perhaps scandal was simply in her family’s blood. But if she put on a mask as her aunt suggested, she could survive the Season.

But somehow, she had to find the fun.

Juliet turned the corner and just as she was about to head down the stairs to the back of the theater, she caught sight of a gentleman striding towards her.

He spotted her, stopped, cocked his head to the side, and his lips began to curve into a slow smile.

Her heart skipped a beat.

It was wolfish, that smile. His lips were full and sensual as if he was imagining eating her up.

He was not like any gentleman she’d ever met, yet it was clear he was a gentleman, judging by the expense of his clothes. His coat was a navy blue, the buttons gold. His cravat was a snowy white. His dark hair was long, thick, and wild. It brushed his shoulders.

And his eyes glinted a fiery blue in the shadows.

He was a massive fellow, with a Corinthian build.

“Hello,” he rumbled. “Whatever are you doing alone? A lady as beautiful as you?”

She was alone in a dark hall with…him. A wolf.

For a moment, she felt a hint danger.

Oh, she wasn’t afraid. This was a different sort of danger.

This was the sort of danger that said to her that if she was not careful, she would find herself pressed up against the wall and kissed.

Kissed until she could not speak, not think, not do anything but surrender.

He was sensual from the top of his head to the tips of his polished boots.

And suddenly, she wanted such an adventure—to be pressed up against the wall by such a man. And to have a bit of fun.