Page 10 of The Diamond's Absolutely Delicious Downfall

Juliet was grateful that her mama was not forcing her to read from the play Romeo and Juliet this late afternoon. She was quite good at the potion scene in which Juliet decides to take the liquid given to her by Friar Lawrence. But it was a grim scene.

She was also quite good at the scene where Juliet is awaiting the nurse’s return, which was a far more romantic scene. Still, she truly did not wish to do anything from the play before Tobias Miller.

After all, it was a tragedy and. frankly, tragedies had their place. This afternoon was not a place for it. The American in the drawing room was nothing like the man who had been here not long before to woo her sister, Hermia.

No, that man, the Earl of Drexel, had intended on marrying Hermia and had come with the explicit intent to win the family over and find his place in it. He’d done a marvelous reading at the duchess’s request.

The American was not here for her at all, or at least that’s what she told herself. He had accepted her brother’s invitation, and it was pure coincidence that they were all here together now. But it felt like such a strange twist of fate that they should be in this room—this beautiful, glorious drawing room that her mother had created years ago—where people could come together and show their talents to the world.

Of course, guests often felt put on the spot at first because, well, her mama would clap her hands and then instruct them to stand and do whatever it was they did best.

Juliet was an excellent actress. They had been putting on theatricals in the house since they were children. Mama was ever the directress, telling them where to go, what to do, what the characters were thinking, what they were hoping for.

She adored it! She always had, and a small secret part of her had often wished that she could go in disguise to that vital part of town where the most exclusive theaters stood and take up a role and join her Aunt Estella on the stage.

But something like that would never occur.

The life of an actress would not mesh with the life of a lady. After all, ladies never acted in public. It was why there had been private court performances for so many years. She could at least take comfort in the fact that she could do recitations here in the drawing room whenever she wished.

And so she stood in the sunlight in the center of the room, ready to sing for her supper as her mother required.

She chose Hamlet.

It was a specific choice, and she chose the actual role of Hamlet, not Ophelia. Which was quite radical, she knew. But what kind of Briarwood would she be if she wasn’t radical?

She quite liked the character Ophelia. It was an interesting part, but she did not feel like running mad today or being the victim of a man. No. She wanted to have the power of a man, a man who contemplated the great thoughts and philosophies of life.

And so as she began the vital monologue about man and his nature in comparison to angels, how he was so perfect in so many ways, so horrific in so many others, and how in the end, Hamlet could not find joy in humanity, she felt herself transported.

She let it flow from her.

She let all her indecisions, all her conflict, all her confusion about her life fill her up and pour out of her. After all, she did feel indecisive at present. She was going to have to choose a lord to marry. And soon. Having five gentlemen waiting to hear her answer was rather rude of her. And unkind. She could not do that to them. For she was many things, but unkind was not one of them. Or so she hoped.

And though it disappointed her, it did seem as if no duke was going to show himself on the horizon, unless, of course, she started willing people to die. And that seemed like a rather cruel thing to do.

Just as she came to the end of the monologue, she caught sight of Tobias. She wanted him. There was no question about it. He had held his own in her family so far, and he had held his own with her.

Dear God, how he had! She’d loved every moment of it. The way he talked with her, the way he held her to account, the way he stood up to her brothers. She loved it. She admired him. She liked so much about the way he saw the world, and yet there was a certain coldness about him. For all his grand passion. He rumbled. He growled. He took passion in his hands. He’d kissed her, and he’d dared to come to this house, knowing that their passion would continue to crackle under the watchful eyes of her family.

And yet there was something there, some barrier around him, which did not allow him to give himself entirely over to his feelings.

It was likely a good thing.

She rather feared what would happen if Tobias gave himself entirely over to feeling. He would no doubt be like a tidal wave. One of the great ocean forces she’d read about that took over an entire landscape, sweeping up all in its path.

She did not wish to be there if that happened, or at least so her brain told her heart. On the other hand, her heart seemed to love the very idea. Stupid, absurd heart!

Her mother began to applaud at the completion of Juliet’s performance of Hamlet’s monologue. “Well done, my dear. Well done, exploring the nuances of Hamlet’s grief.”

She gave a quick curtsy. “Thank you, Mama.”

Her mother turned her eyes upon Tobias. “And now it is time for our American friend. Shall you play? Perhaps you sing? Do you recite Shakespeare?”

He lifted a hand and smiled. “I do all of those things. But—”

“Shall I choose a work for you?” her mother rushed, heading towards the shelf of books that the duchess loved to pull volumes down from and ambush guests with.

“No,” he said, quickly, boldly. “I have something in mind. Something I think you all shall appreciate.”

Her brothers all stood in the corner like a pack of animals ready to either embrace or devour the American. It was interesting how they had behaved with him this afternoon, as if they were ready to envelop him into the fold, and yet there had been a certain wariness too. As if at any moment, they might turn on him and tear him limb from limb.

Perhaps that was still the case, but they all seemed to hang on the American’s every word. Perhaps it was that her brothers also admired the American because he was not a man of silliness or fluff.

No one could make the argument that Tobias Miller was shallow or uninteresting. The man had bled, he had been in battle, and he had given up everything for his ideals. He had risked it all for the sake of an idea, which was something that most people were not willing to do.

Tobias came to her in the center of the room. “May I take your place?” he asked.

“You can try,” she teased.

He winked at her then, and she nearly gasped at how it made her feel.

She was surprised by the boldness of his gesture, but he was bold in general. His entire presence filled up the room unapologetically.

And Westleigh, another unapologetic soul, watched them while sitting like a king, seemingly languid yet crackling with tension, as if at any moment he could either give Tobias a great reward or condemn him to death.

Dukes could not condemn people to death now, but they certainly could make their lives very difficult. Yet Tobias did not seem to care. Perhaps it was because he was an American, or perhaps it was because he was so entirely self-possessed.

He was a man who was unshakeable in the face of a powerful, entitled lineage.

It was a power she’d never seen before, and it was one she felt might be the greatest of all.

Tobias took up his stance and held the silence for a long moment, unafraid to keep that silence as so many were. For many could not be still in a moment of quiet. No, they had to fill it up with fidgeting and apologies.

She felt her skin tingle, her heart quicken, and her stomach tighten. He was a remarkable individual.

“I speak to you not of kings, not of peasants,” he began, his voice deep and commanding. “But of ideas. I speak on the equality of ideas, ideas which come to both women and men, people of all places. We are united in one truth, that we were created as equal upon this earth to roam it, to glory in it, to fulfill our destinies, to be the very best that we can be. And yet here, from the time that we are small, we are forced into competition with each other, to cut each other down, to better ourselves at the cost of others, to drive each other to the brink.”

He paused for a moment, allowing his gaze to travel about the room before he continued, “It is what makes the cruelty of this life, the hardship, the bloodshed. And yet I do feel that we could be so much more. We humans, we people of the world. Surely, there is a utopia waiting. Surely, if we could but leave all of that fear behind and understand that in our sister, in our brother, in the people about us, there is a resonance, a glory, a beauty, and that working together will always be greater than tearing each other down, we could see the truth. If we could but seize that truth, then all this strife, all this death, all this pain could be but a memory, and we would find ourselves like the angels.”

Juliet’s breath caught in her throat at the wonder of the statements she’d never heard before. She knew it was not any of the great Greek or Roman philosophers, for she had read them all. And the last line was a definite nod to Hamlet, to the very monologue she had performed.

She and her siblings were all familiar with the great works of old.

Her father’s obsession with Greek philosophy had ensured that every single one of them had read all of the most important tomes. Once they’d completed the Greeks, they’d moved on to Romans, for the Romans had built all of their work upon the Greeks.

Each of the Briarwoods all knew stoicism quite well, and Epicureanism and Hedonism. This tenet that Tobias had spoken was not from any of them.

Her mother stood and applauded. She frowned as she tried to identify the author. “Who spoke this? I must know! We have not read it. And yet it is remarkable. It does not seem to come from any of the great philosophers in France or any of your writers in America. It’s certainly not Dr. Franklin, Mr. Adams, or Mr. Hamilton.”

“No,” Tobias agreed simply. “It is not.”

“Then who is it?” the duke commanded.

He gave a strange, proud smile. “My sister.”

The duke blinked. “Your sister wrote that?”

Tobias informed, “She’s an idealist.”

“Then why did you not bring her here so that she could meet some of the like-minded individuals who have no doubt inspired her?”

Tobias grinned then. “Because she is at home running our business.”

Juliet gaped. “She’s doing what?”

“She’s running our business,” Tobias repeated.

And in that moment, she realized that there was a world out there that she’d known in theory existed, but now it was real to her.

Tobias Miller stood in her house talking about owning a business with his sister. A sister who spoke of the glory of humanity just as Shakespeare had done.

Suddenly, she wished to meet his sister very much indeed. And she’d ask her… Was it worth it? Was the independence and ability to manage a business worth leaving behind all of what society expected her to be?

And for a single moment, her heart dared to hope that there was a life outside the ton and England…and all her plans.