Page 18 of The Diamond's Absolutely Delicious Downfall

They watched the play in total silence.

It was one of the hardest things Tobias had ever done, and he had done many hard things. They stood watching sets painted in beautiful hues and depicting various scenes fly in from above.

Crews worked the ropes, lowering and lifting magnificently painted walls on canvas. The actors transported their audiences, but he could not be transported, himself. It was the first time in his entire life that going to the theater had not allowed him to be stolen away from the difficulties of his life, and it was because he could feel Juliet standing beside him, suffering.

And he was suffering too. They did not look at each other. They did not say anything. He desperately wanted to reach out to her. He wanted her to reach out to him. And yet neither of them seemed able to move.

Neither of them seemed to be able to take each other’s hand.

The die had been cast, the line drawn. It was always going to come to this. Of course it was. It always had to. They had to part, and while he had hoped they would part easily, it was the way of things that people parted cruelly, brutally, and with angry words.

He had lived a much larger life than she had. He should have known that parting would be difficult. He had watched men die, tried to hold their guts in, smelled saltpeter in the air, watched houses and churches burn, laid low by the English.

He’d seen whole armies taken prisoner, and he’d crossed the Atlantic, come to this country, and been completely cut off by his parents. He had tried to listen, to anticipate the difficulties that were coming. He sent letters to President Washington, telling him how he thought the English were handling the current crisis with their king and things in France.

He was no spy.

It was a job he did not want. He wanted to be a man of honor, but it was easy to write those letters here with her giving him joy. After all, he felt as if he was helping to keep the peace.

Now, he feared everything would be hard.

They did not speak when the play concluded or as they passed Estella’s dressing room.

The grand actress watched them go quietly, standing in the glow of her doorway. She knew, perhaps, that she had thrown chaos into their relationship, but she did not try to stop them.

It was wise of her because nothing could stop them.

Not now.

They returned quietly to their coach and traveled to Heron House in more silence. They crossed up the steps of her house and into the foyer quietly too. They made their way upstairs and said nothing to each other as they parted ways. He went to his chamber and she to hers. It was the cruelest moment of his life.

He never would’ve thought it was possible, but this was worse in many ways than anything he’d ever known. For the first time in his life, he had felt truly open to someone. Yes, she was a few years younger than he. Yes, she had not lived through the uncertainties and dangers of life that he had, but that had been part of why he, oh, dear God, why he loved her so well.

He was never supposed to love her.

He was merely to enjoy her. But the truth was he did love her. He loved everything about her, from the way she was a diamond, to the way she loved her family, to the way she thought.

From her perspective, she had to sacrifice everything for her mother and her sisters. In that way, she was practical about things. He loved how she loved Shakespeare and plays, how she clearly wished she was in the theater rather than the ton.

But she couldn’t see it.

The night stretched on in interminable silence.

He kept waiting to hear her footsteps outside his door, but they never came. He laid on his bed staring at the ceiling. He should simply leave, go into the night, and never come back. Perhaps he should return to America, but he’d made a promise to her brother, and he had several more pamphlets to print and distribute. He could not leave until he’d done so.

He would have to dwell here with her, wondering what was next, waiting for her to leave him entirely and choose a life of duty without passion.

When dawn finally came, he shoved himself out of bed, put on fresh clothes, splashed his face with freezing water, and headed downstairs in search of a cup of coffee. It would be the only way he would get through the day, and just as he was about to head into the breakfast room, he was stopped by a cacophony in the foyer.

Had the duke and his mother returned? It would be a relief if they had. If so, he could turn it all over to them, tell them none of their plans had worked and that they should not meddle with people’s lives anymore.

He never should have let them meddle.

He never should have listened to any of her brothers.

He should never have…

Tobias grimaced.

He was not usually a man for shoulds, and he would not start this morning. The voices filled the hallway, and he paused, for he knew one of those voices. He whipped around and charged down the hallway towards the foyer.

He crossed over the marble and spotted the butler, who stood speaking to a young woman with wild hair.

“You’re whom?” the butler demanded.

“I am Miss Mercy Miller. My brother is staying here. I wish to be admitted.”

The butler cleared his throat, slightly ruffled. “Of course, Miss Miller. Just a moment.”

“Mercy!” Tobias called.

His sister whirled to him, her dark hair tumbling down her shoulders, wild about her face. Her eyes were wide. Her cloak flowed about her, mud-stained at the hem. She looked harried, as if she had ridden hell for leather. He’d only ever seen that look on her face once before—she was quite small and she had ridden in from their house in New York when it had been taken over by the English.

She’d found him camped outside the battlefields. She’d been desperate to be taken care of, desperate to be told that everything would work out.

“What is it, Mercy?” he rushed, reaching for her.

She crossed to him, her eyes wide with relief as she took his hands. “You need to come home. You need to come back to New York immediately. Someone is trying to take the company from me, and I cannot convince them that you have left it to me.” A strange look crossed her face. “He will not take no for an answer.”

“Who the bloody hell would do that?” he growled.

“George Perkins,” she stated.

“Good God,” he hissed. “George Perkins is a fool and a sick little man. How dare he try to take over—”

“Tobias,” she whispered, “he’s trying to make me marry him so that he will be able to take over the company.”

He stilled, taking in his sister’s words.

George Perkins owned his own publishing house, printing out newspapers. But his papers were scurrilous rags, dragging everyone down and seemingly rooting for all to fail.

“You are not going to have to marry him, I promise you that,” he assured, squeezing her hands. “And of course I’ll return. I don’t need to be here any longer.”

She frowned. “But I thought Mr. Adams and Mr. Washington were hoping that you would stay here to—”

“You are far more important,” he cut in, pulling her into his arms.

She sagged against him, her tension easing as she clearly felt safe at last. “I don’t want to be a cause of distress for you, but I could no longer stay. He was making my life very difficult. Since there was no one else to turn to, the only thing I could do was either murder him or come here.”

He laughed at his sister’s attempt at humor. “I would hate to see you in the gaol. So I’m quite glad that you came here instead. Did you close the printing shop?”

She nodded against his shoulder. “And I hired Temple Wilkinson to make sure that no one got inside. He and his roughs are, no doubt, doing a good job.”

There were several men who, after the revolution, needed work, and they were good at providing strong arms. “I’m glad to hear it. We shall sort this out. Don’t worry overly.”

“Of course I worry,” she insisted before slowly pulling back, then blinking as she seemed to at last truly take in her surroundings. “Why are you staying in a duke’s house? I thought you loathed such things.”

“I do, of course. But these people are a little bit different.”

“How could they possibly be different?” she scoffed.

“Because we are the Briarwoods,” a voice called from the stairs.

Mercy turned towards that voice. “And who are you?”

“My name is Lady Juliet, and I assume you are Tobias’s sister.” Juliet smiled. “Welcome.”

Mercy’s brows rose ever so slightly. “Tobias, is it?” But then she nodded. “Yes, I am his sister. You are his friend?”

Juliet swallowed, her smile fading. “I-I don’t know.”

“Are you often confused?” Mercy asked, taken aback by the reply.

A sad look creased Juliet’s wan face. Shadows touched the hollows beneath her eyes. She looked as if she not slept and had cried a great deal. “Only in this.”

He wanted to stride toward her, pull her into his arms, and tell her she never had to be confused again.

But in this? Her grandmother was mistaken. He could not take what he wanted. If he did, Juliet would never truly be his. No, her love would be a stolen thing. Not freely given.

“I quite admire you, Mercy,” Juliet said as she came down the stairs.

Mercy frowned and smoothed her hands over her simple, travel-creased gown. “How can you admire me? We’ve never met.”

Juliet gave Mercy a kind smile. “Your brother. He sang your praises and said that you run a company. Quite well.”

Mercy’s gaze darkened. “Alas, I don’t. Or at least I don’t right now. Things are quite difficult in New York at the moment.”

A look of genuine sympathy softened Juliet’s face. “I’m so sorry to hear it.”

Mercy nodded her thanks. “It’ll all be sorted once he returns home.”

“Returns?” Juliet gasped.

He met her gaze, feeling as if his whole world was vanishing around him, despite the fact that he was standing in one of the most elaborate foyers in all of England. “Mercy has asked me to go back with her, and, of course, I will.”

Juliet sucked in a sharp breath. “But—”

“You don’t need me anymore,” he said softly, his voice dropping to a mere shadow. “It’s time for me to go home. I don’t care for the ton. And President Washington can always find another American to observe the ballrooms of London.” He paused, his chest heavy. “And I think you’ve already made your decision.”

She raised her chin even as her eyes shone with more tears. “Yes, I suppose I have.”

Mercy swung her gaze back and forth between them. “Whatever is—”

“Lady Juliet is to be married,” he said flatly.

Mercy frowned at the tone of her brother’s voice, clearly sensing his dismay, but then she turned to Juliet. “I suppose I must offer my congratulations then. Is it soon?”

Juliet winced. “I don’t know exactly.”

Mercy laughed but then grew serious when Juliet did not join her. She coughed. “How can you not know?”

Juliet folded her hands before her perfectly pressed, soft pink gown. “I haven’t decided who I’ll marry.”

“But you are getting married?” Mercy clarified.

Juliet tensed. “I’ve had several offers.”

Mercy looked at Juliet as if she was mad. “How fortunate for you. But who are you in love with?”

“None of them,” Tobias said softly, unable to stop himself.

Mercy’s eyes rounded before she managed politely, “How very practical of you. Now, we must speak, Tobias, and make arrangements to return immediately.”

He nodded. “Of course. I have a few things that I must do for the duke, and then we shall go.”

Juliet gazed upon him with wounded eyes, but she did not relent.

At her silence, he knew his sister’s arrival was perfect timing.

For he would not be able to bear watching Juliet throw her happiness away.