Page 8 of The Diamond's Absolutely Delicious Downfall

“Why are you here?” Lady Juliet demanded insatiably curious as they headed out through the house in the wake of the duchess’s footsteps. After all, he was a revolutionary visiting a duke! It seemed very odd.

The duchess had turned in full sail and made a grand march to address whatever was unfolding upon her lawn.

They had followed.

He was not accustomed to following. He’d lead charges, companies, and political movements.

But with the Briarwoods? Following, before being swept up, seemed an excellent decision.

“I’m here at your brother’s invitation,” Tobias returned, though that was only a small part of why he had decided to come to Heron House. “He offers me the chance to do a bit of good.”

And his decision was reaping rewards. He loved her nature—how she was not demure or waffling under his presence.

Some young ladies would have wilted, but not her. She had risen to the occasion of his arrival. And clearly, she had not confessed what they had done.

It was most interesting, for clearly her mama did not know that they had kissed or that there was a history between them, which suggested to him that Juliet was interested in keeping more secrets.

He would do nothing untoward, of course, but if she wished to dance that dance with him, he would be more than happy to oblige.

She folded her hands behind her back and cleared her throat, “You could have declined.”

They traced their way out of the house and onto a covered balustrade which overlooked a sprawling garden spilling down to the Thames.

“I could have,” he agreed, “but your brother and I are going to change the world, don’t you know?”

She pinned him with a withering glance. “Surely you could change it from a distance.”

He turned his own gaze upon her, and before they could step out from the portico and into the sun, he pulled her against one of the tall, broad columns.

Driven by impulse and lust, he threw all reason aside.

Well, not all, for they were still hidden from view.

He let his hand linger at her waist, aching to do more. Aching to take her in his arms and finish what they started.

“But where would be the fun in that?” he asked.

Her eyes flared at his words.

Her head tilted back, and instead of pulling away, she arched her body towards his.

“This is going to be very dangerous,” she murmured.

He’d been addicted to danger once upon a time. War did that to a man. He’d craved it. He’d thought he’d left all that behind. But with her? It all flooded back. “Yes, it is, but you like danger. Don’t you, Lady Juliet?”

She let out a low laugh. “I didn’t think so,” she replied. “I thought I was the most sensible of the lot, but it seems perhaps I do have a penchant for it.”

He lowered his head. “Then let’s indulge your taste for it.”

“My brothers,” she whispered, even as she tilted her face upward.

“Oh, I’ve faced worse things than a few angry brothers,” he assured, tracing his free hand over her cheek, loving the way her face fit so perfectly into his palm.

She licked her lips. “Have you indeed?”

“Yes,” he growled, teasing her lower lip with his thumb. “The entire British army. I don’t think your brothers can be worse.”

She arched a brow at that, then whispered against his thumb, “You’d be surprised, Miller.”

“Juliet!” a voice called from the garden.

Tobias tensed and turned back.

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he was going to die here at Heron House, but it might be worth it.

After all, what was there to live for anymore except for pleasure and enjoyment? He’d lost so much. Perhaps he could try to change the world a bit at a time like the duke wished…

But something deep within him could not deny that he wanted her.

Tobias let his hand slide back from her waist. “Come,” he said, “let me take you to your family.”

Her eyes were wide, her pupils dark from desire. “You have no shame.”

“Should I be ashamed?” he replied. “Are you unwilling? Am I doing something to you that you don’t want?”

She bit her lower lip as if she could bring herself back to sense by such a thing. “I cannot accuse you of that,” she said. “But surely, I should feel guilty—”

“What is the point of guilt or shame?” he demanded before he shook his head. “No, there’s simply what one does or what one doesn’t do, and who one hurts and who one doesn’t.”

He stopped himself from continuing before he could allow his own pain to slip into his voice—pain at the loss of his family, who’d lived, for the most part, here in England.

A family he could not see. He was so envious of her and her family, and he was rather surprised that she might be willing to throw it all away for pleasure, but that was her business and not his. And if he was honest, from the way her mother behaved, he rather thought there was nothing that Lady Juliet could do which would cause her family to toss her out.

And that was a powerful thing indeed.

When he led her into the garden, Tobias spotted horses all mounted by men who looked as if they should populate the temples of ancient Greece.

He supposed nothing should surprise him about the Briarwoods, but he stopped. What the bloody hell was going on?

“May I inquire as to what you’re all doing? I don’t see—”

“We’re training for war,” one of the strong men said.

“War,” he echoed, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes.

He was not interested in dandies and rakes and bucks pretending at war. It was the most frustrating experience when people thought they wanted to go into battle, when really all they wanted was to preen and to puff. He’d seen young men die on fields with their guts out. He didn’t fancy watching a bunch of young rich men parade around on their horses and clap each other on the back for imagined bravery.

“Good day to you, Mr. Miller,” the tall, dark-haired one said as he jumped down from his stallion, reins held lightly in hand. “I’m Lord Hector, but you must call me Hector.” Then he gestured to the two blond men mounted behind him on their own formidable stallions. “These are two more of your hosts, Ajax and Zephyr.”

He fought a twitch of his lips. The names were absurd, but the whole family was. It was what made them interesting.

“And what are you doing on horseback?” he asked, doing his best not to sound mocking. “Practicing for a parade?”

Hector smiled slowly, a dangerous smile, one which seemed to long for danger and a bit of pain. “I suppose you could call it that…”

But then in one swift move, he mounted up atop his beautiful sable animal. They moved as one, as if they were a centaur.

Hector began maneuvering the horse swiftly and easily around the back of the garden.

Tobias realized it was not a garden in the traditional sense. It was a great green space with short, hedged rows and fields rolling down to the river.

It seemed as if an obstacle course had been set up. There were large barriers to jump over, and there were rings set up on posts in ever shrinking sizes. He frowned at that until he realized that Hector was leaning over and taking a rapier from Lord Ajax’s hand, a young blond behemoth of a fellow, who looked as if he could crush one with a simple blow of his fist.

And it struck Tobias then that none of these perfectly dressed men were dandies. They were all hard, with eyes that suggested they understood the way the world truly worked even as they smiled.

The smiles of those who loved danger.

Hector took up the impressive blade, his dark hair shining in the sun.

And as he held the weapon outward and down, guiding his horse forward, Hector began to look as deadly and cold as a wolf narrowing in on its prey.

The horse was steady, which showed that Hector’s own mood was steady. His white linen shirt was open at the throat. His brothers were watching carefully, and then Hector began the charge.

Then one by one, Hector leaned over to the side, held his rapier out, and took off each ring from each post down the way. It was an impressive sight. The rings were not small, and the horse was galloping at a hard pace. If Hector fell off, there was a very good chance he could fall on his own sword and die or be crushed under the animal’s hooves.

Tobias waited to hear a gasp from Lady Juliet, but there was none.

“Is this an everyday practice at your house?” he asked.

She gave him a rueful grin. “We don’t worry too much about bodily safety at Heron House,” she said.

“I see,” he replied.

And then the duke raced out from the trees behind the hedgerows.

His animal was a steely white, and it ate up the earth. Clods of dirt were kicked up and the duke leaned down, close to the animal’s neck, as if he could speak the stallion’s language.

And then he was soaring over the high hedgerows, one after the other, as if they were mere molehills.

Without a saddle.

The animal raced forward, and Tobias’s gut clenched as he realized the duke was wheeling towards him. He readied himself to throw Juliet out of the way.

But the duke pulled up just in time and jumped down at a run, his boots kicking up the ornate pebbles in the path.

He had not realized the good duke was unhinged until that moment.

Brilliant, yes? Unhinged? Definitely. And he wondered what was eating the man up inside to dance with danger so blithely.

The duke smiled at him. “Have you come to ride?”

“I’ve come to work,” he said, “but if you wish me to ride, I will.”

“Marvelous,” the duke said, stroking his stallion’s withers. “Will Persephone suit you?”

He gazed at the pale animal. Persephone, the goddess who spent half her year on Mount Olympus and half in the underworld with Hades.

He wondered if somehow that mirrored the duke.

“She will,” he said calmly.

Tobias approached the horse carefully, stroked its neck, and the horse eyed him. Its eyes softened, though she had been prancing just a moment before with wild energy.

The garden had gone quiet. Everyone was watching. Juliet most of all, but her easy nature had vanished. Though she smiled, her hands were clenched in fists.

She cared.

She cared what happened to him.

He murmured to Persephone, a habit he’d taken up to soothe war-worn horses.

Her stance eased as she released tension. A good thing, for she would run smoother and hold steady for him.

As he turned to face the rings, instinct churned inside him. He held out his hand. “Rapier.”

He had hoped to never think of war again. But that was not the nature of the world. And he felt it in his bones. War was coming again. If not to his shores, to the rest of the world.

And he, like his friend the Marquis de Lafayette, understood that war in one part of the world affected all of the world.

And Tobias would be ready.

After all, while a war of cannon fire had long been gone from his life, he realized there was another war inside him as he watched this family that got on so well.

It was a war of separation, of having been totally separated from his family, save one of his sisters—a sister who had also been abandoned for her beliefs.

It was brutal, knowing that his parents were not far away and yet wanted nothing to do with him. And never would.

The duke lifted his gaze to his and said with a shocking understanding, “We all have to leave things behind, Miller. If we are to make a better world, we have to leave those behind who would tear us down.”

It was a strange thing to say in that moment.

He gave an incline of his head, and Hector rode closer and offered Tobias his rapier.

He took it, considered its weight and balance, and then eyed the targets down the field.

“Smaller rings,” he said quietly.

“Smaller rings?” the duke echoed, surprised, but then he gave a nod and clapped his hands.

Servants ran forward and replaced the present rings with even smaller ones.

He stared down the long field and found his blood racing. He leaned in, pressing close to Persephone, and then they set off together. The charge of the horse’s hooves lit his blood to flame, and he remembered the electrifying moments of heading into battle.

This was nothing like that, but an echo nonetheless. As he rode forward, his rapier outstretched, he focused. He took the first ring, then the second, then the third, then whipped round as if he was riding Rotten Row.

There was a long moment of pause before the brothers exploded in applause.

“Well done!” called Lord Ajax.

“Bloody amazing,” cheered Lord Zephyr.

“Good show, Yank,” stated Hector.

Still, all three of the brothers were eying him as if he was a cushion and they might pin him with the rapier at any moment.

They suspected him of something. He wasn’t sure what it was yet.

“Now what?” he asked, his gaze turning to Lady Juliet, who looked both relieved and in awe.

“Now,” Lady Sylvia declared, “you sing for your supper.”

He wondered then what he had just done. What he had proved to the Briarwoods.

He had a feeling he was going to find out.