Darcy Darlington and the Diamond of Desire by Maya Rodale

Darcy darlington and the diamond of desire

Chapter Two ~ In which our heroine is presented with an unusual challenge

One week earlier...

The qualities that made Miss Darcy Darlington an excellent amateur sleuth were also the very same traits that were an absolute liability when it came to attracting the romantic attentions of Lieutenant Tristan Cole. Her features, though fine enough, were undistinguished and verged precariously on the side of plain. Her brown hair and brown eyes were unremarkable. Everything about her whispered forget me. Perfect for when she wanted to pass by undetected (and she often did). Not perfect for catching the eye of a handsome London rake like Tristan.

She and Tristan had grown up as neighbors and childhood companions. She was certain that Tristan would name her as his best friend, and she would say the same. However, at some point between the ages of twelve and her present six and twenty, she was no longer content with merely friendship. Alas, he was.

But now was not the time to think of him.

It was one of her at home afternoons, and unlike most ladies of her station, most of Darcy’s callers did not present themselves to enjoy her company or further their acquaintance. No, they sought out her skills at solving crimes and mysteries.

“A caller, Madame,” Pinkerton, the butler, intoned. “Miss Felicia Weatherby.”

Rufus, one of the six family dogs, lifted his head and emitted a low growl. Darcy’s mother had more than a fondness for animals—she adopted any stray she found and spent more of her time crusading for animal rights than anything else. Darcy hushed the mutt and turned her attention to her guest.

“You must be the famous Miss Darlington, I presume?”

“The one and only,” Darcy replied, quickly evaluating her guest. Miss Weatherby was petite, with dark hair, bright blue eyes and a slightly tanned complexion. “Would you care for tea?”

“That would be just the thing, thank you.”

“What brings you today, Miss Weatherby?” Darcy asked, handing her a teacup.

“My friend mentioned you, and your work, to me. I am here because of a necklace. It had been in the Weatherby family for generations. My older sister took it with her when she married. But it was lost to me, us, when—“ Miss Weatherby pressed her white linen handkerchief to the corners of each eye. “She has passed away, and her husband, my brother-in-law, refuses to give me the necklace.”

“I fear the law is on his side,” Darcy pointed out gently.

“It would be, were it not for the fact that their marriage contract explicitly states that the necklace is to be returned to the Weatherby family in the event of her death. That horrid man knows this and yet refuses to answer my letters or meet with my solicitors.”

“Miss Weatherby, what are you asking of me?” People often begged her to apply her talents to what amounted to nothing more than theft; Darcy refused them all.

“I am requesting your assistance in returning property to its rightful owner. Besides, I have much more need of this necklace than he does. What does a man want a necklace for?”

“Perhaps he is saving it for a new wife or his daughter?” Darcy said, stating what she thought was obvious.

“He murdered his daughter, and because of that no woman will have him!”

“We are not speaking of the Evil Lord Hartshorne, are we?” Darcy asked. Her voice came out in a whisper.

“The very one, I fear.”

She had confronted her share of villains and evildoers and generally unsavory specimens of humanity. But the Evil Lord Hartshorne was in another league altogether. It was said that he murdered his wife and child—burned them alive, in fact. He had been acquitted at the trial due to insufficient evidence, but society had not been so lenient in its judgment. The Evil Lord Hartshorne was not received, and no one dared to call upon him.

“No,” Darcy said firmly. She set down her teacup and started to rise. She would not steal, for one thing. She certainly wouldn’t steal from a known murderer. Golly, Miss Weatherby must think her insane!

“Oh, this is not just any necklace, Miss Darlington. What if I told you that this necklace has magical powers?”

Darcy coughed loudly to cover up the unladylike snort that she couldn’t restrain.

“I’m going to speak plainly to you, Miss Darlington,” Miss Weatherby continued, unfazed. “You are, as they say, on the shelf. You are not an unfortunate looking female, and your family’s connections are, if odd, not altogether bad. Gossip tells me that you have refused offers of marriage. And I can’t help but wonder if you are holding out for a particular man?”

Darcy did not answer. Could not answer. She could only think of Tristan Cole. One day, he would notice her as a woman and not just his childhood friend, or honorary sister. One day he would tire of his rakish ways, and he would settle down with her. For no woman understood him like she did, or loved him as she did. One day he would come to his senses and—

“I wonder how long you intend to wait for him?” Miss Weatherby queried, tilting her head ever so slightly to one side. Her tone was gentle; her words were sharp.

“I don’t see how any of that is at all relevant,” Darcy said, trying to sound firm and haughty, but failing.

“Allow to me explain. The necklace I seek contains a stone known as the Diamond of Desire. It makes the wearer irresistible to the she loves. Should you obtain this for me, Miss Darlington, it will be yours to wear for one night. Others may pay you in coin, but I could pay you by delivering you the means to obtain your future happiness.”

“Your proposal is intriguing, Miss Weatherby. But I cannot accept it.”

“I shall give you time to think it over. I would hate for you to change your mind, once it is too late.”

To Be Continued…

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