The Yellow Diamond

Michelle Grahame

Description

ABOUT THE BOOK
Mystery and Romance in Regency England
It is the spring of 1817, and 28-year-old widow, Amanda Fletcher, guardian to Sir Piers and Rosalie abbot, has accompanied them to stay with the dowager Marchioness of Coverdale, for the London season. Amanda has been obliged to bring with her a rare and valuable yellow diamond, because mysterious, anonymous notes claiming that the jewel does not belong to the Abbot family, have been received. Justin, the handsome,32-year-old, Marquis, offers to keep it safe for her. A rapport develops between them, until Amanda discovers some unwelcome news.
In Coverdale House; 19-year-old Rosalie a talented musician, realises that a shadowy figure is listening to her practicing for a concert. Is this Justin’s reclusive younger brother, who occupies rooms in the east wing, and looked after by the “sergeant”?
Justin is intrigued by an impression of a seal he finds, belonging to Amanda, and visits the eminent Dr Pargeter, her some-time mentor, for information.
Another anonymous note is delivered, and then Rosalie is abducted in broad daylight, and the footman accompanying her badly wounded. Who will ride to her rescue? And who is the true owner of THE YELLOW DIAMOND?
More about the families in “STAPLEWOOD PARK”. Coming soon!

Sujets

• Mystery
• Romance
• Love
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse UK
• Date de parution: 25 août 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781728374819
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE YELLOW DIAMOND
MICHELLE GRAHAME

 
AuthorHouse™ UK
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403 USA
www.authorhouse.co.uk
Phone: UK TFN: 0800 0148641 (Toll Free inside the UK) UK Local: (02) 0369 56322 ([phone] from outside the UK)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
© 2022 Michelle Grahame. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse 08/24/2022
 
ISBN: 978-1-7283-7479-6 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-7283-7480-2 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-7283-7481-9 (e)
 
 
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
CONTENTS
About The Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Author’s Notes
Acknowledgements
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
Love Will Have to Wait
Lord of Hades
Rhapsody in Black
 
Dedication
In Loving memory of Frank
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michelle Grahame lives in Northwest Kent, and enjoys visits from her family, reading and taking part in local activities. “I love creating characters and plots for my novels.” Says Michelle. As an avid collector, she likes attending boot and antique fairs, where a random purchase can become an inspiration for her writing. A qualified Art Historian and lecturer, now retired, she has had many opportunities to engage with people who share her interest. The YELLOW DIAMOMD, and its sequel, STAPLEWOOD PARK, are her first historical novels.
If you enjoyed The Yellow Diamond , I would love to hear from you.
www.michellegrahame.co.uk
CHAPTER 1
T he Marquis of Coverdale, leaning against the mantelpiece of his mother’s withdrawing room, was not attired for a morning call, but dressed for riding. He caught a glimpse of his stock in the over-mantel looking-glass, and rearranged a crease before saying: ‘Well, Mama?’
The Dowager Marchioness, seated by the fire, looked up from her needlework. ‘I wanted to see you, Justin.’
His Lordship raised a dark eyebrow. ‘I rather gathered that, from the note I received, just as I was about to set off for the park, and here I am, always the obedient son.’
‘Well, you see, dear—’
But any explanation his mother was about to give was cut short by a discreet tap on the door. The butler entered, bearing a silver salver, which he presented to her ladyship, who took the single card, read it, and passed it to her son.
‘The persons you have been expecting have arrived, M’lady. Do you wish me to show them up?’
‘Yes, Clarkson, immediately, and then bring refreshments, coffee, madeira wine, and some pastries, that sort of thing.’ She waved a languid hand.
‘Very good, M’lady.’
The butler withdrew, and the marquis took the opportunity to examine the card, a simple one bearing the printed name: Sir Piers Abbot, Abbots Court, Somerset.” Written below, in ink, was the legend, “Miss Abbot and ‘Mrs Fletcher.”
Moments later, three people were ushered into the room. tall lady dressed in plain green merino, relieved only by narrow bands of lace at the neck and cuffs, and a much younger lady, barely out of the schoolroom, whose sprigged muslin dress, paled into insignificance in the shadow of her outstanding beauty: large cornflower-blue eyes and rosebud lips, and tip-tilted nose, set in a heart-shaped face, framed with blonde ringlets. The third member of the trio was a young man, with blond hair, and fashionably clad, but clearly not London-tailored. He was visibly leaning on an ivory-handled ebony cane; his face was pale and his expression drawn.
‘Oh, my dear children, and Mrs Fletcher, too, welcome, welcome indeed. I hope your journey wasn’t too trying.’ She was looking anxiously at the young man and held out her arms.
The girl rushed forward. ‘Oh God-mamma, how kind of you to ask us here.’ She clasped the old lady’s hand with both of hers.
This was the first clue that the marquis had gleaned of what was going on, but his mother soon provided more information. ‘Justin, dear, this lovely child is my god-daughter, Rosalie, and may I introduce Sir Piers Abbot?’
The Marquis held out his hand, and the young man came forward rather stiffly to shake it. ‘How do you do, My Lord? I am very pleased to meet you.’ He bowed.
‘Your servant, Sir Piers,’ replied the Marquis, still somewhat bewildered by the turn of events.
‘Mrs Fletcher, I am so glad you were able to find the time to come. May I introduce you to my son, the Marquis of Coverdale? Justin, this lady is the guardian of these two young people.’
The marquis raised a dark eyebrow; the lady seemed very young to be a guardian, besides it being unusual for any woman to be in that position anyway, but he smiled his welcome as Amanda Fletcher bobbed a curtsey. Her next utterance took him by surprise completely.
‘It was so kind of Lady Coverdale to suggest that you might be able to help me out of the little difficulty I find myself in. I expect it has all been explained to you—’
Keeping a straight face, he replied. ‘not precisely, Mrs Fletcher,’ skewering his mother with a lance-like glare, which she studiously avoided. She was spared a reply by a footman arriving with a tray of drinks and pastries.
Looking meaningfully at her son, the marchioness said: ‘perhaps you would like to take Mrs Fletcher to the book-room, where she can explain matters in more detail, while I talk to these dear children.’
‘An excellent idea, Mama.’
‘Thank you, Alfred, have some refreshments sent to the book-room at once.’
‘Yes, M’lady.’ He set he tray on a small table and withdrew.
The marquis turned to the lady in question, who was wearing a quizzical expression, tinged, with a touch of amusement.
‘Allow me to escort you, Ma’am.’
Once settled in the large book-lined room, furnished with reading-desks, easy chairs, and a pair of large globes, Amanda Fletcher felt it should be she, who opened the conversation.
‘How much does “not precisely” mean, concerning my problem, My Lord?’
Justin gave a little half-smile. ‘I imagine from that remark, Mrs Fletcher, you realise I know nothing at all. In fact, your very existence was unknown to me before you stepped into my mother’s drawing room. The other two, I suppose, I have been vaguely aware of before. I’m afraid my mother has either been extremely forgetful, which is unlikely, or deliberately kept me in the dark, for reasons of her own.’
Before she could reply, another footman arrived. Justin immediately took the tray and dismissed the servant. Placing the tray on a nearby table, he turned to ask Amanda what her preference was.
‘Coffee, My Lord, if you please.’
Once comfortably seated, Justin began, ‘Perhaps we may now try to unravel your …er …difficulty, Mrs Fletcher,’ he said, with an encouraging smile.
After a short pause, while Amanda gathered her thoughts, she began. ‘It is primarily a financial problem, Lord Coverdale,’ then realising he might think she was short of money, she went on hastily, ‘our mother has just told you that I am the legal guardian of those two young people upstairs, and therefore am in control of their finances until they come of age. While in Somerset, there is no difficulty, but now that I …we …are in Town, there is. I shall need to draw on money for all kinds of expenses, especially for Rosalie’s debut.’ She stopped, feeling she was rattling on.
Justin looked puzzled, and said, ‘I don’t think I understand the problem.’
‘That is because you are a man, My Lord. You may not be aware that women are not permitted to have account at London bank, and it would be impossible to apply to my fellow trustee, a solicitor in Taunton, to send money by post, so I need to be able to set up banking facilities. I have brought a banker’s order, drawn on the trustee account. Your mother wrote to me saying you could help.’
‘Did she, indeed?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, she was right. Of course, I can. I will speak to my secretary as soon as possible, and it can be fixed in no time. You have enough for your needs at the moment?’
Amanda couldn’t help a little sigh of relief. ‘Oh, yes, quite sufficient, but not enough to last the whole Season.’ She put down her cup and rose to go. ‘Thank you so much, Lord Coverdale, for offering to help; it has taken a lot of worry from my mind.’
‘Please,’ begged the marquis, ‘won’t you stay a little while longer and tell me what else is still on your mind. Let me pour you another cup, Mrs Fletcher.’
Amanda wondered why he thought she had other worries, but nevertheless, sank back in her chair and accepted a second cup of coffee.
‘I don’t know what made you think I have further concerns, but you ar