Diamonds and Dreams by Rebecca Paisley

“What have we here?”
Addison cried. Goldie scrambled to her feet, reaching for her
claymore. Addison smiled at her. “You’ve no need to fear me. I only
came to see what happened to...to my cousin. Saber, what are you
doing here with this girl?”
    Goldie looked down at Saber, who was pulling
on his boots. “Your name’s Saber ? What the hell kind of name
is that?”
    Swiping sand from his wet breeches, Saber
rose. He frowned at Addison. “My real name is—”
    Addison thought fast. “He’s Saber West,” he
blurted, borrowing the “West” from Saber’s second name,
‘Westbrook.’”
    “I’m Addison Gage, and Saber is my fourth
and misfortunate cousin. He and I—Uh...Although he and I are of the
same age, I don’t believe it would be erroneous to say I’m
something of a guardian to him. You see, it recently came to my
attention that he was in dire straits. When I met Saber I believed
it my duty to assist him financially and otherwise. As his
blood-cousin I could do no less.”
    Saber rolled his eyes. “Addison, that’s
ridic—”
    “And these men are Winston Alders, Kenneth
Lynnly, and David Clarkston,” Addison broke in smoothly, pointing
to the three men standing beside him.
    Goldie nodded and smiled at each of them.
“Does one of you own this estate? Y’see, we got a rabbit, and even
though Saber says it’s all right, I still want to say I’m sorry. I
don’t want anybody to get mad at me.”
    Saber laid his hand on her shoulder,
deciding the charade had gone on long enough. “Goldie, I—”
    Winston coughed loudly. “Another friend of
ours owns Leighwood.”
    “Winston,” Saber said, a note of warning in
his voice.
    “Quite right,” David agreed with Winston.
“But he’s a dreadfully boring man.”
    “Positively the dullest man in all of
England,” Addison added, removing his gloves and slapping his palm
with them. “He rarely ventures out of London. With his permission
we are enjoying his estate for as long as it pleases us to
stay.”
    Goldie stared at him. His mannerisms were
kind of fancy to her way of thinking. “Are you some sort of dukish
man?” she asked anxiously.
    “No,” Addison hurried to say. “I am only a
mister.” He realized he couldn’t tell her he and his friends were
earls. If she knew, she’d have a more correct idea of aristocratic
behavior. And her plans for Saber were much more amusing.
“Mr. Addison Gage, at your service.”
    Groaning, Saber glanced at the treetops.
“Goldie, allow me to introduce myself properly. I’m—”
    “He’s Saber West,” Addison said again,
glaring hard at his old friend. “Saber, have you given any more
thought to that trip to Paris? The last time I spoke to you about
it, you were unwilling to go. Have you changed your mind?”
    Remembering that his defiance would send him
to France with the aunties and their friends, Saber returned
Addison’s glare. “No, I have not,” he snapped. He suddenly
understood that Addison was adamant that he not reveal his true
identity. Why, Saber didn’t know. But he had the uneasy feeling
Addison was hatching some obnoxious scheme. And since he had no
idea what that scheme entailed, he couldn’t very well thwart it. He
became silent and wary.
    “While the boys and I neared this pond,”
Addison addressed Goldie, “we couldn’t help but overhear you
talking about your problem. You say our Saber resembles Lord
Tremayne?”
    “Spittin’ image,” Goldie replied. “At least
I’m almost sure he is. You ever seen the real Duke Marion?”
    Addison closed his eyes as if in deep
thought. “You know, I believe I have. It was many years ago. And if
my memory serves me correctly, Saber here does indeed resemble him.
The real duke, though, is much more handsome.”
    Saber exhaled angrily. “Addison, I don’t
know what you think you’re doing, but—”
    “It doesn’t matter that the real Duke
Marion’s better-lookin’ than you, Saber,” Goldie cooed. “Folks in
Hallensham