A Question of Impropriety (12 page)

Brett thinned his lips. The look in Clare's eyes said it all. He considered Brett to be a fop, a macaroni like Sir Cuthbert. It was time that he learnt they were different. Very different. He looked forward to delivering the final blow tomorrow, to seeing Clare crawl.

‘I conduct my business in the proper venue. Balls are for pleasure, not negotiation.'

‘Never let it be said that I didn't offer. I thought we could discuss the land at the same time.'

‘See to it that you do not make the same mistake again.' Brett turned on his heel, shaking with anger.

‘My sister appears to be enjoying herself on the dance floor,' Clare called after him.

Brett halted. What new game was Clare playing? Why was he bringing his sister into this? ‘She does, rather. I was
lucky to discover her sitting amongst the widows. It would appear I have in advertently brought her to the attention of some others.'

‘I know and I wanted to thank you for it. She took the notion somehow to wear a new ballgown. Dressed up. More fancy than I have seen her for…for years. I had thought it was going to go wrong and then you stepped in and danced with her.'

Brett stared at the man, astonished. He was actually thanking him. His shoulders tensed and the muscles in his arms clenched—the same reactions he always had before the start of a race or a high-stakes game of cards. He should say something, start the process of explaining to Clare what he had done and why. But the words refused to come. ‘I was pleased to help. We are friends.'

‘There is now a queue twenty deep for the honour of dancing with her. Some of them have come to me, begging to hear about the engine. I do worry that it will go to her head, but she does deserve some hap pi ness.' Clare pointed towards where Diana was laughing at some sally a red-coated officer made. Brett forced his shoulders to relax. ‘I trust her implicitly, of course, but as one Cantabrigian to another, I do worry.'

‘Your sister is most assuredly a lady, Clare. I believe we can agree on that point.'

‘Quite.' Clare blinked at him, and he looked surprised. ‘I am so glad you agree.'

‘I will endeavour to ensure that no harm comes to her,' Brett said as he watched Diana start out once more for the dance floor. He wanted to rip the officer's head from his body for even daring to put his gloved hand on her bare shoulder.

‘Thank you, Coltonby. I appreciate it.'

Brett's mouth thinned as he watched Simon Clare dis
appear into the throng. He knew then that he could not use Diana in the way he had planned. He wanted her. He would have her, but he would not use her. He wanted to protect her. And the thought scared him far more than facing a team of runaway horses.

 

Cheeks flushed and feet throbbing, Diana was forced to admit defeat and retired to a chair. It had been so long since she'd properly danced that she was determined to enjoy every moment. Seeing the Honourable Miranda's slightly shocked countenance as she had realized that Diana was not a wall flower was the added spur she had needed.

The major with whom she had been partnered for a quadrille left to get her some refreshment. Diana stared ruefully at her dancing slippers. In her excitement at dancing again, she had forgotten how much they could pinch. She had also forgotten the sharp burning sensation when drops of wax fell on to the back of her neck. It was a hazard of dancing under chandeliers, but as far she could tell none of the wax had landed on her gown. She craned her neck and tried to inspect the point where her sleeve joined the back of the bodice.

‘It is good that you are sitting down,' Brett purred. ‘You appear to have danced without a break since our waltz.'

‘I have had years to catch up on.' Diana blinked up at Brett. She had spent the better part of the last six dances trying to forget that he was in the room and failing. She had finally managed to convince her wayward mind that he would not speak to her again tonight, but then he had appeared, glowering. His brow was darker than Simon's. She clutched her fan tighter. That was it—Brett had decided to play an older brother. The thought should have brought a feeling of relief, but she knew he meant more to her than that. She would get over it. ‘It is interesting how much of
the excitement and the sheer thrill of dancing that one forgets. Have you enjoyed the cotillions and quadrilles? I noticed you led Mrs Sarsfield out. It was thoughtful of you.'

‘I have danced enough, but your cheeks are over-bright. Are you sickening?'

‘Hardly.' Diana waved her fan in front of her, care fully hiding her expression from Brett. He had noticed. It would be far too easy to develop a
tendre
for him. It frightened her that her body became more alive when he was near. ‘Merely tired from my exertion.'

‘Shall I get you a cup of punch?'

‘Major Spence has gone to fetch me some punch.'

‘How good it is to know that Spence is looking after you.'

‘Like you, he seemed concerned. He suggested a turn in the garden, but I explained a sip of punch would be enough.'

Brett's face looked as if he had swallowed something distasteful. ‘And you believe the punch will revive you?'

‘Lady Bolt's punch is considered to be the finest in Northumberland. She keeps the receipt a closely guarded secret, but it is reputed to have wonderful restorative powers. Mrs Sarsfield thinks it is to do with the amount of rum and gin Lady Bolt adds.'

‘I shall have to try it…but later. Is there anything else you require? Shall I take you into supper?'

‘A cup of punch and a sit down is all that is necessary at the moment.' Diana re arranged her skirts. ‘Lieutenant McGowan has already requested the honour of accompanying me into supper.'

‘He is not here now. I believe he is dancing with Charlotte Ortner.'

‘But I agreed.'

‘Do I detect a certain mulishness to your tone?'

‘A certain de cid ed ness, yes.'

‘It is something to be admired, but not necessarily welcomed.' He held out his arm. ‘Shall we stop this silly quarrel before it begins? Come have a stroll with me around the room.'

‘I did promise Major Spence that I would wait here. Like you, I keep my promises.' Diana saw the man in question advancing behind Brett. She had to admit there was no comparing the two. Major Spence was weak chinned and possessed a nervous tic in his eye whenever she asked him about when he was going to join his regiment in the Peninsula. ‘And he has gone to the trouble of getting me a cup of punch. A gentleman by all accounts. Lady Bolt assures me on this point.'

‘Jeremy Spence is not to be trusted.' Brett's voice held more than a hint of menace. ‘Not even with a glass of punch. Remember that.'

‘He was involved in a gallant action in the Peninsula. Apparently he is noted for his gallantry. It was something to do with a convent, but he refuses to say. It appears to me to be more than natural modesty, but Mrs Ortner and Lady Bolt find him charming.'

‘There is gallant and there is
gallant,
Diana, as I am sure you know.' Brett lifted one eyebrow. ‘You did, after all, keep company with one of the Jehu. You know the language we use. Spence drove with the crowd as well.'

Diana's cheeks burnt with an even greater intensity. She had forgotten the
double entendre
of gallant. A gallant action was one involving a mistress. Her hand began to tremble and she concentrated on not snapping the slender ivory leaves of her fan. ‘In a convent?'

‘Nuns are women as well. And it involved more than one convent, or so Spence boasts in male company.'

‘I bow to your expertise.' Diana shifted uneasily. She had thought Major Spence safe despite her slight unease. All her rules told her he should be, but now it seemed that she had no compass to guide her. She had to trust in luck. She swallowed hard. Not luck. Brett. She had to trust Brett. And surprisingly the thought brought her comfort.

‘Thank you for allowing me to handle this.'

Brett smoothly took both cups of punch from Major Spence. ‘It was so kind of you to fetch Miss Diana and me some punch.'

‘There are to be three of us?' The major's pale blue eyes blinked rapidly and his prominent Adam's apple bobbed up and down. ‘I had hoped for a quiet word with Miss Clare, Coltonby. You do understand my meaning.'

‘Miss Clare explained that you would be giving details of your gallant action and I do so love tales of heroics.' Brett smoothly took the cups of punch from the major. ‘She did urge me to take a sip of Lady Bolt's punch. I trust you won't mind. After all, I should hate for you to be accused of anything under handed.'

‘No, no, not at all. I will fetch another cup.' Major Spence's lip curled slightly. ‘After all, one never likes to upset an earl and particularly not one with a reputation like Lord Coltonby's.'

Diana glanced quickly from the major to Brett. Brett merely straightened his cuffs and took a sip of the punch. ‘An excellent concoction. I do believe Lady Bolt is to be complimented. You must try some, Major Spence, before it is all gone,' she said.

‘I shall, dear lady.'

‘Have this one.' Brett held out the other cup. ‘Miss Clare will be going into supper shortly in any case. I believe Lieutenant McGowan has that honour.'

Diana gritted her teeth. Brett was behaving far worse
than her brother. He was truly in sup portable. ‘I did ask Major Spence for a cup of punch.'

‘I will get another one for myself, dear lady.' The major handed her the cup. ‘I am used to making sacrifices for the ladies.'

Diana took a sip and nearly choked. The punch appeared to have twice the alcohol that it normally did. Brett lifted an eyebrow.

‘Precisely how many convents were involved in your gallant action, Spence?' Brett said, drawling the word gallant. ‘I am very interested in learning the unembellished truth.'

‘Well, naturally I hesitate to give the full details because of Miss Clare's sensibilities. War is not for the ladies.'

Diana regarded Major Spence over the rim of her glass. His cheek was flushed. Brett's surmise had been correct. His gallant action was Jehu gallant. ‘I must assure you, Major, that I do not give way easily to fainting.'

The major tugged at his collar and his florid face grew even redder. ‘I wish to state…' he began, but then stopped. His eyes darted from Diana to Brett and back again and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down several times ‘The fire works are about to begin in the garden, Miss Clare. I over heard Maurice Bolt telling another lady. If you would be so good as to join me on the terrace, we can find a good place to watch the display.'

Diana froze. Her hand trembled slightly and the punch threatened to spill. Brett's fingers took the cup from her as she struggled to regain her composure. Fireworks. Gardens. Darkness.

A black hole opened inside her and threatened to swallow all her hap pi ness and joy, sucking her into the past and its nightmare.

How could she have forgotten, even for one instant?

‘I believe Miss Clare is very comfortable here. She and I are looking forward to your tale of derring-do.' Brett's voice appeared to come from a long way away, calling her back to the present.

Diana smiled up at him and he nodded slightly.

‘We are waiting, Spence.' Brett tapped his finger nail against the rim of his glass. ‘Indulge us.'

‘I see Sir Norman quizzing Simon Clare on his new engine. I believe Sir Norman is keen to acquire one of his own. If you will excuse me. I truly must hear more.' The major rapidly re treated.

Diana forced her shoulders to relax and her breath to come naturally. She was not in London, but Northumberland. The events of five years ago were in the past. She was safe in the light. With people. Nobody knew. Nobody guessed. Everything was behind her.

‘If you wish to go and hear about the travelling engine, I won't keep you. It is Simon's pride and joy.'

‘There are other things to interest me.' He raised a casual shoulder. ‘I am not overly enamoured of machines—filthy necessary evils that thank fully stay still. My horses always shy around pumping stations and wheel houses.'

‘Then you have not caught the infamous Loco Motive fever?'

‘Thankfully, no.'

‘Perhaps you have not been in the north-east long enough, then. Everyone from the Duke of Northumberland on down seems obsessed with the idea.'

He curled his fingers around hers and drew her to her feet. ‘Now, most everyone has gone to see the fire works. I seem to recall that you enjoyed them. The punch of Spence's has done you no good, perhaps the cool air will help.'

The faint screams and the whistles of the rockets pene
trated the room, but they were far away. Bearable. Slowly she shook her head and pulled away. ‘I find they are not to my taste. They…they…that is to say, I dislike the bangs.'

His eyes grew troubled. ‘But I have a clear memory of you laughing up at them. Once at Vauxhall Gardens.'

‘It must have been some other girl,' Diana said firmly. ‘I have never liked them.'

Silently she prayed he would accept her lie.

‘Shall I remain here with you?'

‘No, you go. I will go and keep Mrs Sarsfield company.'

He made a bow. ‘As you wish.'

Diana's shoulders sagged. She had done it. All would be well. She had survived.

T
he morning sun shone directly in Diana's eyes as she lay in her bed, gazing at the curtains. Every time she'd closed her eyes, Brett's face had appeared and her body had relived the waltz and the pressure of his hand against her waist again and again. Her body had ached with an intense longing. Finally as the first cocks had begun to crow, she had fallen into a dream less sleep.

‘Your brother left hours ago, up at the crack of dawn, muttering about the impertinence of the aristocrats, or so his valet pro claimed.' Rose said, bustling in with fresh tea and toast. Titch followed at her heels, looking hope fully for a dropped crust. ‘I took it to mean that he did not have a pleasant time at the ball. Did you have a good time? Was the gown remarked on? You never really said last night.'

‘Your gown made me the belle of the ball, Rose, but I had forgotten how tiring they can be.' Diana reached under the counterpane and gave the base of her foot a rub. ‘And how much they can make your feet ache. Luckily I remembered to put on that cream—you know, the one the
stable man uses to keep horses' hooves soft—and do not have blisters.'

‘The master appeared quite surprised at the amount of time you spent dancing.' Rose gave a loud sniff. ‘Why he should be surprised, I have no idea. You looked a picture in that dress.'

‘My brother was his usual early-morning self, then.' Diana pulled the covers up and snuggled further down into the bed. ‘I am pleased I slept in.'

‘You are avoiding my question, Miss Diana. There has been talk. Who played you court? Your dress was fit for a princess. How many soldiers? How many titles? And what about your Lord Coltonby?'

‘Has anyone paid me court for the past five years, Rose? Stop teasing me.' Diana kept her gaze resolutely on the bed curtains, but at Rose's clucking she turned over on her side. ‘Out with it, what news have you heard? What am I supposed to confirm?'

‘There is talk about Lord Coltonby and he did come to call.'

Diana's hand paused. Her feelings about Brett were too new and fragile. She had no idea what she wanted to do. The only thing she did know was that marriage was not possible. For either of them. He seemed to have only brotherly concern for her. He had left after they'd kissed and only returned because he had promised to dance with her at the ball.

When he did marry, he would undoubtedly go back down to London and find a suitable wife, a Diamond, rather than a Disgraced Has-Been with a modest fortune.

‘Rose, Lord Coltonby is an old acquaintance. He was a friend of my former fiancé. He took me under his wing and re-introduced me to society. He has done so, and there it ends.'

‘If you say so, Miss Diana, but why has he sent this note? First thing, by special messenger?' Rose produced a missive from her apron pocket. ‘It is the second time in under a week that I have seen that hand writing. And the under-house maid had it from the stable hand who had it from the Bolts' footman that…'

Diana resisted the urge to snatch the missive from Rose's hand. Instead she leant down and fed Titch some toast. The terrier gave a soft snuffling bark. ‘The servants' network never ceases to amaze me.'

‘It is a good thing we have it, too, since certain people will not bother to inform other people of what's happening.'

‘Rose dear, there is nothing to say. You would be the first to know. Have I ever kept secrets from you?' Diana kept her eyes firmly on Titch's ears. There was one secret that she had kept from Rose. They had never spoken of that night more than five years ago. She had often thought it providence that Rose had left to visit relatives before Diana had returned from Vauxhall.

‘Humph. I do worry about you, Miss Diana. I want to see you settled.'

Diana stared at the heavy cream-coloured paper and resisted the temptation to immediately break open the seal. ‘Has any other post arrived?'

‘A letter from Master Robert's headmaster. The master glanced at the handwriting and then said that you would handle it as you were so good with the headmaster last time.' Rose shook her head. ‘The lad doesn't mean any harm. It is a bit of fun. Boys will be boys. My younger brothers were always trying to put handfuls of beetles and spiders down my back. One is a clerk in a shipping office now and the other's joined the navy.'

‘He does it to get Simon's attention.'

‘You know that. I know that. The man in the moon knows it, but will the master listen?'

Diana drew in a breath. Perhaps Robert and his troubles at school were the distraction she needed. Another way to remind her of her duty. Her time was better spent on this rather than on thinking about castles in the air and things that could never be. Her treacherous mind kept returning to Brett's kiss and ways in which it could be repeated.

‘Any guess on what he has done this time? I only hope it is spiders down some poor boy's back.' She opened the letter and quickly read the com plaint. The corners of her mouth twitched. ‘Robert has let off a stink bomb in the headmaster's study. Doctor Allen quite rightly points out that he cannot tolerate this sort of behaviour. Simon will have to contact him and persuade him otherwise, if Robert is to stay at that school.'

‘Are you going to tell him about the last time? You know what he was like.'

‘Robert must learn that he has to obey rules.' Diana tapped the letter against the table. ‘I will write to Robert and explain. If he is expelled, his father will never let him have a horse.'

‘Young master Robert will not take any notice of the threat. The times I have told him not to take the softening cream off your dressing table…horses have their own, I said.'

‘You are right, Rose, I shall have to write to the headmaster and beg him to reconsider his threat. Robert takes such threats as a challenge.' Diana put a hand to her head. ‘With Simon in his current mood, the combination of the two would stretch my nerves un bearably. They may deserve each other, but do I deserve them?'

‘He has a good heart, Robert does. He picked me a bunch of daisies before he left.'

‘Both of them do, Rose. However, I do get tired of being the one to enforce discipline, of being the sensible one, while my brother immerses himself in his work.'

‘If Robert is thrown out of this school, where will he go? The master won't have him here. Remember the ink incident.'

‘We solve that problem if it arises, Rose.' Diana put the letter to one side and reached for the tea pot. She became aware that Rose still stood there, regarding her with a strange expression. ‘Is something amiss?'

‘There's a letter from Lord Coltonby and you are seeking to distract me with tales of young master Robert,' Rose said. ‘I heard from Lady Bolt's house keeper you danced a waltz with him. A waltz, Miss Diana. Where did you ever learn such a thing?'

‘Yet more gossip, Rose?' Diana lifted her cup to her lips and hoped Rose would ignore the sudden flaming of her cheeks. ‘The tongues have clearly been busy this morning. When shall I be informed of the engagement?'

‘There is something between you two. Why write to you? And come calling? Twice. And all this fuss to get the ball dress altered. A body wants to be prepared.'

‘You may put the patterns away, Rose.' Diana swirled the tea in her cup. ‘There is no wedding in my future.'

‘But, miss…'

‘He has become a friend. He is being kind. He sees me as no more than a younger sister.'

‘Then your
friend
has sent you a note. One which you refuse to open. You should read it immediately.' Rose crossed her arms. ‘He is unmarried and an earl. He will be looking for a wife, it stands to reason. You should stop doing yourself down, Miss Diana.'

Diana's throat closed. She refused to explain the how and the why, not after all these years. ‘I have sworn never
to marry. There is Robert to think of. Stop attempting to match make, Rose.'

‘You get the strangest notions in your head, Miss Diana. Not marry? The women who say such things do not have an earl as a suitor. Nor a sizeable fortune. You are not thinking straight, Miss Diana.'

‘I enjoy my independence. Once I was delivered from a disastrous alliance, and I do not want to risk it again.' At the sound of Rose's disgusted noise, Titch began howling. Diana gave a sigh. ‘I suppose you will not give me any peace until I do open the note and respond to it.'

‘What do you have against the man?'

‘He had a certain reputation five years ago,' Diana said slowly, drawing out each word. She bent down and picked Titch up, placated him with a corner of toast. ‘He would pursue anything in a skirt. I am a challenge to him. He finds me an amusement. He will soon tire of the chase and find other prey. It is what men do.'

‘Who are you trying to convince—me or you? I looked through my magazines. You know, the ones Mrs Sarsfield sends me. They go on about his horses and the purses that he was won, but he hasn't been involved in the Crim. Con.'

‘He is infinitely discreet.'

‘Or maybe you underestimate your charms.'

‘I know what my charms are, Rose.' Diana buried her face in Titch's soft fur. The little dog gave her a disgusted look and leapt off the bed.

‘I know what they are as well, Miss Diana. And you are doing yourself a disservice. You are frightened of living. Any time a man comes sniffing around your skirts, you put up shields and blocks. Excuses.'

‘There is no need to be vulgar.'

‘But I am right.' Rose gave a decided nod. ‘You have
piqued his interest. You should capitalise on it. You never know where such friend ship might lead.'

‘I am being realistic, Rose.' Diana knew her cheeks were glowing as the maid's beam in creased. ‘Try to understand.'

‘Oh, Miss Diana, you can be such fun to tease. Think nothing of me. I am so pleased you have decided to wear pretty clothes again.'

Diana broke open the seal and read the note. A few words leapt out at her and her breath stopped.

A matter of urgency has arisen.

‘Is there a problem, Miss Diana? You have gone ashen.'

‘I think I will be going out after all.'

‘And you are still positive that he wants nothing to do with you?'

Diana brushed the crumbs from the bed. ‘Ask Jenkins to get the gig ready.'

‘I am coming with you.' Rose moved her ample bulk in front of Diana. ‘You are not without friends, Miss Diana—should you need them. You are far from being alone. This isn't London. You have a certain standing in this community. People know and respect you.'

Diana reached out and clutched Rose's hand, relief flooding over her. She had dreaded the thought of travelling there on her own. This way it was somehow more respectable. But she kept wondering—what had Simon done now? Why did Brett need to see her? ‘Thank you.'

 

‘You wished to see me urgently?' Diana held the crumpled note aloft when Brett entered his drawing room. She had spent an uncomfortable few moments alone after the butler had shown her into the room.

Annoyingly, Brett appeared remarkably unruffled in
his black morning coat and buckskin breeches. Even his neck cloth was impeccably tied. He gave no sign that he was under mental distress or that anything unto wards had happened. She was aware that her bonnet was slightly at an angle and that her old burgundy gown and pelisse had been the first ones to hand. And her hair was pulled back in a simple knot. Now she wished that she had taken more time, rather than starting out like some mad thing.

‘You are later than I'd thought you would be,' he said finally. ‘I had expected you before noon. It is a shame, but there we have it. A few hours of daylight remain.'

‘You expected me to come here?' Diana's fingers curled around the note, twisting it beyond recognition.

‘Why else would I have sent the note?' He tilted his head to one side as his eyes assessed her. ‘Asking you to visit.'

‘Demanding.'

‘Definitely asking.'

‘A polite note would have sufficed. The whole tone was alarming in the extreme.' Diana swallowed hard. Since the moment she had first read the note, various possibilities had gone through her brain, each more dreadful than the last. ‘What has happened?'

‘I had no wish to alarm you. A situation has risen and I would like some advice.'

‘You have a funny way of going about it. I was certain some terrible disaster had befallen you, that something was dread fully wrong.' Diana crossed her arms.

‘Nothing is wrong. There are things I wanted to discuss with you. Reasons to have you visit.' Brett gave an unrepentant smile.

‘But I thought…Simon had been and there was trouble.' Diana stumbled over the last few words.

The corners of Brett's lips twitched. ‘Can I help it if people choose to leap to illogical conclusions?'

‘You knew I would think that!' Diana gritted her teeth, refused to give in to his increasingly engaging smile. ‘You are insufferable! I care about my reputation, even if you do not.'

‘Have no fear. I will not use it as some sort of bar gaining counter. What has passed between us, stays between us.' His face sobered and a muscle twitched in his cheek. ‘Harm comes to reputations when people are indiscreet. No one has ever accused me of being indiscreet.'

‘I know the value of discretion.' She pressed her hands together. She wished she knew exactly what was in his mind—but how to ask the questions when she feared the answers? ‘I know how the world works. One may do much, if it is not flaunted before the censorious eyes of society. Men have far more licence than women. Hypocrisy reigns.'

‘An advocate of Mary Wollstonecraft?'

‘The scales had dropped from my eyes before I read her work, but, yes, I see much to admire in it.' She waited to hear his mocking rebuttal.

‘It is the way of the world. However much we might hope to change it.' He lifted an eyebrow. ‘I, per son ally, loathe hypocrisy.'