A Question of Impropriety (21 page)

‘Brett!' Her hand reached out instinctively to steady herself, but tangled with the ribbons.

Brett cursed long and loud. He pulled back hard. Diana felt her body slam into the railing as the carriage turned sharply, colliding with the cart. Everything slowed down and seemed to take an age.

Images flashed—the little girl in blue, the ball, the lead horse rearing, Brett's arms straining against the ribbons as he struggled to avoid the girl. A piercing scream re sounded in the air, followed by the slow crunch of wood. With the noise, the speed started to move double quick and Diana felt the carriage lurch to one side and then the other. Everything hurtled forwards and then stopped. The world became dark.

Diana risked a breath and found her lungs could fill without an ache. She raised a shaking hand and pushed her bonnet back from her forehead.

‘Are you injured?' Brett asked, his dark grey eyes peering into hers.

‘I am fine, a little shaken.' Diana put her hand to her face. ‘I never meant to…'

‘It was an accident. You must not think about it.'

‘How is the little girl? And the horses?'

‘I will see to the horses now, but the child appears unharmed. Her mother pulled her to safety.' Brett lightly jumped down from his perch.

‘I still don't know how you missed her.'

‘I drive to the inch. There is a practical reason for it.'

A farmer hung on to the bridle of the lead horse. Diana could see a pregnant woman had scooped the child up and was cradling her in her arms. Everything would be fine. It was only objects that were damaged. Not people. The accident could have been much worse.

Diana sank back against the seat, trembling. She heard the farmer's raised voice, the wail of the child and Brett's measured tones. Everything flowed over her as a late butter fly fluttered a few inches from her nose. Silently, she pleaded that every thing would be fine and they would quickly continue on their way.

‘Everything is solved, Diana, but you need to get down.' Brett reached up a hand to help her down. He wanted to gather her into his arms. The accident could have been so much worse. All he could see was how she had very nearly fallen, but had clung on. The images played over and over in his mind and he knew that he faced many nights waking up in a cold sweat, haunted by what might have happened. Today was not supposed to have been about losing her, but regaining her trust, demonstrating in the only way he knew how that he cared and wanted to start again. He wished to think that friend ship was enough.

‘Yes, I think I will ride inside the carriage.'

‘It won't be possible. Not yet,' Brett said gravely. He gave a wave to the farm labourer. The farmer's cart bore some signs of damage, but it was the wheels of the carriage that needed to be repaired.

‘Is the carriage all right? You managed to stop before any lasting damage was done.' Diana's smile faded. ‘Will we be able to continue on our journey? We will return to Ladywell today.'

‘There will be a delay. The wheels need to be seen to. I will not drive an unsafe carriage, Diana, not even for you.'

‘How long of a delay?' Her eyes showed alarm. ‘I wanted to get back to Ladywell tonight.'

‘There is an inn down the road—the Angel. Respectable, but not fashionable. I will get you a private room.' Brett willed her to understand. He had no desire to compromise her. He wished now that he had thought to bring her maid, someone to make the stay respectable. But he had been certain that time alone would be the correct way to woo her.

‘Your version of respectable may differ from mine.'

‘Or the farmer's.' Brett reached over and readjusted her bonnet so it was sitting more firmly on her head. ‘The mail coach stops there. It is the best the village has to offer. The only place. You will have to brave it, as will I. The village is quiet and so we should be able to get rooms.'

‘Can I take the mail coach?' The words tumbled out, tripping over each other in her rush to get them out. ‘Rose and Simon will be expecting me home today. They will wonder what has happened.'

‘It has departed.'

‘Departed?' Her hands went to her bonnet, straightening it and re-straightening it. ‘How could it have already departed? It was my best hope of returning to Ladywell. You promised.'

‘Are you saying that I somehow planned the accident?'

‘No, no. There was nothing you could have done about it.'

He pressed his lips together, feeling a great pit open in his stomach. He wanted her, but he needed her to want him in her life as well as in her bed. This time when he proposed, she would be left in no doubt that his proposal went beyond lip service to duty.

‘Your plans will be delayed.' He held up his hands,
cutting off her protest. ‘Your brother is aware how long it takes to get back from Newcastle and the hazards on the road. How many times has your brother arrived home later than first anticipated?'

‘I suppose you are correct.' Diana swallowed hard. The image of Brett and her together, limbs inter twined danced in front of her eyes. She screwed them up and banished it. He had said rooms—plural. She had to concentrate on being sensible. What had been between them had flared briefly and then vanished. All that remained were the embers of a friend ship.

‘I know I am correct. It is beyond my control.'

‘It seems so pat—the rake and the broken carriage. My brother may fear for my reputation.'

‘You were the one who grabbed my arm. Perhaps I should fear for mine.' He gave a half-smile. ‘I made a promise to your brother. I will protect you.'

‘What exactly has happened to the carriage?' Diana wrapped her arms about her waist. ‘Will it take long to fix? A delay of an hour or two will not make too much of a difference. We can still arrive back when it is not too late.'

‘One of the wheels has come loose and the horses have suffered a bad fright. It would be folly to continue on today.'

But was it folly to remain here?
Somehow their fate had been decided against her plea. She seemed to be drawn inexorably into his arms. And she knew that this time, her heart would go with her.

‘I see.' Diana tightened her hold on her reticule. ‘It is important to make sure the carriage is adequately fixed. I would hate to be delayed longer.'

‘It would be far worse if we set out with it in ill repair.'
Brett's fingers tightened on her elbow, leading her away from the carriage and towards the Angel and its creaking sign. ‘There are some risks I refuse to take.'

‘T
here you go, hinny, a nice cup of tea to restore you.'

Diana gave the landlady a trembling smile. She cautiously took a sip and allowed the hot strong sugary brew to wash through her system. Although the tea was far sweeter than she would normally take it, it had a restorative effect. ‘It is very fine.'

‘A good cup of tea does a body good, despite what the doctors say.' The landlady smoothed her skirts. ‘There is nothing like a singing kettle to put me in a good mood.'

Diana gazed about the room. It was simple but comfortable. Far more than she had hoped for. A small fire glowed in the grate and there was even a mirror over the dressing table. She set the cup down on the small table next to the armchair.

‘Yes, I like a cup of tea.'

‘You looked like the sort.' The landlady bustled around the room. ‘Your man has ordered a private meal for you. He thought you might find it easier. We tend to get a few drovers come through on their way home from the Hexham cattle market. They are harmless, mostly.'

‘Thank you.' Diana held back the words explaining that Brett was far from being her man. Neither did she like to think about the few cattle drovers who were not harmless.

‘It is good that you have someone like that looking after you.'

Diana took a careful sip of her tea. ‘Yes, he has his uses. Were there enough rooms for him?'

The woman gave her a sharp look and Diana cursed her tongue. ‘He will be in the stables. It is the proper place for coachmen.' She gave a loud sniff as if she had heard about Diana riding up beside him, rather than within the carriage.

Diana fought the temptation to laugh. It was probably better that Brett had done that. If it became known that Lord Coltonby and she had become stranded, she doubted that anyone would believe the innocence of it. But the landlady's outrage at the merest suggestion that a coachman should have a private room threatened to send her into fits of barely sup pressed laughter. No doubt, it would be a story that would be chewed over and over again by Brett's friends. How he had outwitted a landlady and made her believe he was a coachman.

‘Yes, it is the proper place for a coachman. Hopefully the carriage will be speedily repaired. I wish to continue on with my journey tomorrow.'

‘You should be able to. It didn't sound too bad and Joe the black smith is a right good one.' The landlady dropped her voice. ‘At first I worried that you and he might be escaping to the Headless Cross at Gretna Green. There are quite a few couples who come this way, you know. And I don't want any midnight knocking on doors. I run a respectable establishment.'

‘We were returning my nephew to his school in Newcastle, and I am on my way home.'

‘You can't be too careful. Still, I could see why you might be tempted with that one. He has a very fine manner for a coachman.'

‘I think I am far too old to be contemplating such behaviour.' Diana shifted uneasily. Brett could never come up here to her room. The gossip would spread through the village and from the village to other areas—all speaking about the lady in the yellow carriage who had entertained her coachman. He had promised to safe guard her reputation.

‘You're only too old, when you're dead.'

Diana opened and closed her mouth several times. ‘I think it would be best if I waited in the parlour. I want to know the extent of the carriage's damage and how long it will take to repair. Please inform him of my request when he returns.'

The woman appraised her. A crafty gleam came into her eye and Diana shifted un comfortably, feeling the heat grow on her cheeks. She had not made a decision yet. All she knew was that she did not want to wait in her room like some short-heeled wench who only needed the gentlest of pushes to fall on her back. ‘Aye, there is one. You can wait there if you like.'

‘I would prefer it. It is more seemly, somehow.'

‘More seemly. Aye, it is that.'

She followed the woman down to the back parlour. The landlady bustled about the room, straightening the pillows on the sofa. Another pot of tea and plate of short bread were produced and placed in front of the fire. The landlady held out a claw-like hand as her eyes became crafty. ‘I will need extra for the room. For your privacy. You won't want disturbing, will you?'

Diana kept her back straight as she gritted her teeth. Always money. She dug into the bottom of her reticule and held out a few coins. The woman frowned, but pocketed them. ‘Once I have spoken to my coachman, I will return up to my room.'

Then she politely but firmly turned the conversation towards the inn and when the mail coach would leave in the morning. If the carriage had not been fixed, she knew she would have to leave anyway.

‘And would you like me to send up the scullery maid to help you with your clothes when you are ready?'

‘Thankfully, I am wearing a simple gown so I shall manage myself.' Diana kept her chin high.

The landlady gave a nod and tapped her nose. ‘I will let your man know where you are when he comes in.'

‘I appreciate it.' Diana sat down, and began sipping her tea as she watched the coals burn brightly in the parlour's fire.

The coals had become embers, but Brett had still not appeared or sent word. She picked up the poker and stirred the fire. It erupted into a glorious blaze of colour, but soon burnt down. An indication of her relationship with Brett? A brilliant blaze of intense heat and then nothing?

She glanced out of the window and saw the night had drawn in. To her right, the distant clangs of the bar sounded as more and more men gathered. And even though she knew it was silly to wish it, she felt disappointed that Brett had failed to come to see her. He had to have been finished with the black smith by now. The sky only held the few last remaining rays of sunlight. No one worked that late. She dug her nails into the palm of her hand. He was avoiding her. Once again she had misread every thing. This journey had been about his promise to Robert, rather than him seeking to repair their damaged friend ship.

She lifted the bell, ready to ring for the landlady and to have protection going up the stairs. When she next encountered Brett, she would be distant. Today had taught her the necessity of that. This long agonising wait, this point less wait—and for what?

Her whole life seemed to stretch out in front of her, grey and colourless, as she grew ever older and eventually even Robert and Simon would stop needing her.

Today's accident had taught her how quickly things could change. How precious life was. It was strange that Simon never saw that. All he seemed obsessed with was creating this engine and making it move. His brush with death had only made him more stubborn, but hers had changed her.

She gave one last glimpse at the dying fire. She wasn't willing to sit there waiting any longer.

Heavy foot steps sounded in the hall. Her hand stilled, waited for the footstep to move onwards.

A discreet knock echoed in the room. Diana tilted her head. The foot steps weren't right. Should she answer the door? The knock came again, this time heavier and more impatient. She opened it a crack and a heavy-set man stood there, swaying and grinning. She went to slam the door, but he stuck his fingers out and caught it.

‘You don't have protection.' His words were slurred and the stench of beer assaulted Diana's nose. ‘A woman such as yourself should have protection.'

His words sent shivers down her spine. He should have said lady, not woman. What did he take her for?

‘I would suggest you return to the bar or wherever you came from.' Diana stood blocking the doorway. She measured the distance from the door to the fire grate and the poker. Did she dare run for it? ‘I am waiting for someone. He will not be best pleased to see you.'

‘I think you want company.' The man wiped his hand across his mouth. ‘Women like you always want company. Mrs Dawkins thought you might, seeing as you was still here.'

Women like her? Diana blinked. He had made a serious mistake, but she had made a worse one. She had thought herself safe in this room.

‘You will leave this instant.' Diana used her sternest voice and pointed in the direction of the bar.

‘I like them feisty.'

He started towards her. Diana backed away. One step at a time. She would prevail and when she emerged, she would never ever have anything to do with Brett Farnham again. Respectable inn? Hah!

‘I am asking politely—go now, please.'

‘How are you going to make me, a little scrap like you?'

She reached behind her and her hand closed over the poker. She drew a breath and summoned her courage. She would have one chance, one blow. She lifted the poker slightly, adjusted her handgrip, steadied her legs. ‘Go.'

‘The lady has asked you to leave. Politely,' Brett's lazy voice drawled. ‘I recommend you take up her suggestion.'

Diana felt the poker slip from her hands. Brett was here, lounging against the door frame. His body appeared relaxed, but his eyes burnt with a steely determination.

‘And if I don't?'

‘I will not be responsible for the state of your short-term health.'

‘You southerners are all alike. You think you can come up here and make a big noise. All wind and no bottle.'

‘I wouldn't concentrate on thinking. It is not a drunkard's strong point.'

‘Are you insulting me?' The heavy ox turned, balling his anvil-like fists.

‘You were insulting the lady.' Brett straightened his cuffs, as a sardonic smile twisted his lips. ‘I returned the coin with interest.'

The man pursed his lips and flexed his huge hands. ‘Someone ought to teach you manners. You ought not to talk to your betters like that.'

‘It is amazing how we think alike.' Brett's fist connected with the under side of the man's jaw, sending him reeling back wards. ‘I did warn him.'

‘Did I say a word?' Diana kept her eyes on the fight, but tried to grab the poker again.

The man staggered back, shook his great bull-like head and rushed forwards, fists flailing. Brett easily side stepped him. The man stopped and then turned, meeting Brett's next punch in his stomach. He doubled over. ‘Here, there was no cause to do that,' he spluttered.

‘We appear to have a difference of opinion about that.' Brett blew on his knuckles.

‘I was going. There is only way out of the room, unless I go by the window,' the man pro tested.

‘Do not tempt me.'

‘I was only trying to protect this here piece of fancy.'

‘Go, please go.' Diana gestured towards the door. ‘Do not make it worse on yourself.'

‘But this is the room Mrs Dawkins always puts her girls in. Always the parlour when one of them's free.'

‘Not tonight.'

The man seemed to sober. His eyes travelled between Diana and Brett. ‘I appear to have made a mistake.'

‘Do not compound it by remaining.'

The man started towards the door, mumbling.

‘Apologise to the lady. And kindly inform Mrs Dawkins
that this lady is not to be disturbed for the rest of the evening.'

‘I am very sorry, but she was asking for it.' The man looked truculent. ‘Can I go now?'

Brett grabbed the lapels of the man's coat, stared him in the eye.

‘You will humbly crave her pardon. You will never do such a thing again.' Then he released the man's lapels.

‘I humbly whatever he says.' The man practically ran out of the room. His foot steps could be heard clumping down the hall.

Brett shut the door with a decisive click, locking it behind him.

‘Is it over?' Diana whispered and brought the poker around in front of her. Her fingers refused to let it go. ‘I was frightened.'

‘It is over,' Brett said. ‘The man was drunk. He didn't know what he was saying.'

‘But do you think that landlady rents out this room as…as…?'

‘I didn't enquire.' He ran his hand through his hair. ‘You were supposed to be up in your private room, away from this.'

‘The landlady seemed disapproving, and I wanted to find out about the carriage.' She was aware that her cheeks were flaming. ‘I could hardly ask her to send my coachman up. What would she think? It would not have been seemly.'

‘So you came down here to this room.'

‘How was I to know? I expected you back long before now.'

Brett came over. His hand closed around hers. Gently he removed the poker. ‘You should return to your room.'

‘Yes, I should.' Her feet refused to move. ‘Will you escort me there?'

He raised an eyebrow. ‘If you think it necessary—I doubt your gentleman caller will return in a hurry. Shall I ring for the land lady?'

‘I don't think there is any need to bother Mrs. Dawkins.' She ran her tongue over her parched lips and hoped he'd understand. ‘The inn appears full tonight.'

‘As you wish.'

He held the door open and she went out of the little room. Her heart pounded so loudly that she thought he must hear it. She led the way up the narrow back passage and heard him follow her. She breathed more easily when she had reached her room, opened the door and gone in. A few remaining coals glowed faintly in the gloom.

He bent over the embers, stirred them up and placed more coal on top. The fire blazed into life, sending shadows playing on the walls. ‘It will take the chill off the room.'

Diana stood watching him. She noticed how his muscles moved under his coat. ‘Thank you.'

‘Think nothing of it.' He stood in front of the fire. ‘I came back from the blacksmith's to discover this—the entire inn full of drunken drovers. It was not what I had envisioned.'

‘You weren't to know.'

‘I should have considered.' His mouth became a thin white line. ‘How did he get into the parlour?'

‘He knocked. I thought it might be you. The landlady said that she would tell you where I was and that I wanted to speak with you.' Diana gave a half-shrug. ‘He put his foot in the door, and…this is all my fault.'