Miss Carlyle's Curricle: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) (11 page)

“You make me feel wild, Diana,” he said, his words hot upon the soft skin of her throat. “God help me, I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you.”

She could say nothing, caught up in the sound of his voice, the feel of his breath upon her skin, the touch of his fingers moving slowly upward from her waist to the side of her breast. Her own breath caught, then started again, fitfully, and she tried to swallow down the trembling that coursed through her. “Please—” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Please . . .” She did not know what she asked; it was the only word she could seem to say.

He stilled, his forehead resting in the crook of her neck, then slowly he raised his head to look at her. “I should ask you to marry me.”

Ask me
, cried a voice inside her.
Ask me.
The sensual fog slowly lifted from her mind, and she answered herself,
No, I hardly know him.

He sighed, shaking his head. He rose, half lifting her as he did, and then letting her slide down until her feet reached the ground.

“Why?” she blurted.

He grinned suddenly, and the sight of it twisted her heart. “I don’t think you would accept. And . . .” His grin turned wry. “I don’t think I deserve you.”

Diana moved a little away from him, anger and frustration lancing quickly through her. “Should I not be the one to determine that?” she said. “I have already determined we could be friends—” He shot her a surprised look. “Yes, friends. You have virtues I look for in a friend: certainly one of them is kindness. I have seen how you work to make my mother laugh—and I am grateful, for her spirits have lightened, and she has begun to eat more than she has been. I have been worried about her, you see, and she won’t listen to me when I try to make her eat more.” She touched his sleeve, lightly. “I am grateful.”

“I—you are welcome,” he said, suddenly seeming at a loss for words.

“Indeed, I agreed to this walk to learn more about you—” She broke off, a blush heating her face, thinking of what they had just been doing. “Not—not that!”

Lord Brisbane smiled slightly. “No? I thought you were curious.”

“I—I was,” she said honestly. “But I wished to know
you
better. I believe I know what all the kissing was about.”

His smile turned quizzical. “Do you?”

Diana nodded. “I have heard it from the stablehands when they thought I was not about and listening. It hasn’t anything to do with love, but with pleasure, and I know enough that it would not do to go very far into it, or else it will be like what the stallions do to the mares, and I shall begin to breed.” Diana made herself look at him, even though her face still felt warm. “I may be as wild as my uncle said I was, but I know enough not to cause such a scandal.” It was difficult to think of how humans might go about it, but the idea had occurred to her that it might be somewhat similar. She knew it was not something she should even be mentioning to him, but however much she did not care for society’s conventions, she was not willing to bear a child out of wedlock. She did not know, she realized, what he truly wanted of her, whether he wished to dally with her or marry her in earnest. He had said, over and over again, that he wished to marry her, but refused to propose. What was she to make of that?

She watched him warily—was he angry at her?—as his face grew suddenly red, and his lips pressed tightly together.

And then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. She frowned, wondering what he thought was so funny.

“Ah, Diana—” He wiped the tears from his eyes, then looked at her, and burst out laughing again. “Oh, God, only you, only you. If the thought of breeding stallions and mares isn’t enough to put off kisses, I don’t know what is.” He held out his hand. “Come, my dear, let’s be friends.” He glanced at the dimming sky. “If you are so concerned about scandal, then we should not stay here very long. And I promise you, I will keep scandal away from you as best I can.” She took his hand, he brought hers to his lips, and they walked out of the middle of the maze.

It only took a few minutes before Diana realized that Lord Brisbane had not faltered once in turning this way and that in the maze, and they were out before she had a chance to remember she was to call out to the servants for help. She gazed at him accusingly.

“You knew the key to the maze all along!” She pulled her hand from his arm. Oh, how irritating he was! He could have told her at the very beginning!

He gave her an apologetic look. “Well, yes. It is one of the things that goes along with being the Earl of Brisbane. I found it immediately among the estate papers.”

“Oh! See if I ever go into the maze with you again!” She stamped her foot on the grass, and moved away from him.

“Wait, Diana—”

She stopped, but did not turn around. Footsteps sounded behind her and then he came around and gazed at her solemnly—almost. There was a twinkle in his eyes, and she tried very hard not to respond to it. “Diana, I took you there because I thought you would like it.”

There was a wistful note in his voice, and she could not help relenting. “Oh . . . very well. I did like it,” she admitted.

“I am glad,” he said simply, but his gaze fell on her lips.

“That does not mean I shall allow you to kiss me if we do go again into the middle of the maze,” she said.

“I understand,” he replied. “I will only kiss you if you allow it.”

Diana stared at him, frustrated. How was she to answer that? She hadn’t thought she would allow such things each time, but they had happened nevertheless. “I do not want any scandal about the two of us,” she said firmly.

“I promise you, our kisses will not cause any scandal,” he said promptly.

She let out a little growl—it seemed no matter what she said, it came around to kissing again.

“You are impossible!” she said, and gave him a burning look. His only response was a chuckle, and Diana felt she could do nothing but cross her arms before her and keep herself from looking back at him all the way to the house.

But when she finally stepped into her room, she realized she had not got him to tell her anything about himself at all. How odious he was! Diana thought, and tried not to think of how she had thought quite otherwise when they were in the maze.

Chapter 8

A large coach-and-four rumbled up to the front of Brisbane House two days before Lady Jardien’s musicale. It was a very fine one, a bit overwrought with decoration, Diana thought as she looked out of her chamber window, but very well-made nevertheless. It made her think of what Lord Brisbane had said of the workmanship of coaches and she knew at once the man who stepped down from the coach must be Mr. Edwin Goldworthy.

She hurried downstairs, telling a passing maid to send her mother to the drawing room and for a servant to bring refreshments. Only a few minutes passed after she entered the room before the butler opened the door, and Mr. Goldworthy was announced.

Diana liked him immediately. He was a large, burly man, with apple cheeks, a snub nose, and merry eyes. He was perhaps almost fifty; his graying hair was neatly arranged, as was his neckcloth. Though he dressed plainly, his clothes were well-tailored, if a little old-fashioned.

“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Goldworthy,” she said, holding out her hand. “I am Diana Carlyle, the late earl’s niece. I have ordered refreshment. I hope you do not mind that I have taken the liberty of assuming you would like some after traveling so far.”

“Aye, I would at that, thank you, miss,” he said, smiling gratefully as he bowed over her hand. “For it’s a trifle sharp-set I am, and as you see, there’s quite a bit of me to keep up.” He looked about the drawing room, his brows raised. “Well, it’s a fine bit of property Gavin has got himself, I must say.” Diana gestured him to a chair, but he grimaced and shook his head. “Nay, I’m still in my travel-dirt, I’m afraid, and would dirty the furniture.”

She smiled at him. “You need not worry; I have come in very dusty from outdoors many times myself, and so my mother has made sure to cover the furniture well.” She gestured at the embroidered cloths pinned to the chairs and sofa.

Mr. Goldworthy hesitated, eyed with distrust a chair that looked much too delicate for him, then sat in a sturdy armchair with a deep sigh. He was silent for a moment, then looked at her keenly. “Well, you’re the young lady Gavin—I suppose I should be calling him ‘his lordship’ now—has been telling me about.”

“Has he?” Diana said as indifferently as she could, and gave a surprised smile so that there would be no doubt there was nothing between herself and the earl.

“Not that he’s said
much
—he’s a closemouthed lad, for all his chatter.”

“So I have noticed.”

Mr. Goldworthy nodded knowingly. “A grand strappin’ wench, he said, one who’ll have none of him.” He leaned forward confidentially. “But I’ll tell you, lass, he’s a good ‘un, and you’ll not wish for a better man in a scrape.” He chuckled. “Aye, and I’m betting you’ll be more than a handful for him, and good for you, Miss Carlyle, for a milk-and-water miss could never bear his fits and starts. I’ll wager you’ll set him straight.”

Diana opened her mouth and shut it, unable to decide whether to laugh or be offended. But she looked at the man’s guileless eyes and cheerful smile, and found herself chuckling in return. “To be sure, I am not at all a milk-and-water miss, but I’ll not marry him. For one thing, he hasn’t proposed.”

Mr. Goldworthy rocked back in his chair and his blue eyes widened. “Well, and I never thought the lad backward, for he always did have a way with the—” An alarmed look flashed across his face. “Eh, never mind that!”

Unease mixed with amusement made Diana’s smile turn wry. But it occurred to her that she might get the best of Lord Brisbane after all, for she perceived Mr. Goldworthy to be unusually garrulous. A maid entered with tea and biscuits, and after Diana poured, she waved the maid away.

“So, Mr. Goldworthy,” Diana said, and smiled brightly, “have you known Lord Brisbane long?”

His anxious look fled, and he smiled widely. “That I have, miss, since he was a lad—fifteen, if I remember.”

But Mr. Goldworthy said no more, for the door opened once again, and he rose from his chair as her mother entered, and behind her, Lord Brisbane. The earl grinned and held out his hand. “Well, Mr. Goldworthy, I see you have arrived in fine shape.”

“Eh, Gavin my boy—er, my lord—it does my heart good to see you.” The man shook his hand warmly.

Lord Brisbane grimaced. “Not you, too. I swear if I hear you ‘milording’ me I’ll go into an apoplexy. I’m not used to it, Ned, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

Mr. Goldworthy nodded his head wisely. “Well, it’s a thing you’ll have to get used to, and soon, for you’ve got a right good business here on this property. You wear the title along with the business, I’m thinking.” He glanced at Mrs. Carlyle, who stood next to the earl.

“Ah, I have been remiss,” Lord Brisbane said apologetically. “May I present Mrs. Cecelia Carlyle? She is Miss Carlyle’s mother, and the widow of the late earl’s brother. Mrs. Carlyle, Mr. Edwin Goldworthy.”

Mr. Goldworthy sighed deeply as he bowed over Mrs. Carlyle’s hand. “A great pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He smiled at her. “A great pleasure, indeed.”

Mrs. Carlyle smiled in return, and Diana was surprised to see a light flush appear in her mother’s cheeks. “I thank you, sir,” replied Mrs. Carlyle. “I see my daughter has been entertaining you—do you wish for more refreshment?”

“Nay, it’s enough, thank you ma’am. I’ll need to see how the servants are unloading my trunks—” He turned to Lord Brisbane. “Which reminds me, my boy, I’ve fetched the boxes from Madame—”

“You’re a devilish rattle, Ned!” Lord Brisbane interrupted, frowning. “I tend to forget it when I’m away from you, but now that you’re here, I’m sure I’ll not tell you anything of importance for the whole of your stay.”

Mr. Goldworthy grinned, nudged the earl with an elbow, and winked at Diana and her mother again. “Never you mind him, ladies. Gavin pretends to have a poker up his—er, back, but he’s always been an openhanded chap, though you’d never hear him say so.” He gazed at the earl fondly. “Good as a son, he’s been to me, give you my word!”

Lord Brisbane rolled his eyes, and Diana bit her lower lip to suppress a giggle at his discomfort. She must definitely make a better acquaintance with Mr. Goldworthy. He was a font of information, and had no hesitation putting the earl to the blush. She watched the earl talk to his friend and her mother, and was content to observe. How amusing it would be to have Mr. Goldworthy about! Yes, if Lord Brisbane would not reveal anything about himself, Mr. Goldworthy certainly might. In fact, Diana thought, she would make sure he did.

***

Somehow, though Diana meant to talk to Mr. Goldworthy at some time between his arrival and Lady Jardien’s musicale, she rarely saw him except at dinner. Indeed, she rarely saw Lord Brisbane, either. Both of them had much business to discuss, apparently; Mr. Goldworthy was clearly some sort of merchant seaman, and Lord Brisbane clearly had an interest in his business, and from their conversation, it seemed that the earl had even worked for Mr. Goldworthy at one point. But she could get no other information from either of them; Lord Brisbane was as uninformative as ever, and Mr. Goldworthy only laughed and referred her to his friend whenever she asked questions.

Frustrated, she turned her thoughts to the work she was supervising at the stables, and inevitably thought of McKinney. There was still no sign of him, no word, and Diana could not help thinking that he had encountered some mishap. She hoped whatever it was, he was in good hands, and that he would return soon, or send some word about his condition. He would not have gone so suddenly without taking leave of her, or at least of the earl.

The clock chimed on the mantelpiece of her chamber fireplace; she had perhaps half an hour before she must begin to dress for the upcoming musicale. Despite the fact that Diana had gone to Lady Jardien’s house before, she did not care for parties and she could not help feeling a stupid anxiety about it. She would be stared at, and she hated it, for it made her feel like some freak of nature—awkward, even afraid. It would make her feel more confined than she did now.

She glanced out her chamber window—the sky was becoming dim—and she rang for her maid so as to begin dressing. She sighed impatiently, wishing she had more freedom, as much as any man might.

It was not that she rode about the estate any less, but that Lord Brisbane insisted she take a groom with her. She had not complied the first time, leaving before a groom could set out with her, but the uncomfortable look in the servant’s eyes when he did catch up with her and his apologetic determination to stay by her side made her realize that she was not going to escape.

She protested, but only a little. The earl was concerned for her safety, and coupled with McKinney’s disappearance, even she could see there might be good reason for his concern. Going to a musicale was not the same as riding a horse, of course, but it was going
elsewhere
and that at least was something.

A light knock at the door announced the maid, who entered at Diana’s “Come in” with a dress draped over her arms. Diana frowned.

“I do not recall asking for this dress, Annie—indeed, I do not think it is my dress at all, for I have never seen it before.”

The maid smiled shyly. “His lordship asked that you be given it, miss—a present. He’s given one to your mother as well. It’s straight from London, too.” She tenderly laid it on the bed, spreading out the skirts and smoothing out any wrinkles.

Diana stared at it, uncertain. She had never seen a dress like it. It was very beautiful, clearly an evening gown, but no one could say that to wear it would be disrespectful to Uncle Charles, for it was black, and very well suited to mourning. She shook her head. “No, I do not think I should wear it—it could not be proper for me to accept such a gift from Lord Brisbane.”

The maid looked disappointed. “I’m that sorry, Miss Diana.’Twould have looked right pretty on you, I’m sure.”

Another knock sounded on the door, and Diana’s mother entered in a rush, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, my dear, did he give you one, also? He is too, too generous!”

Diana gazed questioningly at her mother. “I am not sure we should accept them, Mama. Is it proper to accept such a gift from an unmarried gentleman?”

Mrs. Carlyle’s brows rose in surprise. “Well, I am glad you are thinking of the proprieties, Diana.” She worried her lower lip for a while in thought. “You may be right, for he
is
a distant relation . . . perhaps it would not do, though how kind of him to think of us!”

“Indeed, Mama,” Diana said, and could not help looking with some wistfulness at the dress laid out on her bed.

Her mother sighed, and turned to the maid. “Annie, do bring out the dress that we made from one of Miss Marling’s designs.” The girl nodded, and went to the wardrobe with reluctant steps.

When Diana was finally dressed for the evening, her mother nodded in a satisfied manner, but Diana barely kept herself from grimacing. The black frills at her shoulders made her look a yard wide, as did the white bows just under her bosom. It made her glad she had worn the stays that made her bustline smaller; she would have looked like a milch cow without them. The hem was lined with batting—the latest style, she had heard from Miss Marling herself—and stood out away from her feet. She looked for all the world as if she were some highly decorated and black-creped funeral bell.

“How pretty you look,” Mama said, and patted her daughter’s cheek. Diana smiled weakly. “Now, I shall put on my dress, and then we shall be ready, with at least half an hour to spare.”

Diana nodded, and when her mother left, she gazed at the dress Lord Brisbane had given her and sighed. It was beautiful, with puffed sleeves so tiny they hardly deserved to be called sleeves. The only relief from the severity of its cut was from the gold net overskirt and the gold bands along the bodice and the hem. But what could she do? She had felt distinctly uncomfortable thinking of her conversation in the maze, and how she had teased Lord Brisbane about asking for extravagances, and how he had said he would spend his fortune upon her. It had all been teasing, and yet here was this lovely dress, a thing a lady did not accept from a gentleman. She could not accept it, and had taken refuge in propriety. She sighed. How ironic it was that she now found propriety so convenient, where she had thought it very inconvenient before Gavin Sinclair arrived.

Her mother called to her at last, and Diana descended the stairs, hoping she could put on a pelisse before Lord Brisbane saw her. Her hope died aborning, however, for he was standing at the foot of the steps, impeccably dressed in black, his neckcloth a pure white, and his black knee breeches with one crease. He looked up at her, transferred his gaze to her mother, and frowned.

“Did you not receive the dresses I sent to you?” he said abruptly.

Her mother stopped, and looked confused. “I did, my lord, but—”

He smiled at her. “Not ‘my lord.’ ‘Gavin,’ if you please.”

She looked more flustered than ever. “Gavin, then. Well, we did receive the dresses, but we cannot accept them, I’m afraid.”

A sad, wistful look crossed his face. “You do not like them, then?”

“Oh, no, no!” Mrs. Carlyle said hastily. “They are lovely, to be sure! So beautiful.” She sighed longingly. “Indeed, I wish we could wear them, for I cannot help thinking they would suit us perfectly.”

“Do they not fit, then?” he asked. “I asked your maid for one of your old dresses and sent them straightaway to Madame LaSalle’s on Bond Street to pattern from.”