Miss Carlyle's Curricle: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) (21 page)

Mrs. Southworthy breathed a sigh of relief. “You are a good boy, Lionel,” she said again, and nibbled the biscuit he put in her hand.

“You may call me Gavin,” the earl said, making his voice gentle. “I will not hurt you, but have come to call upon you and have tea. I like tea and biscuits, do not you?”

The woman’s face brightened. “Yes, I like many kinds of biscuits, and Cook makes all the kinds I like.” The vicar shot a surprised and grateful look at him, his shoulders losing their stiffness.

Gavin stayed for another quarter of an hour, conversing on simple topics which Mrs. Southworthy might understand. He stood, finally, and the vicar rose as well. He gazed at the earl, and his posture stiffened once again.

“I will understand it if you wish me to resign my position,” he said firmly. “I would not blame you. The shame of it—” His mouth closed tightly for a moment. “I could have said something before this, but I did not.” He sighed, and smiled wryly. “It is a relief to reveal it at last. At least I have that.”

Gavin stared at him for a long moment. “There was nothing a boy could do,” he said. “Not with a mother to protect.”

Vicar Southworthy gazed at him and mutely shook his head. The earl held out his hand, and Southworthy took it. The man’s hand trembled for a moment, then clasped the earl’s firmly.

“Thank you, my lord,” he said. “Thank you.”

The Earl of Brisbane merely nodded, then turned away. As he untied his horse, he glanced through the parlor window to see the vicar patting his mother’s hand, and helping her up again. Next quarter-day, he thought, the vicar would get an increase in his living. At the very least, his mother needed a new dress.

A sudden sound of hoofbeats caught his ear, and a flash of blue caught his eye.

Diana! Gavin gazed grimly at the retreating figure galloping away on her horse. What the devil was she doing here? Listening, possibly, though he never thought her the type to eavesdrop. He quickly mounted his horse and spurred it to a gallop. He wondered how much she had heard, and what she would make of it. Well, he would be sure to find out.

Chapter 14

Diana rode as swiftly away from the vicar’s house as she could, but she was certain Gavin had seen her. She had stayed too long, listening to the conversation between Mr. Southworthy and the earl. She cast a quick glance behind her—yes, Gavin was following her.

She let out an exasperated breath. He had seen her, therefore it was useless to ride off, thinking he would not catch up with her. He would, of course, if not here, then at home. She slowed her horse to a canter, then a trot, then at last to a stop, and watched him as he rode up to her.

He sat silent on his horse for a moment, as if waiting for her to give some sort of excuse for eavesdropping. But she refused to be the first to speak, and merely gazed at him.

“Well, madam?” he asked.

She raised her brows. “Well?”

“You were eavesdropping, were you not?”

“And if I were?”

An annoyed expression flashed upon his face. “You need not listen at doors; if you need to know anything, I shall tell you.”

“Oh, really?” Diana retorted. “I seem to remember I had to hold you down this morning before you would tell me about the scars on your back. I cannot hold you down every time I ask a question.”

He grinned suddenly. “You could try. And think how well it worked. I told you, did I not?”

She remembered how she had done it, and her face grew hot. She had been . . . uninhibited the night before, and that morning; it was not fair of him to remind her and put her to the blush. Eyeing him sternly, she said, “Nevertheless, it is not something I can do all the time. It would not be proper. If you will not tell me any other way—and do not deny that you don’t put me off, because you do!—then I am left with eavesdropping.”

His face grew annoyed again. “I shall tell you when I see fit.”

Her hands clutched her reins in anger, and her horse moved uneasily. “I shall be the judge of that. If it concerns your safety, mine, or that of our people, then I should know, and I
shall
find out, one way or another. You might as well tell me everything from the start.”

A shuttered look entered his eyes. It was as if he had closed himself off from her, and she felt suddenly alone. Her anger flared again, however: she would not again live in ignorance of what was going on around her. For all that she had loved her uncle as if he had been her own father, she had learned his way of keeping people in ignorance was not necessarily to their benefit. She would not allow it to happen to her again.

“Very well,” she said. “You need not tell me. I can do very well on my own.” She smiled ironically. “You forget, I have discerned things before, quite accurately. I can do so again.”

“Oh?” His voice was skeptical, deliberately so, she believed, because she could see the uneasiness in his eyes. Her anger faded, and she almost smiled. One way or another, she would get her way, because it was the
right
way.

“Indeed.” She turned her horse toward Brisbane House, and he turned his alongside hers. “I will not deny I overheard what Mr. Southworthy said, poor man.” She paused, thinking of what had been revealed. She had known the vicar lived with his mother, but she had only glimpsed her occasionally, for the woman was very reclusive. Gavin had been very gentle with her, and indeed with Mr. Southworthy. Any other man might have exacted some revenge on the spot, she thought. She suppressed a smile. Her husband was more softhearted than he would probably admit.

“And from it,” she continued, “I can conclude that it was probably not Mr. Southworthy or his father who caused my uncle’s accident or . . . McKinney’s death.”

“It may still be our vicar,” Gavin said, and his eyes watched her, as if watching for a way to catch her out on her reasoning. “He is still in line for the inheritance. Perhaps he killed McKinney because the groom knew how he had done it.”

“No, I think it would most likely be Sir James,” she said. “I had thought he tried to disturb our wedding so that he could bring attention to himself—he has done something like that in the past, after all—but it is probably because he does not like the idea that a marriage would mean more trouble for him. I might be breeding, after all.”

Gavin gave her a sharp look, and she grinned.

“No, I have no idea if I am, for it has been too short a time. Even
I
know that.”

A small smile turned up his lips for a moment, then he sobered. “But you could be, and that puts you in more danger than ever, Diana.” He gazed at her, his eyes frustrated. “It was for that reason I did not want to marry you. Unmarried, you would have been no impediment to his succession. You would have been safe.”

A sharp shock of fear went through her—she had known it, of course, but to hear Gavin say it made it more real than she had wanted it to be. She swallowed, then lifted her chin. “There is nothing we can do about that now . . . except, I suppose, have Sir James arrested.”

Gavin shook his head. “No, there is no evidence; just his presence at your uncle’s accident, and his presence at other races that went awry.”

“But he must have won a great deal of money at each one,” Diana said. “That would be evidence, would it not?”

He shook his head again. “No, for so did others. Anyone might have done it.”

Diana thought over the matter, her hands growing tight on the reins. Her horse stopped and when she loosened the reins began to crop grass. “Well, then, we shall have to trap him,” she said slowly. “Yes, perhaps have another race, and see if he does anything.” She looked at Gavin. “I could do it. I could be in the race, and then you could—”

“No!” The fury in his voice made his horse shy and it took a moment before he had it under control. “That is the most stupid idea I have ever heard. If I am not mistaken, your uncle tried the same thing, and I would not be surprised if McKinney was involved in the plan as well, which no doubt was precisely why he was killed. He must have found out who it was.”

“Ah!” Diana said, and smiled smugly, for she had at last made her husband reveal his thoughts upon the matter.

“Damn!” he said, as realization dawned on his face. He pressed his lips together in frustration. “You are an impossible woman, Diana!”

She grinned. “No, no,” she said. “Formidable. You said so, yourself.” She quickly shook her reins and her horse came to attention. “And I think my idea is a very good one.” She dug her heels into her horse, and it sprang into a gallop.

A curse sounded behind her, and she laughed, for this time she was not the one at the disadvantage. She rode her horse into the stables, and after she handed the horse to the stableboy, she ran into the house, surprising Mr. Goldworthy in conversation with her mother.

She stopped, greeted them politely, and noted her mother’s flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. A glance at Mr. Goldworthy showed his usual cheerful countenance, but whenever he looked at her mother, his gaze softened. The thought occurred to Diana that perhaps her mother liked Mr. Goldworthy very much indeed; she felt odd about it, for she had never thought her mother might have an affection for a man after her father died . . . except for her Uncle Charles. Past images, words, thoughts clicked in Diana’s mind, and her eyes widened. Could it be that—

“Diana!” Gavin’s voice—a roar, more than a shout. Mr. Goldworthy’s brows rose, and Mama’s face grew worried.

“Excuse me, sir, and, Mama, but I think I must run,” Diana said, chuckling. She picked up her skirts and ran up the stairs to her room, closing the door and locking it.

There! She leaned against the door, hearing his footsteps pound up the stairs, and grinned. She would not let him in—it served him right to be frustrated, for he had frustrated her ever since she had met him, making her work for every bit of information she could get out of him. Well, she could be as stubborn as he.

The doorknob shook as he tried the door, and then the door itself shook when he pounded at it. “Damn it, Diana, you had better not start such a crazy scheme, or you shall be sorry for it, I promise you!”

She merely laughed, which caused more curses. Ah, vengeance was sweet!

Suddenly there was silence, and then the opening and closing of the door to Gavin’s bedroom—oh, no, the connecting door! She had never had one before, and had forgotten she had one now. Diana ran to it, and put her shoulder against it, but it was too late. The door was already open, and she was flung away from it from the force of Gavin’s push.

He strode to her and caught her as she stumbled, his face stormy. “Forget it,” he said, his voice harsh. “Forget that plan, because you will not be involved in it. I did not marry you and save your reputation just to see you killed.”

“If I plan carefully, I shall not be killed,” she said breathlessly. “It can work if we only do that.” She had suggested it flippantly at first, but she began to see it might work now that she thought more about it.

He held her tightly to him, and seized her chin with his hand. He said nothing for a moment, his gaze drilling into her. “You will not. I will not allow it. I do not let go of anything I have in my possession, and you are mine now, Diana. Never forget it.” He pressed his mouth hard upon hers, and she clutched his coat, opening her lips. Her heart beat fiercely, savagely, and a breathless, uncontrollable laugh escaped her when his lips went to her throat beneath the hastily opened riding habit. His anger did not frighten her, and she understood that it never had. He had never frightened her, no matter what he did, but she had discovered a wild exhilaration lived in her, and rose to the surface whenever he was near.

“I am only yours when
I
wish it, Gavin,” she said, her breath coming in gasps. “You may possess me by law, but nobody will tell me what to do. Nobody possesses me.”

He gazed at her with angry, slitted eyes. “You forget. I have been nobody for a long time.”

He kissed her again, and she wanted him, and his hands moved over her as quickly as did hers on him. Their clothes fell unheeded on the floor, making a bed for them. His entry was hot and hard, and she moaned and seized his face, kissing him wildly. His movements upon her were insistent, as if he wanted her to give in to him, to say she would not put herself in danger. But she only voiced the melting urgency that rose in her belly and the flash of almost unbearable heat, and said nothing in reply to his harsh groan of completion.

There was stillness except for their breathing, and slowly Gavin rose to his elbows above her and stared at her. She smiled gently, and kissed him again, slowly, sensually. A long sigh came from him, wafting over her lips. Again she kissed him, in case he should want to speak, and he began to touch her again.

He rolled to his side, and then lifted her in his arms, taking her to her bed. This time they loved slowly, his touch gentle and light, and he was long in finishing so that it became slow, pleasurable torture for her.

Perhaps in some way he believed she had given in, Diana thought, as she snuggled into his chest and listened to his even breathing, slowing into sleep. But she would not, for despite his insistence that she not be involved in the racing plan, she could tell from one moment of hesitation on his face when they were out in the fields that he thought the plan itself might have some merit.

Indeed, she would not be surprised if he tried it himself. It would be just the sort of thing he would do, she believed, for he had clearly been a man of risk and had endured hardship in his life. So she had managed to get out of Mr. Goldworthy, bit by bit, during their dinners and during evening gatherings in the drawing room.

But Gavin was the earl, and he should not be the one to risk his life. If he died, and nothing could be proven, then the title and lands would go to Sir James, if she were not already with child. But if she died, it would spare Gavin’s life for that much longer, and give him time to find some evidence against Sir James. She moved herself closer to Gavin, as if the press of his flesh against her could make her feel more secure.

She would not die, of course. She would plan it carefully—perhaps with the new groom, Nate Staples. When Gavin let it about that he would be racing against someone else, then Nate would tell her, and she would make sure it was she who would race, not Gavin. She sighed and closed her eyes. Her husband was very stubborn, but he would find she was more so than he.

***

Gavin woke slowly, opened his eyes, and gazed about the unfamiliar room. A warm softness moved against him—Diana. This was Diana’s room. He smiled, remembering their wild loving, very glad he had married her. His mind turned to her words about racing, however, and he frowned. She would not race in that curricle, of course, but her plan did have merit. It was better than waiting for Sir James to make a move. The man still skulked about the village, and had a room at a nearby inn. It was a good thing the wedding had been small, with only Mrs. Carlyle and Ned Goldworthy in attendance. Everyone had made sure that news of Sir James’s interruption did not leave the church walls, so there was no further scandal than there already had been, with McKinney’s death and the hasty wedding.

If he had a race—perhaps with Lord Jardien, who was known to be an excellent whip—then it would bring Sir James out to wager. He had heard that Sir James could never resist a wager.

Yes, and having Lord Jardien as his opponent would be perfect. The man was the local magistrate, and Gavin had told him all his concerns, and Mr. Goldworthy had told him everything he had found out in London as well. They had only strong suspicions, but firm evidence would ensure that Sir James would be eliminated entirely.