A Question of Impropriety
‘I am surprised that you troubled yourself with the recollection.’ Miss Clare gave a bright smile, but her hand played with the ribbons of her hideous cap. ‘It was most impertinent of me to bring the connection up. I was out of sorts from my difficulty with the gig. Please accept my apology for referring to the matter.’
Brett stared at her. Today all the life seemed to have gone out of her. The vibrant woman of yesterday had vanished and in her place was this shadow. How long had she been like that? And which was the true Miss Clare? He knew which one he preferred.
‘It is I who must apologise,’ he said at last. ‘That particular duel has long played on my mind. It should never have happened and I most sincerely regret that it did. Hopefully, it does not impinge upon your present circumstances. And although I once presented them in a letter, again let me offer my sincere condolences on your most grievous loss.’
‘Five years is a long time. I have quite recovered from the shock of it all, Lord Coltonby. You do not need to allude to the matter in oblique terms. I know my fiancé fought the duel over a courtesan. I had friends in London who took great pleasure in explaining it all. And I see no point in pretending that the duel did not take place.’
‘I regret your choice of confidants, then. It was supposed to be a private matter.’ Brett cleared his throat. It was all too easy to imagine. And even though this woman was innocent of any connection with the duel, people would have drawn their skirts back and whispered behind their hands. ‘Those concerned with Songbird’s death did everything in their power to keep the affair hushed. You must believe that. I know I never breathed a word.’
‘A death such as Algernon’s was never going to be private, Lord Coltonby.’ Diana kept her head erect, but her insides trembled. She had never spoken of the hours that had preceded Algernon’s death and she did not intend to start now, particularly not to a man such as Lord Coltonby. ‘Whatever was said about me years ago is long forgotten. The wags and the wits found fresh victims to flay.’
‘I can only recall pleasant things. You were quite right in thinking that we had been introduced before. I particularly remember Vauxhall Gardens. You commented on the brilliance of the fireworks.’
‘I did?’ Diana’s feet felt rooted to the ground. Ice crept down her spine. Had he been there as well? That fateful night before the duel? How close had he been? Had he heard her cries and mistaken them for pleasure? And what would he say if he knew the full truth behind that night? She pressed her fingers to her temple. She would have to hope that he meant some other night. ‘I have no recollection…’
Brett’s eyes became a soft grey as he shook his head. ‘Songbird was a scandal waiting to happen. He would never have done for a husband.’
‘I didn’t ask for anyone’s pity.’ Diana pressed her hands together. Privately she agreed with Lord Coltonby. But she could not make any excuses for Mrs Tanner, employed to keep fortune hunters away from her. The chaperon had failed miserably. ‘My only excuse was that I was naïve and unused to the ways of the world. No doubt most young women saw him for what he was. I only regret that my chaperon did not.’
Lord Coltonby’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘What a pity your friends did not speak up. His situation was no dark secret.’
‘The ton is not so forgiving when one is only clinging to the edge.’ She kept her head high and refused to allow the old feelings to swamp her. Calm. Tranquil. Her rules had protected her ever since that night at Vauxhall. She forced her mind to clear and then continued. ‘I much prefer the peace of Northumberland. Society here may be an altogether duller affair, but the quality and quantity are at least known.’
‘Why go to London in the first place?’
‘My father had his heart set on brilliant matches for his children. My late sister-in-law’s mother advised him to send me down there. I was to share the Season with her niece. Unfortunately the girl became ill and was forced to abandon the project. My father determinedly pressed ahead.’
‘Did your father take the disgrace well?’
‘My father died of lung fever, in the same epidemic that took Jayne. He never knew. When my brother’s letter arrived, my duty to return to Northumberland was clear.’ Even as she said the words, she knew they were a half-truth at best. Simon’s letter demanding her return had been a godsend, a chance to lick her wounds and to dedicate her life to being sensible and calm. It was wrong of her to think that their deaths had been providence, however much it felt that way. ‘I learnt my lesson the hard way, and have no regrets.’
‘No regrets.’ His eyes swept down her body, lingered on the neckline. ‘That is good. I had worried. Songbird would not have wanted it.’
She paused and smoothed out the lines of her green round grown. ‘Is there some other reason you called, Lord Coltonby? Surely it is not to reminisce over departed friends. I have turned my face towards the future. Life has been good to me.’
‘Your book, Miss Clare, as you did not call for it. I felt certain you had need of it now that you were safely home.’
‘My book.’ Diana stared at the volume and then back Lord Coltonby. ‘Of course, my book.’
She reached out to take it and their fingers touched. A small shock jolted her arm and she fumbled with the book, sending it tumbling towards the ground. Brett smoothly caught it and placed it gently on the small table.
‘I had expected you to send a note, as you held the advantage,’ he said into the silence.
‘I had no wish to trouble you or your servants with such a trifling matter,’ Diana breathed.
‘And here I thought you would want to see me again.’ His eyes became hooded. ‘We have unfinished business, you and I.’
‘We have no business.’ Diana cleared her throat, ready to send him on his way, before she asked him to stay. With every breath she took, that little reckless piece of her seemed to once again grow stronger. She had to slay it before it led her back down the road to ruin and scandal, a road she had blithely trod before. Her heart pounded in her ears.
‘I intend on teaching you to drive, Miss Clare. I have no wish to discover the roads cluttered with all manner of gigs and carriage simply because of your inattention.’
‘It will not happen again, I can assure you. In any case surely you will not remain in the neighbourhood for long. A few weeks at most.’
‘You know my schedule? Intriguing. Is this some party piece of yours? Or do you wish me ill?’
‘Sir Cuthbert always complained of being buried in the countryside,’ she said quickly to cover her faux pas. ‘He only spent a little time here each year.’
‘I am hardly Sir Cuthbert. His figure is far more rotund than mine. I do not think there is any danger of anyone mistaking us.’ Lord Coltonby smiled. Diana found it impossible not to answer his smile with one of her own. ‘I find the air very agreeable here.’
‘On that we hold the same opinion.’
‘Shall we be friends as well as neighbours? Put the past behind us?’
Diana drew in a breath. Friendship? Since when did a man like that seek friendship from a woman? ‘We are neighbours.’
‘And how shall we celebrate this neighbourliness? How shall we seal our friendship?’
Diana licked her suddenly parched lips. Sealed. The back of her neck prickled as a distant memory woke. Warned her. She held out her hand. ‘As a gentleman and a lady.’
He regarded her hand, and then his gaze lifted to her mouth, made it tingle under his gaze. A smile transformed his features. He reached out and touched her hand. Held it for a moment longer than strictly necessary. ‘A pleasure as always, Miss Clare.’
‘Welcome to Northumberland and the neighbourhood, Lord Coltonby,’ she said gravely, trying to ignore the sudden pounding of her heart, and withdrew her fingers.
‘I look forward to discovering everything Northumberland has to offer. To deepening our friendship.’
‘There are neighbours, and then there are friends.’
‘I trust we can be both.’
Diana adjusted the ribbons of her cap so it sat more squarely on her head. ‘My brother will be sorry he missed your visit.’
‘It gives me an excuse to come by another time.’ Lord Coltonby’s deep grey eyes met hers.
‘If you wish,’ Diana replied and made a mental note to add another rule—Lord Coltonby represented danger and was to be avoided. Her survival depended on it.
Chapter Three
‘Have you heard about the exciting development, Miss Clare?’ The tinkling tones of the Honourable Miss Miranda Bolt assaulted Diana’s ears as she left the circulating library the next morning.
Pride and Prejudice had been safely returned to the library, and Diana had no reason to even think about her new neighbour. Her well-ordered life would go on as before. She would be able to concentrate on things like needlework and visiting the houses of the colliery’s employees, tasks that today held about as much appeal as getting her teeth pulled. But good tasks, worthwhile ones.
‘What news? What has happened?’ Diana asked cautiously as she turned to greet the impeccably dressed Miranda Bolt. Already she could feel a distinct pain behind her eyes. ‘Is it anything untoward, Miss Bolt?’
‘Positively the most important thing that has happened in the district for the last century.’ Miss Bolt gave a toss of pale yellow curls. Her tiny mouth quivered with excitement. ‘My parents are to give a ball in honour of our new neighbour. I fainted when I heard the news. Mama had to call for the smelling salts. Papa has agreed to the ball.’
‘You mean the most important thing to happen to the district since the Napoleonic War.’
‘War is utter tedium and boredom.’ Miss Bolt gave a tiny shrug of her shoulders. ‘The only good part is the number of men in uniform. Both Carlisle and Newcastle are full to the brim with soldiers. Lovely, lovely red coats and gleaming buttons. They add such colour to a party.’
‘We received our invitation yesterday.’ Diana forced her face to stay bland. Penning her regrets was a task for this afternoon. Simon might go if he liked, but she would find a reason to avoid the ball. She always did.
‘You and your darling brother must come. You missed the St Nicolas Day ball in Newcastle last Christmas and you must not miss this one.’ Miss Bolt gave a clap of her hands. ‘I knew if it was in the neighbourhood, all the eligible bachelors would come. I shall be quite in demand. I told Mama that. A woman who is in demand soon attracts the eye. It is only a matter of time before I make a brilliant match, one which is well suited to my station. Forgive me, Miss Clare, if you think me proud, but I only speak the truth.’
‘Indeed.’ Diana’s jaw tightened and she forced her smile to remain in place.
‘It would be so lovely if we had more entertainment in the district. Then, we should not have to venture quite so far afield in search of culture.’ Miss Bolt stuck her chin in the air. ‘Culture is very important to me. It is the foundation of society.’
‘You are forgetting about the Grand Allies routs. And the Sarsfields’ musicales.’ The idea that the Bolts were the final arbiter of culture in the Tyne Valley grated on Diana’s nerves. They had only arrived here when Sir Norman’s great-aunt had died and he had finally come into his inheritance. ‘The elder Miss Sarsfield plays the spinet beautifully.’
‘True, true, but I thought her Chopin was a bit sharp last week. It laid waste to poor Mama’s eardrums.’ Miss Bolt tapped a finger against her mouth. ‘There again, you were absent, weren’t you?’
‘Unavoidable. One of the servants had come down with a chill.’ Diana forced her lungs to fill with air. The excuse was threadbare, but she had discovered it was far easier to keep to her rules if she avoided entertainment wherever possible. ‘It sounded pleasant enough to me when I heard the dress rehearsal.’
‘Dear Miss Clare, if you could but hear what passes for music in the great drawing rooms of London…’
‘I have been to London, Miss Bolt.’ Diana held back a stinging retort. A lady must be polite, but Miranda really was insupportable. ‘I even managed to attend several musicale evenings there when I had my Season.’
‘The London Season. I have tried and tried to convince Mama of the necessity of a London Season. A proper one, with vouchers to Almack’s.’ Miss Bolt put her hand to her mouth. ‘My dear Miss Clare, I nearly forgot how trying the mention of London and the Season must be to you. Mama has warned me and warned me, but my tongue goes flippety-flop.’
‘Why should the mention of London be trying?’
‘You know the disaster.’ Miss Bolt lowered her voice and her blue eyes shimmered as she put a hand briefly on Diana’s elbow, a show of false concern. ‘Every time I think about it I want to weep. Mama remarked on it the other day and how it should be a lesson for me, a lesson I intend to take to my heart. Dear, dear Miss Clare, when I go to London, I shall be a success. I will not be a wallflower.’
‘I wish you every opportunity.’
‘And I will take every single one, I can assure you of that. I am meant for a viscount or an earl at the very least. It is too bad that the royal dukes are so very old.’ Miss Bolt gave her curls a little pat. ‘With my looks, breeding and Papa’s fortune, a title should be within my grasp.’
‘One should always aim for the attainable.’
‘How very witty of you. The attainable, not the unattainable. I will remember that. I collect witticisms so that I can repeat them to my friends.’ Miranda Bolt gave another trill of laughter. ‘There again, did you?’
‘Did I what?’ Diana stared at Miranda Bolt. Was Miss Bolt entirely without reason this morning? The young woman seemed intent on ignoring all of Diana’s attempts to end the conversation.
‘Aim for the attainable,’ Miranda Bolt replied with maddening complacency. ‘Is that why it was a disaster?’
‘My situation hardly compares to yours.’ Diana gritted her teeth. ‘I returned to Northumberland for family reasons.’
‘It must be so hard getting old.’ Miss Bolt tilted her head to one side and gave her parasol a twirl. ‘Every broken sleep shows. Mama told me. It is why I take such care with my complexion.’
Diana counted very slowly to ten. Passionate emotion was the enemy of reason, but the thought of Lady Bolt and her odious daughter pitying her after all these years was insupportable. ‘I believe your mother will be looking for you.’
‘Mama is always searching for me. It is part of our little game.’ Miss Bolt gave a gasp and a tremulous giggle as she lifted her reticule. ‘Is that…? Can it be Lord Coltonby’s carriage?’
Diana felt a prickling at the back of her neck and turned to see a smart yellow curricle. A tiger held the heads of two sleek bay horses. The lines of the horse proclaimed speed and the need for a firm hand on the ribbons. ‘It may be.’
‘He made his own fortune, you know,’ Miranda Bolt continued on, her cheeks becoming infused with pink. ‘Papa said that all he inherited when his brother died was a bankrupt title. Luckily Lord Coltonby had already won his fortune. He apparently has an eye for the horses. Papa is very much hoping to persuade him to support him in a business venture.’
‘Lord Coltonby is a force to be reckoned with.’
‘Have you met him? He is your nearest neighbour, after all.’ Miranda Bolt clasped her hands together. ‘I do think he is the most handsomest of men. He called on Papa the other day and we were introduced. Mama is most hopeful.’
‘How pleasant for you.’ Diana tapped her finger against her mouth, determined to make her voice sound casual, but to gently lead the subject away from Lord Coltonby. ‘The horses have good lines as well.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘It is the way they hold their heads and shift their feet. They have a bit of spirit. In the right hands that curricle would fly over the ground.’
‘I knew you would know about carriages and that sort of thing. I have heard Papa converse with you about them before.’ Miss Bolt gave a little wave of her hand as if discussing the speed of carriage and horses were somehow slightly outré. ‘I will confess that they bore me senseless. All a carriage does is get you from one place to another and wild horses scare me. But if they are Lord Coltonby’s passion, I suppose I must assume an interest. It will be expected.’
‘Horses are noble creatures. They deserve better than the conditions they are currently subjected to.’ Diana tightened her grip on her reticule. Rules. An accepted mode of behaviour. She must not give way to her anger and keep within the bounds of society. It was the only thing that protected a lady. Why did she always come so close to forgetting the basic precepts of etiquette in Miss Bolt’s presence? Diana strove to keep her voice light and bland. ‘Do you know how many horses are lost because of the mail coaches each year?’
‘Mail coaches, Miss Clare, are a necessity.’ Miss Bolt looked down her nose. ‘How else would I know which regiments were in Newcastle?’
‘How, indeed?’ Diana hid a smile and felt the tension ebbing from her shoulders. She would now bring the conversation to a close and everything would be well.
‘I do believe he has glanced this way.’ Miss Bolt rapidly smoothed her skirt and readjusted her bonnet. ‘Mama says that his fortune exceeds that of Lord Allendale and Lord Carlisle combined. Mama is always right about such things. Marriage is not something that should be left to the young. She is singularly determined.’ Miss Bolt gave another trilling laugh. ‘But I forgot, dear Miss Clare, you are unlikely to marry. The ever-so-sensible Miss Clare. Does it pain you when other people speak of marriage?’
‘It does not affect me in the slightest, Miss Bolt. I take little notice of such things. If you will forgive me, Robert requires a few sweetmeats from the grocer’s. He particularly asked for candied peel in his last letter.’ Diana started to move away from Miss Bolt, but the young woman clutched Diana’s arm.
‘Wait, please, Miss Clare. Your dear sweet nephew can have his things later. My need is at present the greater one.’
‘Miranda Bolt, kindly contain your gesticulations.’ Diana stared in astonishment at the young woman. And slowly Miss Bolt released her vice-like grasp. Diana rubbed her arm, trying to get the blood to flow again.
‘If I have given offence, I most humbly beg your pardon, but please remain here with me.’ A faint glimmering of tears shone in Miss Bolt’s eyes. ‘Do not desert me in my hour of need!’
‘Why? What is so urgent? What disaster can possibly befall you on Ladywell’s High Street?’ Diana struggled to contain her temper. She started to fumble in her reticule. ‘Are you feeling unwell? Do you need smelling salts?’
‘Lord Coltonby is going to acknowledge me. I know he is. He is coming towards me. We met the other day when he called on Papa. It was a very brief meeting, but somehow I knew.’ She gave a huge sigh. ‘It is in the way he says hello. And he is attainable, I know he is.’
Diana’s hand stopped halfway out of her reticule. Someone had to warn the girl before she did something foolish, before she made a life-altering mistake. Rakes only brought scandal. ‘Miss Bolt, Lord Coltonby is definitely not one of the attainables. You will have to trust my judgement on this matter.’
‘We shall see.’ Miss Bolt nodded towards where Lord Coltonby had emerged from the livery stables. His black coat contrasted with the cream of his breeches. He appeared every inch the gentleman, but there was something more in the way he moved, something untamed, something that called to her. Diana forcibly wrenched her gaze away and filled her lungs with steadying breaths. She tried to remember all the reasons why Lord Coltonby was dangerous, and found she could only think of his smile.
‘It does appear that he is coming towards us, but it could be that he wishes to visit the circulating library.’ Diana prayed he would nod, acknowledge them both and move on. A civilised way out of her predicament.
‘My knees grow weak. Mama will be ecstatic.’ Miss Bolt hurriedly pinched her cheeks and straightened her gown. ‘To be favoured in this way by Lord Coltonby. Do you know how far his lineage stretches back? Mama had me learning it the other night. Fortune favours the well prepared.’
‘You hardly need me here.’ Diana prised Miss Bolt’s fingers from her sleeve. ‘Your mama has brought you up properly. Eschew the vulgar and you will prosper.’
‘I have heard of his reputation and do not wish him to say anything untoward,’ Miss Bolt whispered. ‘Mama insists that there always be a witness. A woman of quality cannot be too careful, particularly when she means to catch an earl.’
Diana pressed her lips together, holding back the words of warning. Poor foolish Miss Bolt. She had never expected to feel pity for the young woman. Someone needed to explain about the consequences of trying to capture a rake. Someone—but not her. Miss Bolt would dismiss her as a jealous spinster. And what could she say without betraying her own experience?
Diana wrinkled her nose and looked again at the figure striding towards them. His top hat shrouded his expression. The only thing she could do was to try to subtly protect Miss Bolt. It was her duty.
‘You always have a choice, Miss Bolt. Your mother will not be the one married to him.’
‘But will I make the right decision? My future husband needs to be someone special, someone who will put me on a pedestal.’ She shook her head. ‘It is a matter that vexes me nightly. I must marry well, Miss Clare. A title or a fortune, preferably both. It is expected. Mama will not have it any other way. And sometimes I dream of dashing redcoats and faraway places.’
‘Sometimes, the unexpected happens.’ Diana kept her voice carefully neutral, but felt her throat tighten around the last words. Suddenly she wanted Miss Bolt to experience happiness. ‘Hold fast to your dreams, Miss Bolt. Never settle for second best.’
Miss Bolt gave a small squeak in response and grabbed Diana’s arm again.
‘Ah, Miss Clare, how delightful to see you again.’ Lord Coltonby captured Diana’s hand and brought it to his lips. He held it there for an instant longer than was proper. Diana gave a little tug. His thumb lightly caressed her palm as he released it. She was grateful that the shadow of her bonnet hid the sudden flame of her cheeks. She regarded his black boots, counted to ten and regained a measure of control.
‘Lord Coltonby. I have returned the book to the library. It will trouble you no further.’
‘I can only hope you enjoyed the ending as much as I did.’ His rich voice rolled over her. ‘I enjoy a happy ending.’
Miranda Bolt gave a soft cough and pointedly held out her hand. Her eyelashes fluttered and her soft blonde curls quivered. ‘Lord Coltonby, it is marvellous to see you again. Such an unexpected pleasure.’
‘Miss Bolt.’ Lord Coltonby inclined his head, but made no move to take the outstretched fingertips. ‘I trust your mother is well. The fruit basket she sent over was such a thoughtful, welcoming present.’
‘Mama will be so pleased.’ Miss Bolt swept into a deep curtsy. ‘She told me to ask specifically after your health if we should meet. She has several tonics that you might wish to try if the Northumbrian air proves to be too chilly…’
‘How kind of Lady Bolt. I have no need of attention at the moment.’
Diana breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps Miss Bolt was not in his sights. She could safely take her leave, if Miss Bolt would let her have a word.
As Miranda twittered on about the weather, Lord Coltonby languidly reached into his pocket and withdrew his snuffbox. Diana’s eyes narrowed and her body tensed as she remembered Algernon had once used that stratagem. Should she intervene? She could see Miss Bolt at war with herself over whether or not to take the proffered snuff. Diana gave a pointed cough and shook her head. Miss Bolt’s face fell, but she made no further move towards the snuffbox.