A Question of Impropriety

by Michelle Styles

  ‘I wanted to see if you can handle the ribbons. However, it is your choice. We can stay in the summer house if that is your desire.’ He reached out and covered her hand with his for a heart beat. A brief touch, but one that promised much… ‘Is that what you want? To remain here in the summer house with me discussing the weather?’

  Diana withdrew her hand as she gazed up into his eyes. It was strange how quickly the planes of his face had become familiar. Even his scar seemed pleasant, rather than foreboding as she had first considered it. The walls of the summer house seemed to push inwards, making the space between them shrink. Diana swallowed hard. ‘We could have a cup of tea.’

  ‘I am quite amenable to taking tea in whatever form you care to offer it.’ His voice dropped on the word—tea—lengthening it, giving it a connotation she had not considered before.

  Silently she cursed her wayward imagination. She forced her breath in and out several times and willed her shoulders to relax.

  His eyes sparkled. ‘But I think you would prefer the drive. Think of it. The wind rushing past you, the ribbons taut under your hands, the road opening out in front of you.’

  The words curled around her insides, causing tingles to run through her.

  ‘You mean to torment me until I give into your request?’ She tilted her head to one side, trying to assess his mood.

  ‘To remind you and, I will admit it, to bribe you. I thought you would enjoy showing me your skills.’

  ‘You mean I am to drive the bays?’ Diana clapped her hands together. ‘They are not nearly as difficult as you made them out to be.’

  Brett shook his head. ‘I want to be sure you can handle the ribbons. The bays may come in time, but for now the black gelding is harnessed to my curricle. He is steady, but not for the novice. Then I will know…if we should progress further.’

  Diana bit her lip. He was offering an olive branch to a neighbour. He was willing to give her a chance to prove she could handle the ribbons. And a chance to observe Mrs Satterwaite’s condition, to do her duty, rather than simply drive for pleasure. Temptation shimmered in front of her. She could do this. She had given Simon her promise not to go to town, but the proposed drive in the country was an entirely different matter.

  She glanced down at the enormous apron that covered her round gown. It was paint splattered and all enveloping. Hardly clothes suited for being seen in public. It would give her a chance to regain her reserve, to forget what it was like to be in his arms. ‘If you will allow me a moment to change, I would be de lighted to show that I can handle the curricle.’

  ‘Diana.’ His hand reached out, held her as she at tempted to move past. Her feet skittered into each other as his scent enveloped her.

  ‘Yes?’ she breathed. Her mouth ached and she barely recognised her voice.

  He brought his finger to his mouth and then touched her cheek. ‘You have green paint, just there.’

  A little impersonal touch, but one that made her insides turn over. A warmth grew within her but she resisted the urge to explore where his hand had made contact. ‘I do?’

  He nodded. ‘It is gone now.’

  All she could do was to stare at his fore finger. Surely he would kiss her. Her tongue wet her lips and she waited, but he merely arched an eyebrow. ‘The curricle awaits its driver.’

  ‘I will make sure I scrub my face, then. Make sure every piece of paint goes.’

  ‘It looked quite sweet.’

  ‘I have no wish to disgrace you when we are out on the drive.’

  ‘I doubt you will do that.’

  ‘But I must be properly dressed.’ Diana hated the way her voice caught. But she knew once she was in her most severe riding habit, she would feel less off balance, less tempted to make a spectacle of herself. She had spent five years going over the mistakes she had made, and the lessons she had learnt and she refused to throw that all away. Brett Farnham was dangerous. She had to remember that.

  ‘In your own time.’ His voice floated after her as she hurried away from the summer house. ‘I am a patient man.’

  Brett was prepared to admit that Diana could handle the ribbons as well as most men by the time they left the Satterwaites. Mrs Satterwaite was recovering from her ordeal nicely and had asked if her Jimmy’s tale was true, would Lord Coltonby be prepared to employ him? When he con firmed it was, she’d called on all the angels to bless and keep him. Brett had smiled. The day was turning out to be far more enjoyable than he had thought possible.

  Under hooded eyes, he watched Diana’s profile and saw the intent but happy expression on her face. She had changed out of her paint-splattered clothes into a very severe riding habit. But rather than hiding her charms, it only enhanced them. After holding her in his arms earlier, he knew what must lie under the high-necked collar and artfully placed lace at the base of her throat. His fingers itched to unwrap her and lay siege to her hidden desires.

  She reminded him of one of his more nervous horses, one which had been badly abused by a former owner and was disinclined to trust. He would handle her reins very care fully; gently but firmly he would lead her in the direction he wanted to go. He would teach her and she would trust him. Each step towards intimacy had to come from her. If he gave the slightest indication that he desired more, she would shy away as she had done yesterday.

  ‘Does your brother let you drive?’ he asked to distract his thoughts from the agreeable way her bosom filled out her dress.

  ‘Simon considers horses to be a means of transportation rather than a way of life. He grumbles about the cost. And how if horses could eat coal, we would save a great deal of money.’

  ‘For me, horses are a way of life.’

  ‘That does not surprise me.’ Her merry laugh rang out. ‘You appear to have a way with them. I had despaired of ever getting Jester out of that mud pool.’

  ‘Is the piebald your only horse?’ Brett kept his voice care fully neutral, but watched her face for any sign of hesitation. She might not want to go into the village with him, but she would go to the ball. It would be the final act to push Simon Clare over the edge. Clare would learn a very important lesson. The best part was that Brett was having a far more enjoyable time than he had presumed possible. Miss Diana Clare was entirely unexpected.

  ‘Jester is good for generally driving about the country. Simon keeps a pair for the carriage, and I have a chestnut for riding. Robert, of course, is still on ponies. He keeps begging for a proper horse and I hope to convince Simon that he is old enough. But all that will have to wait until he returns from school.’

  ‘How old is Robert?’

  ‘Nine.’

  ‘Surely he could move on to proper horses? What is your brother thinking about?’

  ‘My sister-in-law was thrown from a horse. She took too high a jump because my brother had dared her and spent the last few years of her life in pain.’ Diana’s face became shadowed. ‘She eventually caught lung fever and died, but Simon has hated horses ever since.’

  Brett regarded the horse’s ears. He had no wish to feel sorry for Clare. But for the first time, he had a small glimpse of what the tragedy must have done to him. For a long time, the only sound was the steady turn of the wheels and the clomping of the horses.

  ‘I had wondered about riding,’ Brett said into the stillness. ‘Do you feel the same way as your brother?’

  The torment of sitting next to her was growing with every breath he took. She was not his usual sort of fare, but there was something about her. He kept finding reasons why he had to see her, and couldn’t help but think about the way she held her head or her hands.

  He would make her want him, would make her forget about every thing but her desire for him. She would come to him.

  ‘I generally ride out every morning. Early. Sir Cuthbert’s father used to let me use the Park’s grounds as well as our own, but now…’ She made a little gesture with her hands. ‘I had not wanted to disturb you. Or for you to feel that I was taking advantage.’ />
  ‘Please do not let the change of owner ship stop you.’ He put his hands over hers on the reins, and they quivered beneath his. ‘You do take someone with you?’

  ‘Generally, I have a groom, but really, if I am riding on the Lodge’s grounds, there is no point.’

  ‘Is there anywhere in particular you recommend for riding in the neighbourhood?’ His eyes were intent on her mouth. ‘What is your favourite ride? Where is the best place to exercise a horse?’

  Her fingers curled tighter around the ribbons and for an instant he was sure he had gone too quickly. ‘If you ride up the hill and past the spinney, the view over the Tyne is very good, particularly in the morning when the mist hangs and it has an other worldly look. It always makes me feel as if life is worth living.’

  ‘It is a good view to know about.’

  ‘Yes it is. You should go up there sometime.’

  ‘I intend to.’

  Her eyes had turned a deep turquoise. Brett fought against the temptation to cup her face in his hands. They would meet there, one day, he promised himself, but not yet. She had to want it first.

  ‘Tell me about your nephew, the one you left London for.’

  ‘He goes to Dr Allen’s Academy in Newcastle. He boards there.’ Diana paused. How could she explain Robert? He wanted his father’s attention, but Simon refused to pay any notice. ‘He gets into scrapes, but he means well.’

  ‘I should like to meet him. I enjoy speaking with children.’

  Diana started and the horse began to move more swiftly. She grasped the ribbons and rapidly brought him under control. Brett raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Now there is something unexpected,’ she said with a laugh. ‘It will teach me not to be surprised when I am driving a curricle.’

  ‘The horse—or the fact I enjoy other people’s children.’

  ‘You and children.’ Diana gave a smile.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I would have thought as a founder member of the Jehu, you would be immune to the joys of such things. Drinking, gambling and debauchery—wasn’t that the creed?’

  ‘People change and grow.’ His eyes became hooded. ‘Children provide a respite from the strictures of the society. Some day, I should like my own. I like to think I will do a better job of it than my father. I swore I would on his deathbed.’

  ‘And I wish you well with it.’ Diana disliked the slight quaver in her voice. No doubt, he would marry some Diamond of the Season. She had to remember that theirs was an acquaintance, a friend ship, not one destined for the altar. She refused to even consider dreams of what that might be like. And yet, it refused to go away.

  ‘You seem perturbed, Diana.’

  ‘I think the paint fumes were rather stronger than I expected.’ She gave her head a shake and banished the image of Brett holding a baby. ‘But driving has revived me.’

  His fingers closed over hers, a warm firm grip, but one that did not allow for refusal. ‘Then would you care for another challenge and a wager?’

  ‘What sort of wager?’

  ‘A simple one. I will wager you driving the bays whenever you want against a dance at the Bolts’ ball.’

  ‘But I am not going to the ball,’ Diana replied quickly before she could give into the temptation. Wagering with him could only be dangerous. How could she even be contemplating such a thing?

  Brett raised one eyebrow. ‘Are you not confident of winning, Miss Diana?’

  ‘In order to dance with you at the ball, I would have to be going to the ball. I am not.’ She clenched her fists. ‘In any case, I do not make a habit of wagering.’

  ‘And the thought of going to a ball is so dreadful that you are not prepared to risk it for the pleasure of driving my bays…whenever you want to.’ He rubbed his hand across his chin. ‘It appears to me that you do not consider yourself an expert driver, and this is why you have no wish to take up the challenge. It has nothing to do with wagering and every thing to do with you not feeling confident.’

  Diana bristled. Not confident? She could tackle anything. ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘I have set up a little obstacle course. Something to test my reflexes. It occurs to me that if you can complete a clear round, you will prove to my satisfaction that you can drive…unless you are afraid of losing.’

  ‘I am not afraid.’ Diana drew a deep breath and ignored the sudden warning voice in her mind. This was not a wager per se. It was about proving him wrong. But she had to think strategically. ‘I have doubts that you can complete this course.’

  He pursed his lips and she thought for a moment he would refuse.

  ‘How sensible you are, Miss Diana.’ As he took the reins from her, his voice became liquid honey. ‘The rules of the course are that you do it as quickly as possible and the curricle does not hit any of the hurdles. I shall demonstrate.’

  The curricle went through a gate into a harvested field. Bits of stubble and gleanings still lay about, but the ground was firm. Five sets of hurdles were placed at odd angles to each other, providing a series of quick turns.

  Diana wrinkled her nose ‘The hurdles seem to be set awfully close together.’

  ‘It can be completed…if you know what you are doing.’

  Brett clicked his tongue and the black gelding set off at a fast pace. Once the curricle tipped on to one wheel and bounced back down, but he managed to make it through all the openings.

  ‘Well done.’ Diana clapped her hands.

  Brett gave a boyish smile. ‘It is your turn, Miss Diana. At a trot, if you dare…’

  ‘Of course I dare.’ Diana spat on her gloves and took the ribbons. She regarded the first opening, went over the course in her mind, trying to remember how Brett had done it. It was the fourth set of hurdles that was the most difficult. Once she got past them, every thing would be straight for ward.

  ‘Whenever you are ready.’

  She flicked the reins and the horse set off. The first set of hurdles flew by. The second and the third. Diana reined in tightly and felt the curricle slip a little. She corrected her grip and aimed for the fourth set, held her breath and heard the carriage wheels slide through.

  She let out a breath. Risking a glance up at Brett’s face, Diana could see it had become set.

  The last hurdles loomed in front of her. An easy set, slightly narrower than the others, but her line was true. She would do this. She could imagine the bays in front of her, responding to her every moment. She would drive out every day. She flicked the ribbons, urged the horse forwards, to complete the final obstacle.

  The curricle started to go through. Diana winced as she heard the slightest crunch of the wheel against the left hurdle. She pulled back, trying desperately to change the angle as the hurdle seemed to hold. The curricle went through and she pulled the horse to a stop and prayed.

  She released a breath.

  ‘I have done it! I have done it!’ She raised her hand in triumph.

  Behind her, a distinct thump re sounded. She glanced back and saw the hurdle down on the ground. ‘I…I…’

  Brett lifted one eyebrow and his lips twisted upwards in a sardonic smile. ‘I believe you will be going to the ball after all, Miss Diana, but a solid attempt all the same.’

  Chapter Eight

  Of all the idiotic things she had done in her life, yesterday’s wager with Brett Farnham was one of the worst. She should have known that the course would not be easy. She should have yielded to caution. She’d made her rules for a purpose, not to be bent or disregarded. But it was done and she would abide by the terms of the wager. The next time, she would turn a deaf ear to his blandishments.

  Luckily she still had the very modest ball gown from two years ago when Simon had forced her to go the Grand Allies rout at the Assembly Rooms in Newcastle. Rose had reluctantly agreed to alter it slightly, grumbling that either the blue-green or the deep rose pink would have been a better choice. After insisting on the brown, Diana retired to the summer house and painted furiously.


  ‘I thought I might discover you here,’ Brett’s low voice slid over her skin. ‘I am pleased to see that you took my advice and your feet are solidly on the ground.’

  ‘The garlands are nearly completed.’

  ‘Hopefully they give the effect you want.’

  ‘Not entirely,’ Diana admitted. ‘There is something missing.’

  ‘A perfectionist. Is this the only summer house that you have painted?’

  ‘I painted the Bolts’ summer house four summers ago when the Dowager was still alive.’ Diana kept her gaze on the flowers. ‘She insisted that no one else would do.’

  ‘You did those murals?’ His eyes widened. ‘Now I am impressed. Sir Norman showed me them the other day when I picked up my winnings.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Diana bowed her head as warmth infused her body. ‘In the end, I was very pleased with them, but the Dowager was a hard task master—always changing her mind.’

  ‘Of course, you have completely ruined my strata gem for getting you out into the garden during the ball.’

  Diana looked up at him and saw a small smile tugging at his lips. ‘I never go into gardens during balls.’

  ‘A wise policy, but you will go to the ball and you will dance with me.’

  ‘I have not danced for years.’ Diana gave a strangled laugh. ‘Some of the newer dances were nearly beyond me. All the twists and turns. It was a nightmare at the Grand Allies ball. I was so nervous that I would be asked to dance, but thank fully only Simon bothered and that was only out of duty, so I excused him.’

  ‘Your steps might be slightly rusty but you have natural rhythm. I can see it in the way you move, the way you walk.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Diana took a quick glance up at him. The sunlight from the door gave him a halo, darkening his face, but high lighting his broad shoulders and well-formed legs. What would it be like to be in his arms? She quickly dropped her gaze and studied her hands. A paint blotch marred the right one. Something real and solid to cling on to. He was being kind.