A Question of Impropriety

by Michelle Styles

  She reached over and gave Rose’s hand a squeeze. ‘Thank you for caring, and for being you.’

  Rose gave a sniff. ‘Can’t see how I could be anyone else.’

  ‘Oh, Rose, you are long suffering.’ Diana laughed, loud and long.

  ‘It is good to hear you laugh like that again, miss. I am fair certain that I can’t remember the last time I heard that sound.’

  ‘It was a while ago, Rose. A very long while ago.’

  Diana listened to the hooves of her horse pound the earth. This morning, she had woken and known she had to ride. Fast. Furious. Away from the dreams that haunted her sleep. Away from the knowledge that Brett, having experienced her charms once, was in no rush to experience them again. It bothered her that she wanted him, that she had been woken by a nameless longing. It was not merely to touch him again, but to hear his voice and see his smile.

  Her feelings went beyond mere attraction, and it frightened her, just as it exhilarated her. It was as if all her resolutions, all the tenets that she had lived by the last five years suddenly counted for nothing. The only thing she knew was that no man would ever hold her in his power again. She would be the mistress of her own fate. She would never be forced into a marriage of duty, or one-sided attraction. She was free.

  She urged Merlin forwards, faster.

  She had declined the use of a groom, intending to go no further than the ice house, but it had not been nearly far enough. Now, she allowed Merlin his head and they raced past the copse, the home pasture and on up to the hill towards the gap in the fence that led to Ladywell Park.

  She turned Merlin’s head and started up the long hill. At the top, the entire valley lay at her feet, with the Tyne snaking through like a silver rope. In the distance she could vaguely make out the buildings of the Ladywell Colliery. Familiar objects in a familiar, unchanging landscape. Diana breathed in the cool air, savouring the moment. It steadied her.

  Another horse gave a soft whinny. Instantly her nerves stiffened. Was she ready for this? How would he react, seeing her again? All the pleasure in the ride vanished as if it had never been at all, leaving behind a tight feeling in her stomach.

  ‘I wondered when you would make it up here.’ Brett came from the spinney of trees, leading his stallion. He looped the reins about a slender branch and, leaving the horse, started towards her, catching Merlin’s bridle with ease.

  ‘How did you know I would come here?’ she asked, her breath catching in her throat. Was she that pain fully obvious?

  ‘I saw you earlier, riding with your hair streaming behind you.’ A faint smile touched his lips, giving him a saturnine look.

  ‘I could have been riding anywhere. It was merely happen stance that I came up here.’

  ‘You de scribed this view to me. You wanted me to be here.’ Brett’s voice was low. ‘It is even more magical than you de scribed, watching the sunrise over the hills.’

  ‘I am flattered that you remembered.’ Diana at tempted a haughty disdain. She could rebuild the walls around her heart. She could protect that vulnerable bit of her, and ignore the part that kept whispering about his sincerity.

  ‘Some things are worth remembering. Views like the one I had this morning make life worth living. They provide a balm to the soul.’

  ‘Does my soul need a balm?’ She tilted her head and glanced up at him through her lashes.

  ‘You were riding as if all the demons in the world were after you.’ His face sobered. ‘I promise you, Diana, you are safe with me. I am willing to be your champion. Trust me.’

  ‘No, not demons,’ Diana said slowly. ‘I was rev el ling in the joy of being alive. It was like I had sleep-walked through my life for years and suddenly I had wakened to find this most marvellous world.’

  A silence fell between them, unbroken except for Merlin’s quiet chomping. She noticed that Brett’s eyes had circles under them as if he had not slept. How long had he been here? Since before sunrise? Waiting for her? She wanted to reject the notion as fancy, but somehow it seemed to grow and take root, refusing to be sup pressed.

  ‘You came to see the view. But did you come also to see me?’ She hated the way her voice trembled. Hated her need to hear him say the words. Men like Brett scorned ties or obligations.

  ‘I was waiting to be asked.’ His voice held an oddly humble note.

  ‘You may consider yourself asked, then. I want to see you,’ she whispered. Some day she would have to explain about the past, but not today. She wanted to enjoy this feeling for as long as it lasted.

  He took the reins from her hands and looped them around the tree so that Merlin was tethered.

  Fastening his hands around her waist, Brett lifted her down from Merlin. Her body slid against his. ‘Aren’t you going to kiss me good morning?’

  He bent his head and Diana tasted his lips. It was gentle and lingering. Her arms rose and fastened around his neck. The kiss rapidly deepened, calling to something deep within her. With all her heart, she wanted to be the girl she had been five years ago. She wanted yesterday to have been her first time. But it wasn’t. And she had no idea how he’d react to the truth.

  His lips trailed down the column of her throat, placing soft kisses that tantalised her. The embers within her body flared into life and she realised the fire she had thought doused had merely slumbered. Her body arched forward, seeking more contact with his. She at tempted to hang on to sanity. The truth lay between them. If she never told him, it would hang there, making every thing ugly. She prayed that the disgust would not be too terrible, but she had to say the words.

  ‘Brett, what are you doing?’

  ‘Your skin tastes like the morning dew,’ he murmured, cupping her face between his hands. Delicately his tongue traced her lips. Lingered. ‘No, I was wrong—sunshine mixed with dew.’

  ‘You spout easy words.’

  He moved his lips to her temple. ‘What do you want? Shall I stop and go away?’

  Go away? Her body pro tested at the thought. She looked up into his eyes, saw the deep grey pools. ‘What are you asking me?’

  ‘I can feel a change in you, and it scares me…’

  His breathing was ragged and he placed his hands on her shoulders. She looked up into his eyes. In another instant, he would put her away from him and would return to his horse. It was the last thing she wanted, and she was horrified at her reaction. Shaken to the core. And then, not horrified.

  ‘Diana?’

  Her answer was to pull his face back towards hers, her hands digging into his hair, holding him there. ‘Kiss me, Brett. Kiss me like you did before.’

  He groaned and lowered his mouth. Their tongues teased each other, tangling, touching and retreating only to tangle again. The fire within her flamed into carnal desire. Dark. Dangerous. All the more potent because she knew what would happen, out here with no one about. Knew and wanted it. Her body arched towards his again.

  He lifted his head and stared down at her for a long time. This time, his hands pushed her from him, created a wall of air between them.

  ‘Enough.’

  ‘Enough?’ she said, and something within her died. She ducked her head. Her lips tingled from the onslaught. She touched a hand to her lips and tried to ignore her aching swollen breasts. ‘Enough? How can that be enough?’

  ‘If we continue, I will have your skirts over your head and your back against the oak tree. And that won’t do either of us any good.’

  ‘It is a thought. Certainly.’ She glanced over her shoulder at the tree. A curl of heat infused her. She knew he intended to make her pause, but pausing meant she would have to confess, would have to ruin this fragile new thing between them. She lifted her arms, held them out to him.

  ‘You are a witch, you know that?’

  ‘No, not a witch. A woman. A woman who has slumbered and now has come alive.’

  ‘Very much alive.’ He caught her about her waist and pulled her to him, moulding her body to his. Despite the heaviness of her riding
habit, his hard arousal pressed against her thighs, making her wriggle. ‘But you deserve more than that. You deserve better.’

  She glanced at the oak. ‘Would it be so bad, so terribly wicked?’

  He gave a low husky laugh that sent ripples along her nerves. ‘No, and some day, I promise you, we shall do that. Me filling you, with the rose-gold sunrise erupting all around us. My body worshipping yours.’

  ‘But not today?’ Diana bit her lip and tried to banish the pagan image his words had conjured. ‘Is the sun too high in the sky?’

  ‘I intend to make this right.’ He turned his face away from the oak. ‘I promised you a soft bed with linen sheets.’

  Diana wrapped her arms about her waist. She knew she was not ready for a small house in some anonymous market town, giving up Robert and Simon. ‘I thought we would be discreet.’

  ‘What is indiscreet about a bed?’ A smile tugged at his lips.

  ‘That would be far too risky. People might discover us. There would be consequences. Not only for me or you, but for my family.’ She forced the words from her throat. ‘Servants talk, no matter what. Such things do not remain secrets for long.’

  His fingers went under her chin and lifted it up. His eyes searched hers. Then he let her go. ‘You don’t trust me.’

  ‘I know what happens. It is always the woman who falls.’ She gave a little shrug. There were all sorts of trust. ‘I desire you, but fear the scandal.’

  ‘And if there was no scandal, what then?’ He ran a hand down her back. ‘The bed I am thinking of will have no one whispering or with drawing their skirts.’

  Her breath stopped in her throat. She could almost believe that he was speaking of marriage. Her insides trembled and then she rejected the notion firmly. It was beyond the realms of possibility. She gave a small laugh. ‘You mean the shepherd’s hut in the spinney. I suppose it does have a pallet. I should have guessed.’

  His lips thinned and his eyes grew hard. ‘I mean the marriage bed, Diana. What happened yesterday may have consequences and I am no cad. It is my duty.’

  She went ice cold. The marriage bed. He didn’t want to marry, he hadn’t professed undying love. Duty. He had made the offer because he felt an obligation. She had to tell him the truth. She steeled herself and searched for the right words.

  ‘We agreed that marriage was not for either one of us,’ she said in a small voice.

  ‘Ideas can change.’ He reached out and inter laced her fingers with his. ‘What would be wrong with a marriage between us? We suit. I must marry at some point to produce an heir and why not you?’

  Diana broke away. She crossed her arms about her waist. She had hated the thought of marriage to him when it would have been only duty on his part. Duty provided little comfort in the night. She could not bear it if she had to watch his desire turn to disgust once he saw the awful ugliness that resided deep within her. ‘Let’s speak no more of marriage in jest.’

  His face grew dark. ‘I am serious.’

  ‘As was I, when I said that I would not marry.’ With each syllable, her voice grew stronger and steadier. She was saying the right things, choosing the correct path. ‘You did not coerce me into what passed between us. I knew what I was doing. I had no expectations of an offer. You may rest easy.’

  ‘After what happened, it is my duty. You are a gently bred woman. Cosseted. Cared for. Protected.’ Brett stood very straight and pronounced each word with care, as if they had been rehearsed and only emerged with great pain.

  Diana winced. The gates of her mind broke open and memories of the other time flooded over her. The pawing hands. The heavy unwelcome breathing in her ear and the pain. All happening while her chaperon had sat, eating and drinking but a few hundred yards from her and the fire works had burst overhead. She had cried out, but the explosion had swallowed her cries. She forced the gate of her mind closed. Breathed.

  She wrapped her arms about her waist, shaking, unable to face the scorn he must have for her. Unable to show the ugliness that she knew must be in her face. ‘I was not an innocent virgin.’

  ‘Diana.’ His voice was thick, almost unrecognisable. ‘You are still an innocent. You possess little knowledge about what passes between a man and a woman. I can tell the difference.’ He put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Confide in me. Help me to understand.’

  ‘It happened at Vauxhall Gardens,’ she whispered. ‘One time. I wanted to see the fire works. I loved fire works in those days. My chaperon stayed behind. She hadn’t finished her supper. He had always been so polite, so correct. He had kissed me once on my cheek. I never thought. We had only gone a short way down a darkened path and a rocket went up, lighting the whole sky. I turned to see it. He kissed me, forced his tongue between my lips, called me a tease. His breath stank of drink. I broke free, but he caught me again with rougher hands. Told me I was a flirt.’

  Her throat closed and a deep shudder went through her. She waited to see his disgust, but he squeezed her shoulder, warm steady fingers that somehow cut through the chill. She swallowed hard, regained her composure and then continued.

  ‘His hands were hard. Roaming all over my body. Touching me where no one had ever touched me before. I begged and pleaded, but he seemed to like my fright. It made him more… He threw me to the ground and pinned me there with my skirts over my head. All the while, the rockets were going off. I could hear people’s excited shouts and gasps. I yelled, but nobody came. It hurt such a lot.’

  She put her hands to her face.

  ‘What were you wearing that night? Your ivory dress?’ His voice was cold, deadly. His hands clenched at his sides. ‘Was it the night before you became engaged? Is that why your brother agreed to the marriage?’

  She shook her head, unable to understand why he had asked. ‘I wore my white dress with a lavender net. I cut it up into small bits and fed them to the fire when I returned home. All except one piece, which became the lining of my first cap. Why do you ask?’

  He released a breath. ‘I worried I might have been there. I could not have borne it to think that this happened to you and I could have stopped him. Did he do anything else, anything at all?’

  ‘He said that I had led him on. That I was wicked and wanton and deserved every thing that happened to me. That a true lady would never have behaved like that, and he could tell the difference. And he had only done that because I had wanted to. He said that he had changed his mind about marrying me and was going to end it that night. But we would have to marry because of how I had acted and what we had done and he’d take great pleasure in spending my money. And my brother would pay dearly for it.’ She gave a little shrug and tried to control the shaking of her body. ‘Two days later he was dead. I prayed he would die and he did. It makes me very wicked, Brett.’

  ‘It makes you human.’

  She turned her face away. She was not going to mention the blood, or how Mrs Tanner had simply raised her glass and asked if she had enjoyed the fire works when they had returned to the pavilion. How he had smirked. The hours she had spent scrubbing her skin, until it was raw and bleeding. The promises she made to God if only somehow she’d be released from her living hell. Then she had been. And she had tried to live her life as she had promised. Had worn the cap until it was rags to remind her. Only it had not been living, only surviving.

  She screwed her eyes shut, refused to let the words tumble forth. Pity was the last thing she wanted. But it was vital that he understand that there was no need for his sacrifice.

  ‘It is good the man is dead or I’d murder him with my bare hands for putting you through that. As it is, I wish Bagshott had not killed him so cleanly and instead that he suffered more.’

  ‘They said that he didn’t suffer. He looked peaceful. I wanted him to experience all the torments of hell.’

  ‘Have you told anyone else your story? Your brother? Your maid? Who knows?’

  ‘It was Rose’s night off and she was visiting her family. I had the under-maid draw me a bath
. And I have never told anyone. I have been too ashamed. And no one ever guessed.’ A bitter laugh escaped her lips. ‘They thought it was because he had died that I mourned him. How could I mourn a monster like that?’

  ‘You should never have had to endure that alone.’ He put his fingers under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. ‘He was wrong. He forced himself on you to ensure you would marry him. He was deep in debt.’

  ‘But I—’

  ‘You did nothing. Someone should have protected you and I will regret to my dying day that I wasn’t there to answer your pleas. That nobody came.’

  Hot tears ran down her face. ‘You weren’t to blame.’

  ‘Neither were you, Diana Clare. Neither were you.’

  ‘But I—’

  ‘The offer stands. It is an honourable offer, Diana. However you were mistreated has no bearing on your future. You are a lady. It is my duty.’

  Honourable. Duty. With no words of love. She had no wish for that sort of marriage, even with Brett.

  ‘You feel it your obligation to make an offer. I have refused. That is an end to it.’ She forced her voice to become bright. ‘Come, we shall say no more of it. You will thank me eventually.’

  His cool eyes assessed her. Raked her up and down. ‘That is your final word on the subject.’

  ‘It is. I refuse to marry for some sense of misplaced duty. I refuse ever to marry.’

  ‘Why are you standing here next to me?’ His lips took on a cynical twist. ‘What is it that you want?’

  Diana took a long deep breath. Her whole body trembled. She knew she had to do it. She would change the subject and take control again. ‘You.’

  He swore loud and long, the words echoing across the valley. Words that made her want to curl up into a little ball and die.

  ‘I thought you would have been pleased.’ Diana forced the words out. ‘A woman who is not looking for marriage. Who is only looking for the pleasure of the moment.’