A Question of Impropriety

by Michelle Styles

  ‘A good cup of tea does a body good, despite what the doctors say.’ The landlady smoothed her skirts. ‘There is nothing like a singing kettle to put me in a good mood.’

  Diana gazed about the room. It was simple but comfortable. Far more than she had hoped for. A small fire glowed in the grate and there was even a mirror over the dressing table. She set the cup down on the small table next to the armchair.

  ‘Yes, I like a cup of tea.’

  ‘You looked like the sort.’ The landlady bustled around the room. ‘Your man has ordered a private meal for you. He thought you might find it easier. We tend to get a few drovers come through on their way home from the Hexham cattle market. They are harmless, mostly.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Diana held back the words explaining that Brett was far from being her man. Neither did she like to think about the few cattle drovers who were not harmless.

  ‘It is good that you have someone like that looking after you.’

  Diana took a careful sip of her tea. ‘Yes, he has his uses. Were there enough rooms for him?’

  The woman gave her a sharp look and Diana cursed her tongue. ‘He will be in the stables. It is the proper place for coachmen.’ She gave a loud sniff as if she had heard about Diana riding up beside him, rather than within the carriage.

  Diana fought the temptation to laugh. It was probably better that Brett had done that. If it became known that Lord Coltonby and she had become stranded, she doubted that anyone would believe the innocence of it. But the landlady’s outrage at the merest suggestion that a coachman should have a private room threatened to send her into fits of barely sup pressed laughter. No doubt, it would be a story that would be chewed over and over again by Brett’s friends. How he had outwitted a landlady and made her believe he was a coachman.

  ‘Yes, it is the proper place for a coachman. Hopefully the carriage will be speedily repaired. I wish to continue on with my journey tomorrow.’

  ‘You should be able to. It didn’t sound too bad and Joe the black smith is a right good one.’ The landlady dropped her voice. ‘At first I worried that you and he might be escaping to the Headless Cross at Gretna Green. There are quite a few couples who come this way, you know. And I don’t want any midnight knocking on doors. I run a respectable establishment.’

  ‘We were returning my nephew to his school in Newcastle, and I am on my way home.’

  ‘You can’t be too careful. Still, I could see why you might be tempted with that one. He has a very fine manner for a coachman.’

  ‘I think I am far too old to be contemplating such behaviour.’ Diana shifted uneasily. Brett could never come up here to her room. The gossip would spread through the village and from the village to other areas—all speaking about the lady in the yellow carriage who had entertained her coachman. He had promised to safe guard her reputation.

  ‘You’re only too old, when you’re dead.’

  Diana opened and closed her mouth several times. ‘I think it would be best if I waited in the parlour. I want to know the extent of the carriage’s damage and how long it will take to repair. Please inform him of my request when he returns.’

  The woman appraised her. A crafty gleam came into her eye and Diana shifted un comfortably, feeling the heat grow on her cheeks. She had not made a decision yet. All she knew was that she did not want to wait in her room like some short-heeled wench who only needed the gentlest of pushes to fall on her back. ‘Aye, there is one. You can wait there if you like.’

  ‘I would prefer it. It is more seemly, somehow.’

  ‘More seemly. Aye, it is that.’

  She followed the woman down to the back parlour. The landlady bustled about the room, straightening the pillows on the sofa. Another pot of tea and plate of short bread were produced and placed in front of the fire. The landlady held out a claw-like hand as her eyes became crafty. ‘I will need extra for the room. For your privacy. You won’t want disturbing, will you?’

  Diana kept her back straight as she gritted her teeth. Always money. She dug into the bottom of her reticule and held out a few coins. The woman frowned, but pocketed them. ‘Once I have spoken to my coachman, I will return up to my room.’

  Then she politely but firmly turned the conversation towards the inn and when the mail coach would leave in the morning. If the carriage had not been fixed, she knew she would have to leave anyway.

  ‘And would you like me to send up the scullery maid to help you with your clothes when you are ready?’

  ‘Thankfully, I am wearing a simple gown so I shall manage myself.’ Diana kept her chin high.

  The landlady gave a nod and tapped her nose. ‘I will let your man know where you are when he comes in.’

  ‘I appreciate it.’ Diana sat down, and began sipping her tea as she watched the coals burn brightly in the parlour’s fire.

  The coals had become embers, but Brett had still not appeared or sent word. She picked up the poker and stirred the fire. It erupted into a glorious blaze of colour, but soon burnt down. An indication of her relationship with Brett? A brilliant blaze of intense heat and then nothing?

  She glanced out of the window and saw the night had drawn in. To her right, the distant clangs of the bar sounded as more and more men gathered. And even though she knew it was silly to wish it, she felt disappointed that Brett had failed to come to see her. He had to have been finished with the black smith by now. The sky only held the few last remaining rays of sunlight. No one worked that late. She dug her nails into the palm of her hand. He was avoiding her. Once again she had misread every thing. This journey had been about his promise to Robert, rather than him seeking to repair their damaged friend ship.

  She lifted the bell, ready to ring for the landlady and to have protection going up the stairs. When she next encountered Brett, she would be distant. Today had taught her the necessity of that. This long agonising wait, this point less wait—and for what?

  Her whole life seemed to stretch out in front of her, grey and colourless, as she grew ever older and eventually even Robert and Simon would stop needing her.

  Today’s accident had taught her how quickly things could change. How precious life was. It was strange that Simon never saw that. All he seemed obsessed with was creating this engine and making it move. His brush with death had only made him more stubborn, but hers had changed her.

  She gave one last glimpse at the dying fire. She wasn’t willing to sit there waiting any longer.

  Heavy foot steps sounded in the hall. Her hand stilled, waited for the footstep to move onwards.

  A discreet knock echoed in the room. Diana tilted her head. The foot steps weren’t right. Should she answer the door? The knock came again, this time heavier and more impatient. She opened it a crack and a heavy-set man stood there, swaying and grinning. She went to slam the door, but he stuck his fingers out and caught it.

  ‘You don’t have protection.’ His words were slurred and the stench of beer assaulted Diana’s nose. ‘A woman such as yourself should have protection.’

  His words sent shivers down her spine. He should have said lady, not woman. What did he take her for?

  ‘I would suggest you return to the bar or wherever you came from.’ Diana stood blocking the doorway. She measured the distance from the door to the fire grate and the poker. Did she dare run for it? ‘I am waiting for someone. He will not be best pleased to see you.’

  ‘I think you want company.’ The man wiped his hand across his mouth. ‘Women like you always want company. Mrs Dawkins thought you might, seeing as you was still here.’

  Women like her? Diana blinked. He had made a serious mistake, but she had made a worse one. She had thought herself safe in this room.

  ‘You will leave this instant.’ Diana used her sternest voice and pointed in the direction of the bar.

  ‘I like them feisty.’

  He started towards her. Diana backed away. One step at a time. She would prevail and when she emerged, she would never ever have anything t
o do with Brett Farnham again. Respectable inn? Hah!

  ‘I am asking politely—go now, please.’

  ‘How are you going to make me, a little scrap like you?’

  She reached behind her and her hand closed over the poker. She drew a breath and summoned her courage. She would have one chance, one blow. She lifted the poker slightly, adjusted her handgrip, steadied her legs. ‘Go.’

  ‘The lady has asked you to leave. Politely,’ Brett’s lazy voice drawled. ‘I recommend you take up her suggestion.’

  Diana felt the poker slip from her hands. Brett was here, lounging against the door frame. His body appeared relaxed, but his eyes burnt with a steely determination.

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘I will not be responsible for the state of your short-term health.’

  ‘You southerners are all alike. You think you can come up here and make a big noise. All wind and no bottle.’

  ‘I wouldn’t concentrate on thinking. It is not a drunkard’s strong point.’

  ‘Are you insulting me?’ The heavy ox turned, balling his anvil-like fists.

  ‘You were insulting the lady.’ Brett straightened his cuffs, as a sardonic smile twisted his lips. ‘I returned the coin with interest.’

  The man pursed his lips and flexed his huge hands. ‘Someone ought to teach you manners. You ought not to talk to your betters like that.’

  ‘It is amazing how we think alike.’ Brett’s fist connected with the under side of the man’s jaw, sending him reeling back wards. ‘I did warn him.’

  ‘Did I say a word?’ Diana kept her eyes on the fight, but tried to grab the poker again.

  The man staggered back, shook his great bull-like head and rushed forwards, fists flailing. Brett easily side stepped him. The man stopped and then turned, meeting Brett’s next punch in his stomach. He doubled over. ‘Here, there was no cause to do that,’ he spluttered.

  ‘We appear to have a difference of opinion about that.’ Brett blew on his knuckles.

  ‘I was going. There is only way out of the room, unless I go by the window,’ the man pro tested.

  ‘Do not tempt me.’

  ‘I was only trying to protect this here piece of fancy.’

  ‘Go, please go.’ Diana gestured towards the door. ‘Do not make it worse on yourself.’

  ‘But this is the room Mrs Dawkins always puts her girls in. Always the parlour when one of them’s free.’

  ‘Not tonight.’

  The man seemed to sober. His eyes travelled between Diana and Brett. ‘I appear to have made a mistake.’

  ‘Do not compound it by remaining.’

  The man started towards the door, mumbling.

  ‘Apologise to the lady. And kindly inform Mrs Dawkins that this lady is not to be disturbed for the rest of the evening.’

  ‘I am very sorry, but she was asking for it.’ The man looked truculent. ‘Can I go now?’

  Brett grabbed the lapels of the man’s coat, stared him in the eye.

  ‘You will humbly crave her pardon. You will never do such a thing again.’ Then he released the man’s lapels.

  ‘I humbly whatever he says.’ The man practically ran out of the room. His foot steps could be heard clumping down the hall.

  Brett shut the door with a decisive click, locking it behind him.

  ‘Is it over?’ Diana whispered and brought the poker around in front of her. Her fingers refused to let it go. ‘I was frightened.’

  ‘It is over,’ Brett said. ‘The man was drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying.’

  ‘But do you think that landlady rents out this room as…as…?’

  ‘I didn’t enquire.’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘You were supposed to be up in your private room, away from this.’

  ‘The landlady seemed disapproving, and I wanted to find out about the carriage.’ She was aware that her cheeks were flaming. ‘I could hardly ask her to send my coachman up. What would she think? It would not have been seemly.’

  ‘So you came down here to this room.’

  ‘How was I to know? I expected you back long before now.’

  Brett came over. His hand closed around hers. Gently he removed the poker. ‘You should return to your room.’

  ‘Yes, I should.’ Her feet refused to move. ‘Will you escort me there?’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘If you think it necessary—I doubt your gentleman caller will return in a hurry. Shall I ring for the land lady?’

  ‘I don’t think there is any need to bother Mrs. Dawkins.’ She ran her tongue over her parched lips and hoped he’d understand. ‘The inn appears full tonight.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  He held the door open and she went out of the little room. Her heart pounded so loudly that she thought he must hear it. She led the way up the narrow back passage and heard him follow her. She breathed more easily when she had reached her room, opened the door and gone in. A few remaining coals glowed faintly in the gloom.

  He bent over the embers, stirred them up and placed more coal on top. The fire blazed into life, sending shadows playing on the walls. ‘It will take the chill off the room.’

  Diana stood watching him. She noticed how his muscles moved under his coat. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Think nothing of it.’ He stood in front of the fire. ‘I came back from the blacksmith’s to discover this—the entire inn full of drunken drovers. It was not what I had envisioned.’

  ‘You weren’t to know.’

  ‘I should have considered.’ His mouth became a thin white line. ‘How did he get into the parlour?’

  ‘He knocked. I thought it might be you. The landlady said that she would tell you where I was and that I wanted to speak with you.’ Diana gave a half-shrug. ‘He put his foot in the door, and…this is all my fault.’

  ‘It is not your fault, Diana, you weren’t to know.’ He made a face. ‘I blame myself.’

  ‘Shall we now argue over who is at fault?’

  ‘Has he harmed you?’

  She shook her head and crossed her arms about her, tried to banish the image from her mind. The old Diana would have been curled up in a ball. Her days of being timid and scared of life had truly ended. She knew she would have hit the man with a poker, if he had landed one punch on Brett. ‘You arrived in time.’

  ‘Thank heaven for small mercies.’ He gave a crooked smile. ‘I had given up on divine intervention, but I am willing to concede, Diana Clare, that you have a guardian angel looking after you.’

  ‘How is the carriage?’

  ‘Mended. We can leave at first light, and you will be back home before noon.’ He pressed his fingertips together and his brow became furrowed as if he was struggling for control. ‘I can station myself outside your door if you wish. Regardless of what people might say, it will be safer that way.’

  Outside the door. He was about to walk out of her life.

  Diana stared up at the ceiling. It had to come from her. The decision she had made before no longer counted. She wanted to be with this man. She wanted to show her desire for him. She had no wish to bind him to her, merely to create memories that would sustain her when she was old and grey, to think that once her life had been a bubble of hap pi ness. ‘Please stay with me tonight.’

  ‘I don’t think it would be wise.’

  ‘Why think?’ she whispered. She ran her hands down her sides and licked her lips.

  ‘You have had a traumatic day.’

  ‘I know what I am doing. Stay here with me.’ She took a step forwards, caressed his jaw with her hand and felt the graze of his stubble against her fingers. ‘Please?’

  His fingers traced the outline of her jaw, feather light, delicate as if he was memorising it. ‘Are you sure?’

  Was he going to make it difficult for her? She was no good at seduction. She wanted to show him that she needed to have him in her life, for as long as it lasted. She nodded towards the bed, at tempted a joke. ‘It has linen sheets.’

  ‘I
had not even considered the bed, but you’re right, it does.’

  ‘You did promise and you always keep your promises.’

  ‘That I do.’ His eyes held a strange light.

  ‘What happens next?’ she whispered and stared at the floor, rather than at him. ‘I am a beginner at wickedness.’

  ‘Let me watch you undress.’ He breathed in her ear.

  ‘Undress?’ Her hands went to her gown. She rapidly undid the buttons before she had time to think, before she had time to worry that she was doing it wrong. Tonight was about seduction, and wan ton ness. It was not about her normal world. It was as if she was trembling on the brink of a thresh old. ‘Like this?’

  He stepped away from her. His eyes became inscrutable. ‘Continue.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘Let me watch you.’

  She started to take off her gown, stopped, feeling her cheeks grow hot under his dark gaze. ‘It is impossible.’

  ‘Try.’ His voice flowed from the shadows.

  She did it suddenly, lifting her arms and pulling off the gown, pain fully aware that he must have watched other women, women who could make undressing a seduction. And her efforts were clumsy. Her fingers tugged at the stays, and managed only to pull the bow tighter. She gave a little exclamation and tried again.

  ‘You see, I am hopeless at this.’

  ‘Far from hopeless.’ His husky rasp wrapped itself around her innards. ‘And what would you do next?’

  ‘Plait my hair.’

  ‘Sit down on that stool in front of the mirror, begin plaiting.’

  ‘Are we playing a game?’

  ‘Of sorts.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Indulge me in this fantasy. For tonight.’

  She sat down and obeyed, concentrating on her hair rather than on him or the mirror. A simple little action, one which steadied her nerves. If it was fantasy, then it bore no relation to her life. Indulge him? Indulge herself, and the dreams that had woken her over the past few nights and filled her with a nameless ache. ‘Am I doing this right?’

  ‘Yes.’ The word was no more than a hiss of air.