The earl turned over her hand and pressed it gently, then looked at her questioningly. “Does it hurt?” he asked.
“A little.”
He slid his thumb a bit, a caressing movement, catching on her skin; his thumb seemed slightly callused. He pressed down, a little harder.
“Ah!”
“It hurts there, then.” He took her hand between his, rubbing lightly. “Bruised, I believe, but not badly.” His rubbing became more firm, and Diana could not help staring at how the long, elegant fingers of one hand smoothed over the palm of hers, while his other cradled the back of her hand like an egg in a nest. The strokes of his fingers were hypnotic, moving over the hollow of her palm, up and around the pads just at the base of her fingers and her thumb. She closed her eyes, letting out a slight breath, her hand relaxing, limp, at last.
“Is that better?”
Her eyes shot open. “Yes, of course—that is, yes,” she stammered. He still held her hand; she quickly pulled it away.
He smiled widely, then grew somber, but she could not help thinking he was smiling still, somehow. She felt heat rise in her face and she turned away to the curricle. “Thank you,” she said, remembering her manners.
“You are welcome,” Lord Brisbane replied. He tapped the curricle with a finger. “It must have been a magnificent carriage. I can see, here, how it was joined.” He ran his fingers over a seam of the carriage body, and Diana thought of how those fingers had moved over the palm of her hand. “This is very fine workmanship.”
She drew in a resolute breath and let it out, determined to banish the odd, unsettled sensation that had seized her. “Yes,” she replied. “My uncle always went to the finest carriage makers in London. To buy anything less, he believed, was a false economy. A carriage made with the best workmanship and parts will last at least twice as long as one of the inferior make—” Her breath caught. Except for this one, she thought.
“Except for this one,” he said quietly, and her eyes flew to his, startled that his words had echoed her thoughts. His expression was kind and held, she thought, a measure of pity.
She did not want his pity. She lifted her chin and said, “This shall last as long as a new one, for I intend to have it repaired.”
Lord Brisbane nodded. “It is not badly damaged, true, and I am sure once it is back to its fine form it will bring in a pretty penny.”
This was precisely what Diana had intended to do, but somehow it irritated her to have him say it. It was hers, her uncle had given it to her, and it was the only thing she had of him except for memories. She would not even have a home, only if this Lord Brisbane so decreed. Rebellion rose: the curricle was hers and she would say what would be done with it, not him.
She smiled grimly. “I shall repair it—and then drive it.”
Lord Brisbane’s brows rose, in skepticism, she thought. “I believe that is not wise.”
Diana looked him in the eyes, her chin tilting a fraction higher. “I am very experienced in driving it, believe me. My uncle taught me, and he was confident in my abilities.”
“And yet,” Lord Brisbane said gently, “he met his end with this carriage.”
“Are you saying my uncle had his accident because he was at fault?” Diana demanded. His lordship merely gazed at her, his eyes half closed, looking down his nose at her as if again in skepticism. It infuriated her. “His lordship was a superior horseman and whip. He belonged to the Four-in-Hand Club. No one, no one, can say he could not handle his horses.” “And yet, this time, he did not.”
“I do not expect you to understand such things,” she said, looking him up and down, barely able to conceal her anger, and squashing down a growing dread. “Perhaps there was some fault with the carriage, the way it was made, that did not appear until that moment. I don’t know, but whatever it was, I intend to have it repaired. But it was not Uncle Charles’s fault.”
“If your uncle was such a good driver, how was it that he did not notice anything awry from the outset?”
“If there was anything awry with the carriage he most certainly would have noticed it, and if not he, then McKinney, our head groom.”
“But the groom noticed nothing as well?”
“No.”
Lord Brisbane ran his hand over a curve of the carriage in a contemplative manner. He glanced at her. “I understand this McKinney has been in your uncle’s employ for many years.” It was a statement, but with just a hint of a question in it.
Diana frowned. She had heard of landlords who, upon inheriting an estate, proceeded to rid themselves of all the old servants and replace them with their own handpicked ones. It was a stupid practice, inefficient, and bound to cause ill will in the surrounding neighborhood. “If you are thinking of blaming McKinney for the accident or of discharging him from his post, I would advise against it. The man has been employed here since my uncle was a very young man, and his service has been loyal and faultless. Indeed, he felt most deeply regarding the accident and proffered his resignation, which I refused to consider.”
“You?”
Diana blushed lightly; it was not her place to accept or decline a servant’s employment unless it was her own, personal, servant. “McKinney was distraught, and Uncle Charles had said more than a few times that my word was as good as his when it came to the stables,” she said stiffly. “If you must know, I directed him to Sir James, thinking he would be the heir.”
“Ah.”
That was all he said, an unassuming sound, but it made her very conscious that she had presumed, and presumed wrongly. “Sir James will not have discharged him, I am sure,” she said.
“Mmm hmm,” he said, gazing at her thoughtfully.
Diana shifted her feet uncomfortably. “I am sure McKinney is about somewhere. You may speak to him yourself.”
“Is he?”
“But of course. I saw him—” She stopped and realized she had not seen McKinney lately. “Surely Sir James did not . . .”
“There may be some other explanation for why McKinney is not here,” Lord Brisbane said.
Diana made herself look at him, but she could not hold his gaze long, for remorse hit her hard. “I have presumed a great deal,” she said. “And I was wrong to do so. I . . .I apologize.”
“Yes,” he replied, but there was no censure in his voice. She felt a finger under her chin and she stared at him. He smiled slightly. “Come, cousin, it is no tragedy. Let us be frank: I well know that your uncle’s wish that we wed was unexpected, and highly unusual. Would it be less awkward for you to know that I had no knowledge of it? I met your uncle only a year ago, when he first found me, and because of business our subsequent meetings were infrequent. Had I known of the conditions, I would have protested, of course. I am not certain why he decided we should suit, but he did, and made it nearly impossible for you not to comply.”
“Mama said it was perhaps the closest he could come to giving me the estate . . . he thought of me as a daughter, almost a son, I think.” His hand left her chin, and she looked down at her hands, then up at the earl again. “Then, too, perhaps he thought it the best way to take care of me and my mother.”
“I wonder, then, that he did not give you a larger annuity.”
She shook her head. “Uncle Charles was never one to reveal his reasons, and we had never real cause to ask, for our lives had always run smoothly while he was with us. I am sure everyone on the estate thought so.”
“Which makes me seem very much the interloper, I see,” Lord Brisbane said, smiling wryly. “Making it even more difficult to see me as a prospective husband and heir to the estate.”
Diana felt definitely guilty now, but made herself look directly at him. “Yes, that is true, and I am sorry for it. My uncle was held in highest esteem by everyone; it would be difficult to accept the presence of any heir, but to have a complete stranger makes it even more difficult.”
“Held in esteem by everyone? He had no enemies? No detractors?” Lord Brisbane shook his head and p
ut on a morose expression. “I have a great deal to live up to, indeed. Most certainly I shall fail, and the estates will fall to ruin.”
Diana cast him a suspicious look, then laughed reluctantly. “You need not try to pull the wool over my eyes, my lord. I suspect you are quite capable of managing this estate, and it is no doubt one reason my uncle saw fit to want you to marry me.”
He raised his brows in question. “And how do you know?”
“I am honest enough to admit you are more perceptive than I had given you credit for. You talked of business—I suppose you were not precisely an idle man, for your hands are not as smooth as I suppose a dandy’s might be. Since your clothes are of a fine cut, I imagine your business endeavors were successful. I suspect you were in trade; you seem to be familiar with the making of carriages, or at least woodworking of some kind. Then you mention you were familiar with illnesses and healing.” She smiled slightly. “I imagine you must be engaged in some sort of merchant shipping. Such a business would at once give a man the opportunity for making a fortune”—she gestured at his Bath superfine coat—“thus enabling him to buy whatever he wishes in clothes, and give him the opportunities to learn of ships and their construction. The illnesses and healing—one would have to be more self-reliant regarding these things if one had to travel to foreign lands.”
“Well, well.” Lord Brisbane rocked back on his heels, then smiled widely. “I congratulate you, cousin; you are correct on all points. Very perceptive. I see it would not do to underestimate you.”
Diana grinned. “You are correct, my lord, it would not. Be warned!”
“I am grateful for the warning. You are a formidable woman, to be sure. It is a good thing I had not the intention of asking you to marry me; I had a distinct feeling it would displease you.” His voice was solemn, but she thought she saw his lips turn up for a moment.
“Very wise of you not to wish to propose to me, for you would be living under the sign of the cat’s foot, and no man could wish a marriage like that.” She shrugged off the feeling of discontent. She had never had a proposal before, why shouldn’t she have one now, even if it had been dictated by Uncle Charles? She turned to leave the carriage house and Lord Brisbane moved in step with her.
“Now there, cousin, your perception has failed you.” He gave her a small, crooked smile. “I wanted to marry you the moment I saw you, and have no fear at all of being henpecked.”
Chapter 4
Diana stumbled, and Lord Brisbane’s hand came up under her elbow to steady her. She stared at him. “You jest, surely.”
“No, alas, I do not.” His smile widened, and his normally sleepy look had fled, replaced by sparkling mischief instead.
“You are jesting, and trifling with me,” Diana said, and marched toward the house. “Do not, for I dislike it, and as you said, I am a formidable woman, and could make more trouble for you than you could like.” She could not believe him, of course, but she did not repel him with her words as she could have; an irresistible curiosity as to what he would say next stayed her.
“Behold me trembling,” Lord Brisbane said, his long legs easily keeping up with her.
“Oh, you are odious!” She eyed him sternly. “You cannot have fallen in love with me, not in such a short time.”
“Love at first sight.”
Diana blushed. “Nonsense! There is no such thing.”
Lord Brisbane sighed. “So I thought, myself. But there you were, rain-soaked and beautiful, and I was instantly lost.”
“Lost on the road, not in any other wise,” she retorted. “You are making fun of me, for none of that can be true.”
“Of course it is true. You were definitely rain-soaked.”
“Oh, and you are in the habit of falling in love with rain-soaked women, is that it?”
“Not at all,” Lord Brisbane said. “However, if a woman is beautiful, it would certainly be an incentive.”
She frowned. “Now I know you are hoaxing me. I am not at all beautiful. I am too tall for that.”
“Not for me.”
Diana looked up at him—obviously this was true. “Well . . . well, then, I am not fashionable.”
“Fashion does not make for beauty.”
“Quite the contrary,” she said. “I have had my Season in London, and know that it’s your fashionable sylph who is much feted. Fashion does indeed dictate what is beautiful.” She wrinkled her nose. “I am not sylphlike; therefore I am not beautiful.”
He cocked his head and looked at her. “No one has ever admitted admiring you?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, of course not.”
“More fool they.” He shot a quick, laughing glance at her. “No doubt they were intimidated by your formidableness.”
“I am not—” She stopped and closed her mouth, belatedly remembering that she had indeed agreed she was formidable. She gave him a sour look. “Believe me, I was as meek as my Aunt Matchett could make me.”
“Impossible,” he replied. “Nothing could subdue those magnificently flashing and scornful eyes—are they gray or blue? Blue, I believe.”
“They are pale blue,” Diana said firmly. “And they neither flash nor are they scornful.”
“No? They seem to be, now.”
She let out an exasperated breath. “Only because you are the most provoking man imaginable.”
Lord Brisbane shook his head mournfully. “Worse and worse. First I am odious and now I am provoking. A very good thing I decided not to propose to you; you would have refused me immediately and I would have been cast into abject despair.”
“I doubt it,” Diana replied, banishing a slight feeling of discontent. “Count yourself fortunate: I am persuaded you would not wish to marry a woman you hardly know, and I would much rather live on a pittance than marry a complete stranger.”
His lordship’s expression lightened. “How gratifying to find you are not mercenary and not looking to marry a fortune or a title. Should I ever take it in my head to propose to you, I shall do so in happy confidence that your acceptance would come from your heart.”
“And if I were to decline?”
“There would be nothing for it but I must put a period to my existence,” Lord Brisbane said cheerfully.
Diana stopped, then turned to stare at him, her hands on her hips. “My lord, I think you must be the strangest man I have ever met.”
He appeared to consider her words seriously, then shook his head. “Since your sojourn in London was so short and you have grown up in the country most of your life, I cannot think your experience of men to be very great at all.” He smiled. “I am quite normal, truly.”
He had an answer for everything it seemed, but Diana’s annoyance with him was weak at best. She smiled slightly. This conversation was indeed the most peculiar she had ever had with anyone, but somehow her irritation was mixed heavily with a certain exhilaration. She had never traded quick and spirited words with a man before; her conversations in London had always been awkwardly constrained or excruciatingly polite. Indeed, she noted in surprise, the awkwardness she had felt when she first met this new Lord Brisbane had disappeared.
“You are smiling, I see,” he said. “But I assure you, no one has ever accused me of being odd.”
“Really?” Diana could not help chuckling. “I am surprised, my lord.” She continued walking to the house.
He frowned suddenly, falling into step beside her. “Now that is a problem—I am not at all used to being called ‘my lord.’ It makes me feel quite strange, and is no doubt an explanation for my behavior—if, as you say, it is strange.”
Diana gave a snort of laughter, only half suppressed when she pressed her hand over her mouth.
“Indeed,” he continued, “every time I hear it, I am hard-pressed not to turn around and look for someone much older and more dignified than I.” He smiled as suddenly as he had frowned and said, “However much I might seem strange to you, in the interests of not being as much of a stranger, I would be hono
red if you could call me Gavin, cousin.”
She was silent for a moment while he opened the door of the house for her. She felt a little uncomfortable, but he was a cousin, however distantly related, and she felt she should make up for her earlier presumption. She nodded and stepped through the doorway. “Very well . . . Gavin. And you may call me Diana.”
He gazed at her intently for a moment then smiled. “Diana it is, then. Thank you.” And he entered the house behind her.
They had not gone but two steps into the hall when a door opened at the top of the stairs and Mrs. Carlyle appeared.
“There you are!” she exclaimed upon seeing them, and descended the stairs. “I have been searching for you, Mr. Sinc—that is, Lord Brisbane.”
Diana grimaced. “I am sorry, Mama, I forgot that you wished to speak to him—I met him at the carriage house. I should have requested he speak to you immediately.”
Mrs. Carlyle nodded, then hesitated before saying, “My lord . . .”
The earl smiled as he bowed over her hand. “Please, Mrs. Carlyle, the title sits ill on me. I would be pleased if you could call me Gavin.”
Mrs. Carlyle smiled then continued. “Gavin, then. I have been meaning to ask you . . . it is very awkward, for we have no real claim upon you. But if you would be so kind as to let my daughter and me stay for perhaps a month or two, at least until we can find another place to stay, before we leave—”
Gavin’s brows rose. “Leave? Must you? I have been looking forward to your showing me how to go on, for I know none of the servants, as I am sure you must. Indeed, I am a lazy fellow, and would prefer to have as little to do with the running of the household as possible. I was hoping you—and your daughter—would stay and act the hostess for me until such time I acquire a wife.” He glanced quickly at Diana, then returned his gaze to Mrs. Carlyle.
Miss Carlyle's Curricle: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) Page 5
