Miss Carlyle's Curricle: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix)

by Karen Harbaugh

  Mrs. Carlyle looked, puzzled, from Diana’s heated face to Lord Brisbane, then said, “Are you looking about you for a wife, then?”

  He grinned. “Not particularly, for I believe I have found one that I would like very well, but the set of her mind is such that it will be a while before she can even begin to see me as a prospective husband.” Diana shot him a fulminating look, and wished very much to box his ears.

  “Well, you are an earl now, with property, so perhaps that might help persuade her.”

  “Alas, no, I have found that such things have little value for the lady. I believe character is of more importance to her.”

  “I suppose it is well that she looks for virtue in a husband rather than property,” Mrs. Carlyle replied, “but she must not be very practical if your changed estate is not a consideration.” She paused, looking at Gavin uncertainly. “However, if you are sure you wish Diana and me to stay here until you are married, I shall be happy to act as your hostess meanwhile.”

  “Perhaps even beyond that,” Gavin replied.

  Mrs. Carlyle smiled wryly. “I doubt that, my lord, unless you intend to comply with the will and ask Diana to marry you, to which—and I mean no offense, sir—she may not agree, being a headstrong young lady.”

  Diana could stand it no longer. “I have already told Gavin that I am reluctant to comply with that part of the will and am content to live with the portion already given me, rather than marry a complete stranger,” she said in a suffocated voice. “We really do not need to discuss it further.”

  Mrs. Carlyle smiled slightly, and Diana realized that she had used Lord Brisbane’s Christian name without thinking. He was, therefore, not as much of a stranger as before.

  Diana groaned. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. This is not a time to think of marriages or that silly condition in the will, and I swear I shall run away to a . . . a convent if you mention anything even close to this subject.”

  “Indeed, yes,” Lord Brisbane replied somberly. “Very inappropriate, so soon after such a terrible loss to the family.”

  Mrs. Carlyle sighed sadly. “Indeed, and you are right to say so, my lord, for though I am sure my brother-in-law would have disliked all this sad ceremony, it would not be proper to do anything less than the best for him. We shall observe the proper length of time for mourning, and then we shall think of marriages. Meanwhile . . .” She cast Diana an arch look. “Meanwhile, it would be quite appropriate to invite our neighbors to a few dinners or quiet entertainments, so that you may look about you for a prospective wife—and do I assume from your words that you are open to having a wife?”

  Diana gritted her teeth.

  “Indeed I am, Mrs. Carlyle,” his lordship said. “At the very least, it is my duty.”

  “Very proper.” She nodded approvingly. “Well, then, I shall do my best to introduce you to all the good families of our acquaintance.”

  “Thank you,” he said gravely.

  “And I,” Diana said in as sweet a voice as her vexed temper could summon, “shall make sure every mother of every eligible young lady in this county knows you are looking for a wife. Just think of the hordes and hordes of ladies who will come calling once they know the position of countess is open.”

  “Diana!” Mrs. Carlyle remonstrated.

  But Lord Brisbane merely smiled pleasantly. “I shall be very grateful, of course.”

  Diana gazed at him suspiciously. There was, she thought, just a bit of a challenge in his voice. Very well! He had said she was a formidable woman. He would see how right he was.

  ***

  Lord Brisbane said nothing more of his feelings for her in the succeeding days, and Diana became annoyed at herself for wondering if he would again. Not that she wished him to mention them again; she was not in love with him, so it did not matter. He teased by innuendo, however, gazing at her whenever anyone spoke the words “heart” or “sentiment” or any other word of that sort. It gave her the distinct feeling that he would broach the subject again sometime in the future.

  To be honest, she thought it would be pleasant to hear it again, particularly because she had never heard anything remotely close to a proposal from any man. It was a novelty, that was it.

  She was not in any way falling in love with him or even fond of him—impossible! They had nothing in common, for he was still a dandy and quite citified, arising late in the morning as was the custom in the city, rather than earlier as was the custom here. His valet, a thin whippet of a man, seemed to disdain the other servants, who were quite in awe of him. It was rumored that he shined his master’s boots with a secretly made bootblack, and that Lord Brisbane would spend at least an hour in front of the mirror perfecting the folds of his neckcloth.

  Diana had no use for such vanity and frivolity. Indeed, she had more serious things on her mind: no one had seen McKinney after the day of the accident. She had searched, had asked around the local villages about him, but no one seemed to know what had happened to the head groom. He had a few friends in the village, but they had not seen him; perhaps he had returned to family in Ireland, they said.

  It was possible, but Diana did not think that he would have left without taking his leave of her. He had taught her to ride her first horse, and had given her good advice about training them as she grew from child to young woman; indeed, she had come to see him more as a friend than a servant.

  She could not ask Sir James, since he had gone to London, not long after the funeral, which frustrated her. If McKinney had gone to Sir James and offered his resignation, then Sir James would have been able to tell her whether he had accepted the resignation or not.

  Not even the stablehands knew what had happened to the groom, which seemed exceedingly odd, for McKinney had prided himself in running a tightly organized stable, and never went on holiday without making sure all duties were accounted for. Indeed, he ran the place so well and so unobtrusively that it was no wonder she had not noticed his absence immediately, for the place ran just as smoothly without him. Under his instruction, the other grooms knew exactly what to do, and when. Lord Brisbane seemed satisfied with their service and said the groom just under McKinney—Joe Baggins—was a promising young man and could fill McKinney’s shoes just as well. Since Diana knew Joe had a will of iron and could run the stables efficiently with just a word or two in his gentle voice, she could not protest this appointment. But she felt hurt, no different than if a dear friend had turned his back on her without a word of explanation.

  It was with relief, then, that Diana walked to the stables one day to find Sir James riding in. She was dressed in her habit, ready to go out for a morning ride on her gelding, Lightning. She gazed at Sir James’s mare, a showy piece and well-muscled, but a nervous beast. She wondered if the horse would be less nervous if Sir James had not been riding it. She winced as he came to a stop, the reins pulling just a little too hard on the mare’s mouth.

  Sit straighter, and not like a sack of potatoes, she wanted to say to him, and don’t be so ham-handed, but she had promised her mother that she would not judge people by their seat on a horse, and knew that it would be rude, besides. But really, the man had one of the worst hands and seats she’d ever seen. She put a smile on her face, however, and greeted him, and he gave a brief bow over her hand after he dismounted.

  His gaze flickered over her hands, and he smiled sardonically. “Well, I see you are not married yet.”

  “Of course I am not,” she said, irritated. “There is no reason why I should be.”

  “He couldn’t come up to scratch, eh?” She opened her mouth, then shut it again, wanting badly to tell him that Lord Brisbane had said he had fallen in love with her. But she was sure the earl was jesting, and she knew Sir James would mention it in company and set everyone to chattering. Sir James had a way of casually letting drop interesting bits of gossip, sometimes to fuel some bet or other he had made, but sometimes just to stir rumors and bring attention on himself. If she told him, he would mention it, and that migh
t move Lord Brisbane to propose marriage out of honor, and she did not want to be put in such an uncomfortable position.

  “That is none of your business,” she said, knowing her reply would make him think that the earl had not one inclination to propose. Once more, she would have failed to get herself a husband and failed to keep herself and her mother from being hangers-on to the new earl. She burned with humiliation, but kept her face serene and shrugged. “And there are more important things than that at the moment.” She hesitated, then said, “Have you seen McKinney, our head groom? I have not seen him since the day of the accident. He had given me his resignation, and I referred him to you, thinking you would be Uncle Charles’s heir.” But then, you are not the heir, she thought, and almost smiled to see irritation flash over Sir James’s face.

  He stared at her for a moment before saying, “No, he did not come to see me, cousin. I have not seen him since . . . I think it was the day the will was read.” A small crease formed between his eyebrows, but the rest of his face remained impassive. “Unfortunate,” he continued, “for I wished to speak to him myself.” Sir James took the reins of the horse and led it toward the stables.

  Diana looked at her cousin questioningly. “Is there something amiss?”

  “Only a few questions about the accident. I have no great confidence in the stability of that curricle.” His taut smile was a warning. “It would be best to sell it after it’s repaired. Or burn it, tethers and all, if the sight of it might cause you pain.”

  “I am not as weak as that,” Diana said, and lifted her chin. “I had thought of selling it, but I mean to have it repaired and drive it.”

  He gazed at her in silence for a moment, then his smile turned indulgent. “I wonder if you should.”

  “If you mean that there is something wrong with the curricle, then the problem should be fixed when it is repaired.”

  “And if that is not the problem?”

  “Are you suggesting that I cannot drive it?” Diana demanded. “I assure you, I have driven it any number of times before the accident. I have never had a problem with it before.”

  “I, however, have not seen you drive it without your uncle accompanying you.”

  “That is because you did not visit Brisbane House regularly, and so missed those occasions I drove it alone.”

  “That may be,” Sir James replied, “but that was before the accident.” He smiled skeptically. “Technique makes up more than half one’s driving skill, but confidence makes for the rest. I’m willing to wager your confidence has been severely shaken after seeing your uncle—ah, forgive me. It is a delicate subject, is it not? One that most ladies would prefer not to discuss.”

  Or have been present to see, Diana mentally finished for him. She gazed at his bored expression, and realized what it was that always irritated her about Sir James. It was that dismissive air he wore whenever he spoke to her, as if her thoughts and words were trivial and her opinion of no consequence. It made her feel diminished, and she did not like it. Perhaps it was why she disliked London so, confined not only by the tight corsets her Aunt Matchett forced upon her, but by the circumscribed set of subjects her aunt had decided were fit for a lady to converse upon, and what events and functions a lady was allowed to attend.

  “Few people care to discuss such things, true,” she said carefully, not wanting to be put at a disadvantage. “However, such grievous incidents do happen, and it serves no one well to ignore the fact.”

  “Even so, a lady of delicate sensibilities would have avoided the situation altogether,” he said.

  There, it was out, he had said it at last—apparently she had no delicacy at all. Sir James clearly felt the realm of carriages and carriage races to be beyond the scope of understanding of women. She could have understood his reluctance to believe in her skill if he had not seen her drive, as Lord Brisbane—Gavin—had not. But Sir James had seen her drive, and it did not convince him. It made angry heat rush to her face, and she held her tongue between her teeth to keep from spitting out the hasty words that built up behind them.

  “I am glad I was there, Sir James,” she said evenly, when she could. “At least I can rest easy at night, knowing, however little I or anyone else could have done, that I could at least give my uncle some comfort before he died.”

  “I suppose it is useful to be strong-minded,” Sir James replied, looking her up and down, and his tone made Diana feel as if it was vulgar to be so strong.

  Formidable. Suddenly she remembered her conversation with Lord Brisbane; there had been admiration in his voice when he had said the word. Her anger fled, and she smiled, feeling quite cheerful. “Yes, it is very useful. It would have served no one well if I had had the vapors or had gone into strong hysterics.”

  “Indeed,” Sir James said, and looked away, obviously bored. But Diana did not take offense at his manner. In fact she felt unexpectedly lighthearted. Why should she care what Sir James thought of her? Her own mother had not kept her from attending the race, for though Mrs. Carlyle herself did not like such things, she did not think it improper. If her mother—a gentle lady of good conscience and decorum—did not think it amiss for her to be present at her uncle’s race, who was Sir James to criticize? Indeed, there were more important things to attend to at the moment—such as the location of the head groom.

  “But this triviality has sidetracked me,” she said. “If you do not know where McKinney is, then perhaps he approached Lord Brisbane with his resignation.” She frowned, and they stepped into the stable.

  Sir James turned a slightly more interested gaze upon her. “You discussed it between yourselves?” He gestured to a stableboy who took the mare from him.

  “Lord Brisbane brought McKinney’s absence to my attention, in fact,” she said, turning to the stall that held her own horse. Lightning raised his head at her voice and nickered softly, making Diana smile.

  “Indeed, our conversation almost followed the one between you and me—”Except that it had a quite different ending, to be sure! Diana thought, and reached into the stall with a bit of dried apple. The gelding sniffed it and delicately took it between its lips. Diana patted the horse and shook her head ruefully. “But he did not say whether McKinney approached him at all. . . .” She realized that Lord Brisbane had not mentioned it directly; she had only assumed it from what he had said.

  “A word of warning, cousin.”

  She turned to look questioningly at Sir James and raised her brows at his grim expression.

  “His lordship is not all what he seems,” he said.

  She smiled slightly. “Oh, I know that. He is not as lazy as he makes himself out to be.”

  “Far from it,” Sir James replied. “Have you not wondered why it was that you have never heard of Mr. Sinclair until now? Do you know anything of his background or where he came from?”

  Diana gazed at him, startled. “Well, I know he has been in trade . . .” she said slowly. Did she know? She had guessed it from Lord Brisbane’s conversation, and he had said she was very perceptive. He had not, really, confirmed it.

  “A common merchant,” Sir James said. “More or less.” There was a bit of a sneer in his voice. “Possibly less—a nobody.”

  Anger shot through her, quick and hot. “Oh, my,” she said sweetly. “Do I hear regret? Even envy? How inconvenient for you that Gavin appeared to oust you from your inheritance.” Her voice turned hard. “You would do well not to spread rumors regarding Lord Brisbane. It cannot do your consequence any good, for everyone shall know you have been expecting to inherit, and what a comedown that will be for you!”

  Black fury in Sir James’s eyes made Diana take a sudden step back, rustling the hay at her feet, and her horse moved uneasily in its stall. Then the expression was gone, and a thin smile appeared instead.” ‘Gavin,’ is it? Well, well. I see where your interests lie. What a nice performance you gave at the library. I was almost fooled. But you are no different from any other woman.”

  Diana gritte
d her teeth. “We are cousins, and he has permission to call me by my Christian name just as you do for the same reason—James.”

  “But you jump so quickly to his defense, my dear,” Sir James said, mimicking her earlier sweet tone of voice. “And what, really, do you know of him? I, on the other hand, have spent a good deal of time investigating his past while I was in London.”

  She stared at him, at once curious and yet reluctant to take the bait. She shrugged. “My uncle had every confidence in his solicitor. If Bartlett found no fault with the present Lord Brisbane, I am sure no one else should.”

  “You are still convinced of your uncle’s infallibility, are you? And yet you protested the conditions of your dowry at the reading of the will . . . or was that a pretense?”

  She stared into Sir James’s dark eyes, feeling caught, as if she were a fly whose wings he had pinned to a board. “Uncle Charles meant it for the best. That it is not my conception of what is best for me does not erase his concern—his very great concern—for my welfare,” she said at last. She moved to her horse, patting its neck comfortingly.

  He smiled then, and shrugged. “A politic answer. I think you’ll see, however, that the truth regarding the present Lord Brisbane is not in his favor.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I shall not tell you, for you are obviously enamored of him.”

  Diana gave him a level gaze. “You are quite mistaken.”

  Sir James shrugged again. “I advise you to stay away from Lord Brisbane. At best he is nothing but a useless man-milliner, caring for nothing but his clothes. At worst—” He smiled. “Much worse.” He turned and proceeded out of the stables, but turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder at her. “By the way, I would advise you to get yourself another horse—your gelding is much too difficult to handle.”

  “Only for you,” she shot back. She grinned fiercely as he gave her another black look and strode away from her to the house.

  One of the undergrooms saddled Lightning for her. True, the gelding would normally not be seen as a lady’s mount, but few ladies were as tall as she. And true, even her uncle had questioned her choice of a horse. But she had known the moment she had set eyes on the wild-eyed bay colt that this one was hers. And so it was: the bay obeyed only her, and had come willingly to her as she whispered to it and fed it from her own hand. She was the one who trained it as it grew larger and stronger.