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

by Karen Harbaugh

  “You’ll regret this, Diana,” he said, his manner suddenly smooth. “You’ll not get the title or the money in the end.”

  “I care not,” she said sharply. “I would marry him even if he were not the Earl of Brisbane, or even Gavin Sinclair.” A movement at her side took her attention, and she looked up to see surprise on the earl’s face. She lifted her chin, then turned to the vicar. “I thank you, Vicar Southworthy; you may proceed.”

  A slight chuckle came from beside her. “Yes, Vicar, I think you had better, else our lady fire-eater will turn upon us, and then we shall both be in the suds.”

  The vicar merely nodded, his gaze avoiding the earl’s. Diana looked from him to the earl and back again; a tension remained, despite Sir James’s departure. Mr. Southworthy continued, drawing Diana’s attention again to the ceremony.

  But the energy of anger and indignation that had infused her suddenly left, now that the trouble was over, and she began to feel numb. Her voice answered the vicar, repeated the words, but she could not remember what she said, for the trembling went through her again, and she stiffened her spine and concentrated on banishing the shaking feeling that made her knees want to bend and fall to the floor. She would be strong. She was strong, and would not faint or act in a silly manner.

  She heard the word “kiss” and looked up, startled, and felt Lord Brisbane’s fingers under her chin, and his hand at her waist. Her breath came quickly as she looked into his eyes, for they held a deep warmth, as if a fire barely banked lived in them. And then his lips came over hers, softly, and she held on to him, for she felt her knees could not hold her up for all her determination that they must.

  They parted, and he smiled at her, then turned away from the altar, still holding her. She was glad of his support; she could pretend that she could indeed walk, and that she was not shaking, and could even smile and return her mother’s teary hug and kiss, and gravely accept Mr. Goldworthy’s congratulations.

  This time Gavin helped her up into the coach, and when the door closed upon them, he moved to sit beside her, even though there would be more room if he sat opposite. He took her hand in his and brought her hand to his lips, smiling.

  “Well, that was an eventful ceremony. I am sorry it was upsetting for you; I wish I could have made it better.”

  Diana managed to return the smile. “I was not upset,” she said and glanced nervously away.

  “Liar,” he said. “It was terrible for you. You were shaking like a leaf.”

  She glared at him. “No, I wasn’t! I—” She caught the understanding glint in his eyes and looked down at her lap, her spark of anger gone. “Yes, I was shaking. I was afraid I was going to faint, and I worked very hard not to.” She looked at him defiantly. “And I did not faint.”

  “You did extremely well, Lady Fire-eater. I thank you for your defense.” He put his arm around her. “You are still trembling.” He stroked her shoulder, and then his fingers came up to the back of her neck, kneading it gently. She sighed and closed her eyes, tipped back her head, and felt her spine un-stiffen. Another, deeper, sigh released itself, and her hands fell open on her lap.

  A chuckle made her open her eyes again. “I see you are feeling better.”

  She smiled. “Yes, thank you.” She cocked her head at him. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  “On my travels,” he replied, and fell silent.

  She made a disgusted snort. “Oh, you—! You never tell me anything. You shall, eventually, you know. I refuse to stay in the same house as a stranger for a husband.” Husband. Her combined irritation and amusement fell from her and she stared at him. He was her husband, and they were married until death did them part. Forever. She swallowed, and looked down at her clasped hands in her lap.

  He took her hand again, lightly stroking her palm with his thumb. “Look at me, Diana,” he said. She raised her eyes to his, and he touched her cheek. “Don’t be afraid. Whatever I am, you need not be afraid of me.” He drew close and kissed her, gently, briefly. “Is that anything to be afraid of?”

  “No,” she said, still staring at him, and feeling a little disappointed at such a brief touch.

  He kissed her again, more firmly. “Is that?” His hand held her waist and drew her closer.

  “No.” She found she was grasping tightly his other hand and her breath came a little faster.

  “Or this?” he asked, and he pulled her very close and kissed her deeply.

  She did not answer, and she did not want to, but held his hand tighter, her other one coming up to grab his coat’s lapel. For all that the coach was dim and closed, she wanted to be closer to him, to burrow into him somehow. His lips left hers, but she could feel his mouth on her cheek, then her chin, then the touch of his lips through the lace on her shoulder.

  The coach came to an abrupt halt, jolting them. They parted, and Diana stared at him, breathing quickly, watching how he stared in return, then shifted his gaze to her lips as if he wanted to kiss her again.

  “I need to see that the coach springs are replaced,” Diana said breathlessly.

  His brows rose and his lips quirked up briefly. “How so?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

  “So they won’t jolt us the next time we ki—” She stopped and pressed her hands to her face, trying to suppress the blush that flared in her cheeks.

  A shout of laughter broke from the earl. “Yes, definitely the springs must be replaced.” He took her hand in his and gestured at the footman who had just stepped up to the coach and was opening the door. “Shall we go? Our guests await,” he said.

  Diana nodded, somehow feeling less anxious than she thought she would. The wedding dinner would be small, and the celebration afterward short, for they were still in mourning. She should go through that well if she concentrated on it, and then she could think of the next thing—

  Her mind veered from it, and she gave herself a mental scolding as they ascended the steps to Brisbane House. The footman at the door grinned and opened the door for them, and she smiled and nodded in return. The butler’s smile was just as happy as he bowed to them. She remembered the cheery faces of the maids who had dressed her for the wedding, and how the stableboy had whistled a song as he had taken the reins of the carriage horses, despite the black crepe that had been on every wall of the house a little more than two months ago.

  They were happy for her; the wedding had brought joy to her home, and for at least a while they could celebrate.

  Home. Her home. This was her home! She looked about the great hall with new eyes. She was the mistress of Brisbane House, no longer a hanger-on. How foolish she had been for not thinking of it! She remembered when she had first come here, how full of light and freshness it had been after the darkness of London, and how free she had felt from the dirt and the fear.

  Joy flooded her, and filled her eyes with tears. She would not fear having to leave, this was forever her place, her home. She gazed at Gavin, her husband—yes, her husband—who, in marrying her, had given it to her. She squeezed his arm tightly, just as they came to the drawing room door.

  “Gavin . . . I am home! This is my home!”

  He grinned. “Yes, of course it is. You are now Lady Brisbane, mistress of Brisbane House. Did you not know it?”

  She laughed out of sheer delight. “No, yes—I had not thought about it. But now I am, and oh, I may live in this wonderful bright place forever!” She reached up to touch his cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.” Tentatively, she tiptoed and placed her lips on his. His breath seemed to catch when she had touched him, and he pulled her to him, and this time his kiss was deep and hungry.

  A clearing of the throat made them part—heavens, they had kissed in front of the footmen! Diana’s face grew warm and she shook her head, pressing a hand to her cheek. How could she have forgotten herself? A glance at one of the footmen showed a wide grin before the butler’s stern gaze wiped it from his face.

  But Diana’s joy could not be erased. The
door opened to the drawing room, and more happy faces greeted her: her mother, Mr. Goldworthy, the neighbors—Lord and Lady Jardien and their son, the Dunnings and the Maddens, among others. To be sure, there was curiosity on their faces, and she had overheard some of the maids say that some invited guests had declined to come because of the scandal of the recent finding in the cottage. But this once she did not let the curiosity and the intense attention to her dampen her spirits. Brisbane House, her sanctuary, was hers, and Gavin was the cause of this very great gift.

  There was no dancing, of course, but there was music; her mother played, and another guest, and another. Even Miss Colesby had brought her harp, and this time Diana thought she played excellently with great talent. Gavin stayed by her side, leaving her only a few times to speak with guests or Mr. Goldworthy. She would look up from time to time and each time he was staring at her, and then would smile, and she discovered that she did not mind him looking at her so much at all.

  Soon they moved to the dining room, and Diana ate with gusto, not caring that her appetite was not ladylike. The food was rich and sumptuous, with pheasant and mutton, and more removes than she could count. She laughed and talked, more than she could ever remember doing, and she did not even mind Desmond Jardien gazing at her with envious admiration.

  The ladies and gentlemen parted after dinner, and her mother came to her, holding out her hands, then clasping Diana’s tightly.

  “Oh, my dear, it does my heart good to see you happy,” she said, her own face lighted with joy. “I was afraid you did not like Gavin, or perhaps the thought of marriage . . .” She hesitated. “Because of mine, you see . . .”

  She hugged her mother. “No, Mama, never blame yourself. I know you did the best you could, and I know there are marriages that are happy.” She gave a smiling glance to Lady Jardien next to her. “I only need to see Lord and Lady Jardien together to know that.”

  “And if your marriage is half as happy as ours, then you will be a fortunate woman, Miss—” Lady Jardien chuckled. “No, it’s not ‘miss’ anymore, is it. Lady Brisbane?”

  Hearing the name and title applied to her was a shock—Diana had thought of herself as Miss Carlyle forever. She looked at Lady Jardien and wondered if she would be as happy with Gavin as the woman before her was with her husband. She did not know, and she realized she had pushed aside the question whenever it had occurred to her.

  She only nodded, however, to Lady Jardien, and then looked up to see the door opening and the gentlemen entering the room. Gavin’s eyes sought her out and found her; he smiled and came toward her. A warmth rose in her heart; she recognized it as something that had occurred before in his presence, but she had pushed that aside, as well. I cannot push aside any questions, not any more, Diana thought. I have made myself deliberately blind to so much—the people around me, and most of all, my own life. I can perceive clearly if I let myself. It is a weakness not to. And I will be strong.

  Gavin came to her side at last, after pausing to speak with this guest or that. He lifted her hand to his lips and gazed at her long and seriously. She looked at him in return and smiled. “I am glad I married you, Gavin,” she said.

  “Are you?” His brows rose, then he nodded. “I suppose it would be more comfortable living here than it would—”

  She put her hand over his lips. “No. I know you were going to make a joke, and I know what you were going to say. Don’t say it.”

  Quick anger passed over his face, then he gave her an apologetic look. “Stupid of me. I was distracted, and did not think of how my words might have affected you.”

  “Besides,” Diana said, “I find I am glad not because I am Lady Brisbane, or because I am now mistress of this house.” She cast him an uncertain look, wondering if she should say it, if he would wish to hear it, and if it were too bold of her to mention it. She took a deep breath. “I believe you are the best sort of man I could possibly hope to marry, and perhaps in time our . . . our regard for each other will be mutually satisfactory.”

  He grinned widely. “If I did not know better, I would think you were about to shake hands over a shipping partnership. No, I am sorry—” He took her hand, keeping her from moving from him, and bent close to her ear, whispering. “I dare not admit it aloud, but I believe I am as unsettled as a cat regarding the state of matrimony, and must make jokes to cover it up. There, I have admitted a shameful, unmanly sin: cowardice. You must not come to such hasty conclusions about me without knowing my vices, or surely your regard for me will not be . . . satisfactory.”

  She looked at him askance, watching his expression for any hint of insincerity. But there was no laughing glint in his eyes, and there was a stillness behind his smile. She nodded thoughtfully. “And yet,” she said, “when I ask about your travels or your life, you say very little about them, if anything.”

  “My travels are the least of your concerns,” he said in a light voice. But his expression was the same, and he moved away from her to converse with Lord Jardien.

  She watched him from time to time as she talked with various guests. He was congenial and from time to time she heard him laugh at a joke, or make a flippant remark. He was right that she did not know him, and she was right that he would not reveal much of himself. She did not know how she could change that, but she could try. Most certainly, she would find out what was behind the altercation in the church.

  The sunlight dimmed, and candles were lit, but the guests did not seem eager to stay. They gave the newly wed pair sly looks, and though Diana tried her best to ignore them, she could not help blushing. Her mother and Mr. Goldworthy were more discreet; they hid their smiles behind yawns and claims of fatigue. The servants, clearing the glasses, remained after the guests left, but their yawns were not feigned, and they hurried through their duties.

  And then, at last, the bride and groom were alone. Diana sat in a chair and gazed at Gavin standing near the fireplace, how the firelight moved the night’s shadows over his face, hiding and revealing. He leaned against one end of the mantelpiece, and twirled the stem of a brandy glass between his fingers. The brandy left in it swirled and dipped, then slid down the side of the glass in a golden film. He gazed at it for a moment, then quickly drank it down.

  “Shall we go, Diana?” he said.

  “Yes,” she said, rose from her chair, and held out her hand to him. He stared at her hand for a moment, then at her face, then set down the glass on the mantelpiece and clasped her hand.

  He led the way up the stairs, and brought her to her new room. She touched the door, but did not go in—another change, she thought. Gazing at him, she tiptoed and kissed him, and felt his arms come around her. But it was a brief kiss, and he looked intently at her when they parted, as if trying to see into her soul.

  “Is this what you want, Diana?” he said. “This marriage?”

  She watched him silently for a moment, then slowly nodded. “I believe it is. There is not a great deal for a woman like myself to do in the world, after all. I was not sure I would like to be married to anyone, but it is not as if I could truly make a living as a groom or a stableboy. And marriage, I suppose, is a sort of occupation.” She smiled slightly. “Besides, it is not as if we can do anything about it now that we are wed but make the best of it.” She looked at him steadily. “And I am glad it is you I married, even though I do not know a great deal about you, as you said.”

  “You are a fool, my dear,” he said, but his voice was soft, and his fingers caressed her cheek.

  “And yet, you have said you wanted to marry me.”

  “I am a fool, as well.”

  “Then we are well matched, are we not?” she said, and moved away. She curtsied, and opened the door. “I give you good night, sir,” she said, and went into her room.

  Chapter 12

  Diana leaned against the closed door, wondering if she was indeed a fool, but it was of no use to speculate about the foolishness or wisdom of marrying Lord Brisbane. It was done, and she would deal with
whatever came her way. She would not pretend this or that thing did not exist, but face it. She let out a long sigh, then nodded to the maid, who stood ready to help her change for the night.

  Her nightgown was new, made of sheer cotton lawn, and embroidered with eyelets on the bodice. She had never worn anything like it, usually sleeping in an old shift. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she smoothed the fabric over her knees, then waved the maid away with a smile when the girl yawned once too often. The door closed behind her, and Diana was alone.

  She looked around her room. The few lit candles and the fire in the hearth showed a pretty room, decorated in a light color, not discernible in the dimness. She had never been in this room before—she supposed it belonged to the last Lady Brisbane. She was now the countess, and—she glanced at the connecting door—and she would see her husband soon.

  Her feet grew cold, and she moved into her bed, tucking them under the covers. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked away the minutes, but the door between her room and Gavin’s did not open. Would he come into her room? She had understood that this was usually the way of it from what her mother had told her.

  But another hour passed, and the door still did not open. Diana gnawed on her lower lip. Perhaps Gavin wished her to be comfortable in her room first; perhaps he would come to her tomorrow night. She could pretend that this was her usual room, and that she would sleep as usual. Her eyes scanned the walls of her room again. It seemed cold and unfriendly despite what she could see of its decoration.

  She stared at the connecting door. No. Did she not say she would not pretend any longer? She was married, and it was best if she dealt with whatever came with it without delay. Moving her feet to the floor, she slid off the bed, and almost stumbled. She was shaking again. Muttering a curse she had heard a stableboy use, she clenched her hands into fists and lifted her chin. If Gavin would not come to her, she would go to him.