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

by Karen Harbaugh

  Mrs. Carlyle visibly melted, and she clasped his hand tightly. “Of course, Gavin! I will do whatever I can to help you, especially if it concerns her safety.”

  He sighed, as if with relief. “Thank you. I knew I could depend on you. If you could, tomorrow, keep her occupied around the noon hour, I would be most grateful. Lady Jardien will call upon you before then, I believe, as her husband has instructed her.”

  She nodded. “Very good,” she said. “We can have a luncheon, and I will be sure that Diana will not leave. She cannot, especially in front of Lady Jardien, for she dare not be so rude after the near-scandal at the musicale.”

  “An excellent scheme,” Gavin replied. He smiled, rising, and bowed slightly. “I thank you.” There, he thought. For all that Diana was headstrong, she clearly loved her mother, and would not want to displease her or disgrace herself in front of her or Lady Jardien. Indeed, he had seen more than a few times Mrs. Carlyle’s stern but loving eye stop Diana before she spoke words she would regret or before she took foolhardy action.

  And yet, as he looked at his wife’s cheerful face and caught again another bland smile, he could not help thinking he should make sure she was better watched. He would put one of the grooms to the duty, if she ventured near the stables. If she proved troublesome, he would have no hesitation tying her to a hay bale if he had to. Better that than risk her life in a carriage accident.

  Chapter 15

  Gavin did not linger in her bed the next morning as he had in days past, Diana noted. He sometimes liked to caress her as she slept, so that at the moment of waking she was ready for him. So he had done this time, but he moved from her after they were done, sooner than before, and his movements as he prepared himself for the day were preoccupied.

  It was today, then, she thought. He would have the race today. Or, if not, she would not be amiss to watch the stables anyway. If there was any more activity than before, that would tell her, to be sure.

  “I am going for my morning ride, Gavin. Would you like to accompany me?” she called to the other room. She rang for her maid, and opened her wardrobe, thinking perhaps she should order another riding dress. Black, of course, for she was still in mourning, but her old one was beginning to fray at the sleeves.

  “I am afraid I cannot—I have business to conduct with Mr. Goldworthy,” he replied. He was at the threshold of their connecting door, gazing at her in his lazy way. She knew well by now that his habitual expression was deceptive, and she could not always depend on discerning his intent from it. “However, I would be pleased if you had one of the undergrooms or stableboys accompany you on your ride.”

  “Of course,” she said. “I know Sir James is still about, and am not so foolish to risk my life should he decide to wager it for anything.” She shrugged, and could not help glancing at her husband to see what his reaction would be.

  He nodded, seeming to accept her words, and she suppressed a smile. In a way, it was good that they had not known each other long; he could not always guess from her expression or from her ways what she might do, and in this case, it was very convenient. She did not want him to guess.

  “I suppose I shall ask . . . Will Smith,” she said. Poor Will was probably the least intelligent boy in the stables; he would no doubt be easy to convince that her actions would be in Gavin’s best interests.

  “No, I will request that Nate Staples accompany you,” Gavin said firmly.

  Diana hesitated—Nate would be more difficult to convince. No matter, he was new to the stables and valued his position. She could convince him. “Oh, very well!” she made herself say in a pettish voice and turned away to hide her smile.

  She felt his arms come around her from behind. “My love, I know you want to help trap Sir James, but I cannot allow it.” He pushed her hair away from the nape of her neck and kissed her there. “I would willingly die to keep you from harm.”

  But it is not your place to do so, Diana thought. You are the Earl of Brisbane. You have a name and a heritage to maintain. But she did not say it, for she knew he would not listen. Instead, she turned in his arms, gazing steadily into his eyes. She moved her hands beneath his robe, sliding them across his chest, around to his back and below, and watched his eyes grow hot.

  “I know,” she said, and kissed him. “But I prefer you very much alive.”

  “Witch,” he murmured, his hand cradling her head as he deepened their kiss.

  A knock made them part, and Diana grinned to hear a muttered curse from her husband as he went to his own room when she called in the maid. It was his own fault; he had taught her how to tease and seduce, and it served him right that she turn the tables on him.

  She dressed and had a brief breakfast, and then went to the stables, watching the grooms and the stableboys carefully. They went about their business as usual, talking of ordinary things. But there was an undercurrent of excitement, and it confirmed her notion that this indeed was the day. Her stomach grew leaden—today was the day Gavin might die, if she did not stop him from racing. Fierce determination made her hands ball into fists. She would not let it happen. The image of her uncle’s carriage accident came to her, except Gavin’s bloodied face was there instead. Her heart twisted in pain, almost making her gasp. No, she would not let it happen. She loved him, more than her own life, she knew that now. He had said he had loved her on first sight; even though she had thought she had not in return, she knew it was because she had been blind. He was her other half; their natures were alike as the twin get of a wolf: fierce and hot and cunning. She would never tire of loving him, arguing with him, or even—she smiled abruptly—holding him down until he told her what she wanted to know.

  She gestured to Nate Staples, telling him that he was to accompany her, and he grinned as he obediently saddled her horse, then brought another for his use.

  They had ridden into the fields and over a stile, when Diana slowed her horse and turned to the stableboy. “Nate . . . the race Lord Brisbane is to have is today, is it not?”

  The youth hesitated. “I can’t say, my lady.”

  She smiled at him. “But of course it is. Have I not supervised the stables since my uncle’s time? Naturally I would know of these things.” She glanced at the sun above. “I imagine it will happen”—she chose a probable time—“around noon.” It would give plenty of time for the staff to ready the curricle for a race, and it was approximately the same time her uncle had had his.

  The stableboy’s alarmed expression confirmed it.

  “Noon, then,” she said. She gazed at Nate, and there was no need to make her expression grave, for the danger Gavin was risking almost made her choke. But she made herself continue. “Nate . . . can I trust you?”

  The youth nodded firmly. “Yes, my lady.”

  “His lordship is in very great danger,” she said, and allowed the trembling she felt to come into her voice.

  “‘E can ‘andle the coach, my lady, I’ve seen ‘im—” He stopped abruptly, realizing what he had revealed.

  She smiled kindly at him. “Don’t worry, Nate. I know all about it.” She did know now, of course. The stableboy looked relieved. “Of course I know he is a good whip, even a superior one. I am not afraid of that,” she said.

  “But . . .” she hesitated. “You will not tell anyone of this, will you?”

  The youth shook his head.

  “Good.” She gazed at him and let out a little sob—real, for the thought of Gavin coming to harm frightened her as nothing else did. “I will tell you then: there is a man who is trying to kill my husband.”

  “Cor!” Nate’s eyes widened.

  “It’s true,” she said urgently. “He will strike during the race, or possibly before it. We cannot let it happen.” She held out her hand to him, then let it drop in a helpless manner she would normally despise. “I need your help, Nate. We must save Lord Brisbane.” She looked at him earnestly. “We must keep him from driving in the race.”

  Nate looked dubious. “‘Is lordship s
aid as ‘ow you might put a stick in ‘is spokes—”

  Diana put a wounded expression on her face.

  “—Not to ‘urt ‘im, my lady!” he said, looking alarmed. “Just that you wouldn’t like Mm to drive yer curricle.”

  “It isn’t that, Nate, it isn’t.” She hesitated, thinking of how much she should reveal. “You remember what happened to McKinney, don’t you?”

  He shuddered. “Aye, my lady.”

  “The same man means to kill his lordship. Indeed, he killed my uncle, too. You must see I cannot have it happen.”

  “No, my lady.”

  “Then you must help me. Indeed, you may even help me catch the villain.”

  The stableboy stared at her indecisively for a few minutes, and Diana itched to shake him to make him do as she wished. He nodded firmly. “Aye, I’ll ‘elp you.”

  “Thank you, Nate.” She smiled, relieved, at him. “I am very grateful. I shall make sure you are well-rewarded.”

  They continued to ride their horses at a walk, and Diana told him of her plans, and was pleased to see the youth enter into them with enthusiasm. He was thin, but he was sturdy, and she was sure that between the two of them, they could keep Gavin safe.

  The earl walked to the carriage house, careful to look about him to see that Diana was not following him. He had seen her go out with the stableboy as escort, but he would not put it past her to trick the youth and escape to cause him mischief. He greeted the grooms as he passed them, then saw an unfamiliar face.

  “You—what’s your name?” he called out.

  The youth glanced at him, surprised. He looked familiar, but Gavin could not place him . . . ah, he had a resemblance to Nate Staples, except he had brown hair instead of yellow, and his eyes were red-rimmed, as if he lacked sleep.

  “Bob Staples, my lord,” he said. “I worked ‘ere summat, but me blinkers got bad when the old lord—” He stopped, his face growing worried. “Beggin’ yer pardon, yer lordship. I wisht I coulda been ‘ere to do my duty, but I did send me cousin Nate, and he’s a trusty lad, and I thought it’d do no ‘arm.”

  Gavin nodded. “You did well, and if it was some illness, I would not have wanted you to pass it along to any of my other servants.”

  The youth scratched his head, clearly puzzled. “Warn’t sick, yer lordship—got summat in me eyes when I was cleaning the harness after the race. ‘Twas like fire, like the time me mum’s pepper got in me face.”

  Gavin had begun to turn toward the carriage house again, but Bob’s words stopped him. It was a little thing . . . of course there might be some new material used to clean harnesses and such that could be caustic in some way. But he had never heard of it, and oil would not hurt anyone’s eyes.

  “What were you using to clean them?” he asked.

  The youth looked anxious. “Neatsfoot oil, yer lordship. McKinney always said to use it.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “No, yer lordship.”

  Gavin stared hard at him until the stableboy almost wilted where he stood. “Which of the parts were you cleaning?” he asked Finally.

  “I dunno—I was cleaning all of them—‘twas a long time ago.” Bob Staples paused, looking almost ill. “Did I do wrong?” he asked in a whisper.

  “No,” Gavin replied. “No, you did not.” He fished in his pocket for a shilling and tossed it to him. “Indeed, I think you may have helped me a great deal.”

  The youth caught the coin and breathed a large sigh of relief. “I’m that glad, yer lordship,” he said, and hurried away.

  Gavin strode to the carriage house, then gazed at the curricle. It was a sleek machine, shiny after its repair. He had driven this one before from time to time, for Diana had grudgingly agreed that he was competent enough to handle it. He smiled slightly. She was very possessive of it, and he could not blame her; anyone would be, who owned such a carriage.

  The curricle was faultless, and had been, even when the late Lord Brisbane had driven it. Something had been done to the harness, or some part of it, and it had affected the horses in such a way that they had gone mad with pain. But how had it been done, so that it occurred later, and not as soon as the equipment had been put on the horses?

  He sighed, and the sound echoed in the quiet around him. He supposed he would find out, soon. He had ordered the head groom to keep a good eye on Sir James, but keep his distance, and not do anything until the race was off. Whatever the substance that had been put on the harness, it had not taken effect until about thirty minutes had gone by in the race. He had calculated about where in the course it would be; he would slow the horses about that time, and as soon as there were any signs of discomfort in them, he would leap from the carriage and—he hoped—his fall would be cushioned by the haystacks he had ordered put along the way.

  Well, it was nearing time to prepare for the race. He would—

  A shove, and the floor of the carriage house came up to slam the air from his lungs. A weight sat upon his back, making it even more difficult to catch his breath again.

  “I am sorry, my love,” came Diana’s voice. “But I cannot let you drive my curricle.”

  He struggled under her, cursing, then felt cloth come over his mouth, muffling him. His head jerked back as it was tied behind his head. He twisted his body, but another weight came down upon his legs.

  “That’s right, Nate,” Diana said. “Hold him down, will you?” Gavin could feel a rope come around his ankles, tying them tightly together.

  “I don’t like it, yer ladyship,” Nate said.” ‘Tis his lordship, after all.”

  “It’s to save his life, Nate!” she replied. “He’ll be grateful to you in the end, depend upon it.”

  Curses sputtered against the cloth between Gavin’s teeth, and he twisted under them again. God help him, the woman must be a sorceress. How she had convinced the stableboy against his express wishes—He would not let her get away with this—

  “Right you are, yer ladyship,” Nate said, his voice sounding dubious nevertheless.” ‘Is ‘ands next?”

  “Very good!” Diana said approvingly. “I know he will be difficult about it, but we must be firm!”

  Gavin clenched his hands and tried to move his arms away from his sides, fighting the rope that looped around one then another wrist, but it did no good; his wife had apparently planned the whole attack very carefully. His wrists were drawn tightly behind his back, and at last the weight on him came off.

  He managed to turn on his side, and glared at Diana. Her face was flushed with the effort of tying him up, but her eyes were triumphant.

  “I am sorry, Gavin,” she said again, and her expression became regretful. “But I cannot let you risk your life. You are the Earl of Brisbane. If you die, and nothing can be proved against—against the villain, then he will inherit the title. You owe it to your heritage to live.” She bent and kissed his cheek. “And I would surely die of grief if you were no longer with me. I do not think I could bear it.”

  He could see tears form in her eyes, and he groaned. Don’t do this, Diana, dear God, don’t do this.

  She turned to Nate Staples. “Now, we must hide him. We cannot risk the chance that the villain will find him helpless here and kill him.”

  Gavin struggled and did all he could to thwart them, but a combination of dragging and rolling put him into a storage closet near the harness rack. The door closed, and he was in complete darkness.

  Almost—the closet was roughly made, and there were chinks between the wooden boards. He could see Diana and the stableboy through one large hole as she passed the rack.

  “There, we have done it,” she said. “Now, I shall take his lordship’s place in the race.”

  “But you said—” Nate protested.

  She eyed him sternly. “The race is a matter of honor, and must continue. Besides, we cannot catch the villain if it does not go on—if the horses do not react as I believe they will during the race, then we have nothing with which to accuse the villain.”
/>
  Nate shook his head. “I can’t think ’tis right, yer ladyship.”

  “It will be, Nate, you shall see.” With a confident smile, she patted his arm and walked out of the carriage house, the stableboy following reluctantly behind her.

  Gavin groaned again. Damn the woman! He had to get out of here as quickly as possible, before she ventured out on the curricle. He twisted his hands to his side and brought his knees to his chin, trying to reach a finger to his boot. He had slipped in his dagger in its sheath, his usual precaution, and he was once again glad his experiences had taught him not to be a complete gentleman.

  His fingers could not quite reach it. He tipped back his head, taking a deep breath and resting a moment. Perhaps he could get his arms around to the front of him somehow.

  He hunched his body down, twisting his wrists in their bonds until they were wet with sweat or blood . . . and the bonds loosened a little. He took another deep breath.

  And held it. A movement through the crack between the boards caught his eye, and he peered through it.

  Sir James. Gavin slowly, quietly, let out his breath and stayed very, very still.

  The man looked about him and stepped toward the harness. He patted his pocket, then reached in, drawing out what looked like a vial. Another search in his pocket brought out a yellow strip, which he briefly rubbed between his fingers—beeswax, Gavin thought. Sir James unstopped the vial, shaking something out of it onto the strip.

  He lifted his head suddenly. Gavin held his breath, careful to make no noise or sound. Sir James relaxed, and turned to the harness on the rack. His hand hovered above the leather pieces, then pounced on one of them.

  The crupper. Of course. Gavin watched as the man smoothed the beeswax on the inner, cushioned side of the crupper’s loop, then put it down again. Quickly he stoppered the vial and put it and the remaining wax into his pocket, looked about him again, then left, quickly, his steps a mere whisper.