She chuckled. “You know, I also suspect you are not as dedicated to your clothes as you would make yourself out to be. Indeed, there are at least two instances in which you allowed them to be less than perfect.”
“My dear, you pain me,” he said, putting his hand over his heart. “How could I let anything of Weston’s tailoring be treated with less than the best of care?”
“But you did.” They turned a right corner, then were faced with two choices of paths. “Since this is your first time in the maze, you may choose the direction in which we will go.”
“Ah, so I will be at fault when we are lost, is that it?”
She smiled widely. “Of course. A just payment for having me call for help to preserve your dignity.”
He laughed, then nodded to the right path. “Let us go through that one.” They stepped through the arched threshold of leaves, and he glanced at her. “Well, then, tell me, when have I been any less than impeccably dressed?”
“When we first met, you were riding in the rain. You bowed, if you remember, and your hat dripped water in your boot.”
“Ah, well, I was overcome by the sight of you. I knew not what I was doing.”
“I am surprised you did not detest me after you found your boot ruined.”
He smiled warmly at her. “It was worth it. I would ruin half a million pairs of boots for you.”
His words disconcerted her, but she would not give in to any sort of silly feelings. “Only half a million?” she teased.
“I am not that wealthy,” he said. “Besides, I would want to spend the rest of my fortune on you, of course.”
“Beware of such offers, my lord!” she said. “I might ask for terrible extravagances, and then you would be in the basket.”
They came to another choice of pathways, and after a slight hesitation, the earl chose the left one. “Such as?”
Diana knew he had inherited almost no money when he became earl, not enough to run the estate and certainly not enough for luxuries. It was only a little more than what she had been bequeathed if she did not marry. Yet, he displayed no worry over it—did he think she would marry him eventually? Certainly if they did, their combined inheritance would be a very great one—but she pushed that thought aside. She cast about in her mind for an outrageous extravagance.
“I have it: a very large and grand mansion.”
“Well, you would have one immediately in Brisbane House if I proposed to you and you accepted.” His smile grew warmer.
Again she felt disconcerted, but remembered the “ifs” in his reply, and staved off the oddly depressed feeling that had seeped into her. She made herself smile in return. “I am afraid that is not enough. We must have another, oh, in Scotland. A castle, in fact.”
He considered this. “I am persuaded you would not like it. Castles are very drafty, and it is very cold in Scotland.” Diana gazed at him. “You have been in Scotland, then?” “Yes.”
She waited for a moment, but he said nothing more, and impatience flashed through her. “Oh, you are impossible!”
He raised his brows. “How so?”
“For a man who seems to be very good at conversation and at drawing out other people, you are not at all forthcoming about yourself.” They came upon another path and Lord Brisbane led her directly down it.
“My life is not at all that interesting, believe me,” he said, but his voice became distant, and his face somber.
“Perhaps that is for me to judge,” she replied. “I, for one, think that anyone who has traveled much must have very interesting tales to tell.”
Lord Brisbane smiled slightly. “My tales are mostly full of seasickness and scratching out an existence where I could, believe me. Quite tedious.” He made another turn, and the maze suddenly opened up to a clearing.
“Ohhh,” she breathed, and looked about her with delight.
The middle of the maze contained a small garden, with a marble pond. In the midst of it was a statue of a flying horse, a Pegasus, also made of marble; its wings were spread wide, and its hooves pawed the air. The mouth was open, and sprayed forth water that sprinkled around it in a circle. The water fell with a light, laughing, burbling noise as it hit the pond’s surface. It was warmer within the maze than outside, so the rosebushes at each corner of the garden had flowers fully open. Their scent colored the air around them, and the red and pink of the buds against the deep green of the shrubbery were in vivid contrast to each other. Primroses lined the walks, between which were patches of soft green grass, and brown-eyed pansies nodded their heads at the edge of the pond.
“Oh, my!” she said. “Oh, my! I cannot believe it—I am here! After so many years. And it is so beautiful—much more than I had ever dreamed. Why did not my uncle tell me how to come here?”
A marble bench sat near the water, and the earl led her to it. She did not sit immediately, however; sheer delight at being, finally, in the middle of the maze had seized her, and it rose in a bubble of laughter in her chest. She closed her eyes and swung herself around, arms outstretched. The laugh burst out at last, and then she sat down next to Lord Brisbane.
“A prize is that much more beautiful when it is long in achieving,” Lord Brisbane said.
She turned to look at him, and his expression caught her breath: he gazed at her as if she were the prize of which he spoke. “Why do you say that?” she asked.
“Because it is true,” he said simply.
Diana shook her head slowly. “No . . . I mean, why do you say that and look at me . . . like that.” She did not know how to put it into words—the expression in his eyes made her heart beat faster and made her tremble, as if she felt a little afraid. He raised his brows. “Like what?”
“Like—oh, I don’t know!” She turned on the bench and gazed at the pond, and shuffled her feet restlessly on the gravel beneath her. Bending, she picked up a pebble and tossed it into the pond. It made no more noise or disturbance than the splashes of water already falling into it. “As if . . . as if I were not too tall or too plump or my skin too brown. As if my hair were not yellow, or my eyes too pale a blue. As if I did not stride like a man, or ride too fast or too wildly.”
He took her hand gently, looked tenderly into her eyes and bent so close to her she trembled again—was he going to kiss her? But then Diana felt something heavy drop into her hand.
“Try this,” he said softly, his voice floating to her ear in the most romantic tones she had ever heard. “A large rock will make a much more satisfying splash than a pebble.”
She stared at him, and the next breath she took spurted out in a laugh. The next one she tried to suppress with her hand, but it burst through her fingers, and the next she did not even try to repress. “Oh! Oh, y-you—!” She gasped and laughed again, helplessly. “You are—are t-terrible!”
His face took on a morose expression. “I was only trying to be of help.”
Diana doubled over, pressing her hands to her mouth, but it only made her laughter turn to shrieks. “Oh, ohhh! How could you—oh, I swear I almost thought you were—and then the rock—”
“Well, I was, but I thought throwing the rock might be more satisfying to you,” he said, grinning.
She stared at him, wide-eyed, her lips still trembling with laughter. “Oh, no—that is, it would be satisfying, but it is not to say—I mean—” She stopped, and she could feel her face becoming more warm than it was already from laughing.
He shook his head. “You are a strange young lady, to be sure! I have never met a woman who rated her looks so low.”
“I have it on good authority that I am as fashionable as a milkmaid.” She shrugged. “Coarse and awkward. I heard it many times in London.”
“From whom?”
“My Aunt Matchett, and then it was picked up by those around her.” The words still stung, even as she said them. She looked away from him. “No one would dance with me at the end of my Season, for fear that I would step on their toes, and being as big as I am, no doubt I wou
ld have injured them quite severely.”
Her arm was suddenly seized, and she stared at Lord Brisbane’s abruptly stormy face. “Stand up.”
“What—?”
“I said, stand up.”
She stood, and stared at his neckcloth, suddenly not able to meet his eyes. “Now, look at me.”
She did not, not right away, and his hand came under her chin, forcing it up. Her eyes met his at last, reluctantly, and he gazed at her with a blazing intensity—she did not know if it was anger, or something else.
“You have to look up at me, do you not?”
She nodded, slowly.
“Therefore you are not tall, not to me.”
“But—”
He put his hand over her mouth. “Hush! Listen, for once.” His hand moved gently away from her lips and caressed her cheek. “Your skin is not brown, but golden. It shines as if it were gilded. Your hair—” He plucked at the pins that held it in place, and it fell to her waist as he threaded his fingers through it. “Your hair is not yellow, but the color of the sun, almost blinding in its brilliance. Your eyes are not pale blue, but the color of the summer sky.”
Her breath came quickly as she stared at him. “Please—” she whispered, and a light trembling shook her. “I’m not—”
“No, say nothing.” Lord Brisbane’s voice was softer now, but just as commanding. “Listen.” His hand moved to cup her chin, gently this time. “Your lips are the color of new roses, and sweeter than Spanish sherry.” He bent and touched them with his own, briefly, and she could not help making a little sound, a sigh that seemed to come up from deep inside. “Big?” His hands slid to her waist, and he gave a laugh, sounding breathless. “My hands can almost go around your waist.”
She could not stop looking into his eyes; they froze her to the spot—no, not frozen, for she felt too warm now, as if she had been running. “Only the front of my waist. And your—your hands are very large.” Her voice came out, also breathless, a whisper.
He laughed again, a husky sound. “How convenient, since you insist on emphasizing how big you are. Just think how well they can hold you.”
It was all she could think of, the way his hands caressed her waist and drew her close, the way his fingers massaged the small of her back. Or no, there were his lips as well, the way they hovered over hers, not quite touching her mouth as he gazed into her eyes. She could feel his breath flow over her hips, a prelude to his touch. A laughing wild look flashed in his eyes, and his hand pushed up her chin so that her lips reached his at last.
She moaned—she could not help it. It came up from the pit of her belly, from the depths of her heart. She grasped his shoulders, and tiptoed so that she could press her mouth against his. His hands—his hands moved from her waist to her hips, pressing her close to him, and a heat rose from there, tingling outward to her skin.
He moved his mouth a little from hers. “Open them, Diana,” he whispered. He kissed her again, licking slightly the corners of her mouth. Tentatively, she parted her lips, and his were upon them again, kissing her deeply, pulling her closer than ever.
A movement, a tug, and she found herself sitting on his lap upon the bench, gasping, for his lips had left hers and had kissed a trail from her chin to her shoulder. She closed her eyes, feeling drugged and dizzy, and tightened her grasp on his shoulders.
“You make me feel wild, Diana,” he said, his words hot upon the soft skin of her throat. “God help me, I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you.”
She could say nothing, caught up in the sound of his voice, the feel of his breath upon her skin, the touch of his fingers moving slowly upward from her waist to the side of her breast. Her own breath caught, then started again, fitfully, and she tried to swallow down the trembling that coursed through her. “Please—” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Please . . .” She did not know what she asked; it was the only word she could seem to say.
He stilled, his forehead resting in the crook of her neck, then slowly he raised his head to look at her. “I should ask you to marry me.”
Ask me, cried a voice inside her. Ask me. The sensual fog slowly lifted from her mind, and she answered herself, No, I hardly know him.
He sighed, shaking his head. He rose, half lifting her as he did, and then letting her slide down until her feet reached the ground.
“Why?” she blurted.
He grinned suddenly, and the sight of it twisted her heart. “I don’t think you would accept. And . . .” His grin turned wry. “I don’t think I deserve you.”
Diana moved a little away from him, anger and frustration lancing quickly through her. “Should I not be the one to determine that?” she said. “I have already determined we could be friends—” He shot her a surprised look. “Yes, friends. You have virtues I look for in a friend: certainly one of them is kindness. I have seen how you work to make my mother laugh—and I am grateful, for her spirits have lightened, and she has begun to eat more than she has been. I have been worried about her, you see, and she won’t listen to me when I try to make her eat more.” She touched his sleeve, lightly. “I am grateful.”
“I—you are welcome,” he said, suddenly seeming at a loss for words.
“Indeed, I agreed to this walk to learn more about you—” She broke off, a blush heating her face, thinking of what they had just been doing. “Not—not that!”
Lord Brisbane smiled slightly. “No? I thought you were curious.”
“I—I was,” she said honestly. “But I wished to know you better. I believe I know what all the kissing was about.”
His smile turned quizzical. “Do you?”
Diana nodded. “I have heard it from the stablehands when they thought I was not about and listening. It hasn’t anything to do with love, but with pleasure, and I know enough that it would not do to go very far into it, or else it will be like what the stallions do to the mares, and I shall begin to breed.” Diana made herself look at him, even though her face still felt warm. “I may be as wild as my uncle said I was, but I know enough not to cause such a scandal.” It was difficult to think of how humans might go about it, but the idea had occurred to her that it might be somewhat similar. She knew it was not something she should even be mentioning to him, but however much she did not care for society’s conventions, she was not willing to bear a child out of wedlock. She did not know, she realized, what he truly wanted of her, whether he wished to dally with her or marry her in earnest. He had said, over and over again, that he wished to marry her, but refused to propose. What was she to make of that?
She watched him warily—was he angry at her?—as his face grew suddenly red, and his lips pressed tightly together.
And then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. She frowned, wondering what he thought was so funny.
“Ah, Diana—” He wiped the tears from his eyes, then looked at her, and burst out laughing again. “Oh, God, only you, only you. If the thought of breeding stallions and mares isn’t enough to put off kisses, I don’t know what is.” He held out his hand. “Come, my dear, let’s be friends.” He glanced at the dimming sky. “If you are so concerned about scandal, then we should not stay here very long. And I promise you, I will keep scandal away from you as best I can.” She took his hand, he brought hers to his lips, and they walked out of the middle of the maze.
It only took a few minutes before Diana realized that Lord Brisbane had not faltered once in turning this way and that in the maze, and they were out before she had a chance to remember she was to call out to the servants for help. She gazed at him accusingly.
“You knew the key to the maze all along!” She pulled her hand from his arm. Oh, how irritating he was! He could have told her at the very beginning!
He gave her an apologetic look. “Well, yes. It is one of the things that goes along with being the Earl of Brisbane. I found it immediately among the estate papers.”
“Oh! See if I ever go into the maze with you again!” She stamped her foo
t on the grass, and moved away from him.
“Wait, Diana—”
She stopped, but did not turn around. Footsteps sounded behind her and then he came around and gazed at her solemnly—almost. There was a twinkle in his eyes, and she tried very hard not to respond to it. “Diana, I took you there because I thought you would like it.”
There was a wistful note in his voice, and she could not help relenting. “Oh . . . very well. I did like it,” she admitted.
“I am glad,” he said simply, but his gaze fell on her lips.
“That does not mean I shall allow you to kiss me if we do go again into the middle of the maze,” she said.
“I understand,” he replied. “I will only kiss you if you allow it.”
Diana stared at him, frustrated. How was she to answer that? She hadn’t thought she would allow such things each time, but they had happened nevertheless. “I do not want any scandal about the two of us,” she said firmly.
“I promise you, our kisses will not cause any scandal,” he said promptly.
She let out a little growl—it seemed no matter what she said, it came around to kissing again.
“You are impossible!” she said, and gave him a burning look. His only response was a chuckle, and Diana felt she could do nothing but cross her arms before her and keep herself from looking back at him all the way to the house.
But when she finally stepped into her room, she realized she had not got him to tell her anything about himself at all. How odious he was! Diana thought, and tried not to think of how she had thought quite otherwise when they were in the maze.
Chapter 8
A large coach-and-four rumbled up to the front of Brisbane House two days before Lady Jardien’s musicale. It was a very fine one, a bit overwrought with decoration, Diana thought as she looked out of her chamber window, but very well-made nevertheless. It made her think of what Lord Brisbane had said of the workmanship of coaches and she knew at once the man who stepped down from the coach must be Mr. Edwin Goldworthy.
Miss Carlyle's Curricle: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) Page 10