“Damn it, Diana, stop! Are you insane, woman? I can very well see you can drive it—that’s not the problem!”
A sudden fear struck her—had something happened at home? She pulled at the reins, slowing the horses to a stop. “What is it? Is it Mama? Is she hurt?”
“Get down!” He dismounted his horse and came toward her.
Reluctantly, she handed over the reins and descended from the carriage. They had come to the road leading to the old cottage; Lord Brisbane drew his horse and the carriage off the macadamed road and to the gravel one, and tied the reins to a stilepost nearby. She watched him—a muscle worked in his jaw, as if he were grinding his teeth. He then turned to her, his fists on his hips.
“What the devil were you doing taking out this curricle without telling me?”
Anger flared. “It’s my curricle; I supposed I could go out in it now that it’s repaired.”
“Wrong.” He strode to her. “Yours or not, those are my horses, are they not?” His eyes narrowed with anger, and she could feel her own hands curling into fists.
“Yes, but you have allowed me supervision over the stables; I believed I could do with the horses as I wished.”
“Correct. Allowed. You are not to take out my horses to drive this carriage unless I give you permission to do so.”
“How dare you!” she cried. “As if you did not know that I can handle any horse in your stable! Any of them! You know that. You know it!”
With a frustrated sound, the earl swept off his hat and hit the side of the curricle with it. “It’s not your handling of the horses, you idiot, it’s the curricle!” he shouted.
“There is nothing wrong with the curricle! I had it repaired, as you well know, and had a groom investigate the matter when he was in London. There was never anything wrong with the curricle from the outset!”
“But you did not see fit to inform me of it before you went out, did you? And I was fool enough to run after you.” He stared at her angrily for a moment, then drew in a long breath and let it out again. “Very well,” he said, in a calmer voice, just tinged with bitterness. “But there is still something about the curricle that caused your uncle’s accident. You knew my concerns regarding it.”
She did, and was sorry she did not inform him—it only made sense, for she and her mother were under his protection as, at the very least, guests, and at most, relatives living under his roof. It seemed she could not do anything right lately. Anger fled, and depression took its place. Diana closed her eyes, then looked at him straight in the eyes.
“I am sorry,” she said stiffly. “However, you will not need to worry about me or my mother soon. I was going to inspect the cottage down this road.” She nodded at the gravel road ahead. “It is unused, and I am certain if it is repaired, we may rent it from you, if you will allow it.”
He stared at her in silence, then said, “You do not want to marry me.”
She smiled wryly. “Well, I think it best. I had not thought of it before, but Lady Jardien is right: I cannot continue living under the same roof as you without causing scandal, even if my mother is there. Rumors are flying in earnest now.”
“If we were to marry, the rumors would cease.”
Diana cocked her head at him. “You have not really proposed to me—how can I accept or decline?”
A twinkle entered his eyes, and he abruptly knelt before her on one knee and put his hand over his heart. “My dear Miss Carlyle. Will you do me the very great honor of accepting my offer of marriage?”
He was in earnest now—he had to be, for they had been caught in a compromising position. He had said before he had wanted to marry her, but had said he could not propose at the time. Now he was proposing, and clearly because he had been forced into it. She did not know whether to laugh or cry. “You are dirtying your trousers, sir,” she said instead, barely keeping her voice from shaking.
“For you, I will brave the displeasure of my valet,” he said solemnly. “Besides, I have more in my wardrobe.”
She gave an involuntary chuckle, then sobered. “Please do get up, Gavin.”
“You must be in earnest; you seem only to use my Christian name when you are distressed.” He rose, dusting off the leg of his trousers, then took her hand in his. “Well?” he said, gazing into her eyes.
“I . . . I cannot,” she said, and the depression threatened to produce tears, but she swallowed and lifted her chin. “I don’t see how you can marry an idiot.”
“I retract everything I have said—I was angry and afraid for your safety.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I am quite good enough to be a countess—or a wife.”
He smiled. “Then we are a good match. I have not been certain since I gained the title that I am quite good enough to be an earl.” He squeezed her hand, and it comforted her, but she could not allow herself to give in to it. “Besides,” he said, “I believe I should be the judge of whether you would be a good enough wife.”
“But you are not!” Diana gazed at him earnestly. “You did not wish to propose to me—you were forced into it. I cannot marry you when you do not wish it.”
The look in his eyes became warm, and he gave her a brief kiss. “Believe me, I am becoming very much used to the idea. It helps, you know, to have fallen in love with you on first sight.”
“But . . . but how do I know you have not attended to me because you want my dowry to run the estate?” It was something she had wondered about in the back of her mind, and she had to say it.
A flash of anger entered his eyes, but then he nodded. “A legitimate concern. I don’t know why I did not think that might be your objection to my attentions.” He smiled slightly. “I don’t need your dowry, and in fact this estate produces less than what I already own. You may ask Mr. Goldworthy how much I am worth, if you will not take my word.”
“But I am afraid!” she blurted. She did not mean to say it, but she realized it was the truth. He could not wish to marry her. She was not like other women, surely he could see that, especially after last night?
“Now that is a problem,” he said. He turned and looked down the road toward the cottage, his face thoughtful. “Perhaps it would be best if you did live in the cottage for a while. I had not thought of the possible consequences of your continuing to live at Brisbane House, until after Lady Jardien’s musicale.” He gazed at her again. “Perhaps then you would be less afraid.”
Diana let out a sigh of relief. “Yes, I think I might.”
“It would not hurt to look at the cottage. I understand it is in good repair.” He held out his hand. “Come, shall we go?”
She nodded, and turned to the curricle.
“No, not the curricle,” he said. “I think it best if you rode my horse.”
“But—”
“No,” he said firmly. “I think you have not been out as long as your uncle had on the curricle before his horses went wild?”
“I have not; it has only been about twenty minutes. The accident occurred after thirty.”
“Then I suggest you do as I say. I am not unreasonable,” he said. “If the horses are calm past thirty minutes, then you may continue to drive the curricle. I shall walk beside you and lead the carriage horses.”
“But you could be trampled if they become wild!”
He gave her carriage dress a significant look. “True. However, I believe I can move faster than you can. I do not believe your dress was made for running.”
It was true, and his way was more practical; she could not argue with it. She let him help her onto his horse, and rode beside him as he led the carriage horses. But her stomach roiled at the thought of the danger to him, and she flinched at every snort and toss of the head that came from the horses he led.
Ten minutes passed, then twenty—their discourse was desultory, for Diana could not keep her mind on the subject of conversation. Lord Brisbane seemed at ease; he talked on this matter and that, and did not mind when she failed to reply. She began to smile
; indeed, there were times when she did not reply, and he replied for her.
She relaxed a little as the time passed; the horses acted no differently than they normally would when drawing a carriage. But she was glad when they came near the cottage, nevertheless, and it was with a sigh of relief that she dismounted Lord Brisbane’s horse at last.
The cottage was old, but the last tenants had clearly maintained it very well. They tethered the horses near the entrance, and as Diana and Lord Brisbane walked around the house, they could see nothing that needed repairs. There was even a small stable a little distance away.
“I wonder if we can go in?” Diana wondered. “Is it locked?”
Lord Brisbane felt in his pockets for a moment, then smiled. “It doesn’t matter if it is; I believe I have the master key. Come, let us put the horses in the stable—if they are in luck, there will be some hay for them—and we can go in to see if the cottage will suit you.”
They went to the stable; there was hay, a little dusty, but the horses nosed at it and began to munch on the clean hay below the surface. Diana sighed and felt a little easier. She was glad Lord Brisbane was not angry that she wished to live in the cottage with her mother. Indeed, she believed her mother would take more persuading than the earl. She gazed at him as they walked back to the cottage, and felt he was a good friend at the very least, and very tolerant of her fits and starts. Even when she did not like what he had to say, it still made sense to her, and he never assumed she could not understand his notions, nor was dismissive, but took the time to explain.
“Thank you,” she said.
He looked a question at her.
“For understanding. For not being angry at me for—for acting as I did at the musicale. I know you must have been humiliated. I am sorry for that.”
He smiled. “Well, at least you did not refuse outright. And I have been in worse situations.”
“Such as?”
He laughed. “No, I will not air my embarrassing moments for you to enjoy. Not unless you tell me yours.”
“Oh, I would not know which one to pick. I have a great many.” She shot him a mischievous look. “You must tell me first, and then I will. I know that if I tell first, you will never get around to telling yours, for you have a very irritating way of going around the subject you don’t wish to discuss until I forget about it completely.”
“Mine are vulgar; to relate them would damage my consequence as earl beyond repair,” he said solemnly, but his lips twitched upward.
“I promise you, I shall not tell a soul,” Diana said.
“That is what all gossips say,” he replied.
“I am not a gossip—” She gave him a sharp look. “And you are being provocative so that I will be put off the subject. Well, I will not, this time, so you may proceed to tell me.”
Lord Brisbane sighed. “You know me so well. Are you sure you should not marry me immediately? I am convinced you would be very good for me.”
She gave him a long look, and crossed her arms in front of her.
“Very well. Let me see . . .” He looked thoughtful for a minute, then nodded. “Ah, yes. When I was a youth, working on Mr. Goldworthy’s ship, I was very much a lubber—that is, an awkward creature, hardly able to walk a ship’s deck in a calm, much less haul rope. But like most halflings, I wished to prove myself, and would admit to no weakness.”
Diana listened, all attention. At last she would learn something of him! They came around to the front of the house, and Lord Brisbane pushed the door latch. It opened easily, and he frowned.
“Odd. I hope the cottage was not furnished. It will be a bother if the contents of this house have been stolen.”
“It was furnished—and look, it seems nothing has been disturbed.” Diana gestured at the Holland-covered furniture. “It is a good thing we came here; we should look throughout to see if anything has been taken,” Diana said. She glanced at him. “Meanwhile, you may go on with your story.”
He smiled ruefully, then continued: “We’d just left the last kipping-ken—”
“What is that?” she asked. “A kipping-ken?”
“A lodging house,” he replied. “A vulgar term, but I did warn you that all my embarrassing experiences were vulgar.”
She chuckled. “Yes, but I shall not be shocked.” They had passed through the small parlor, and Diana looked up the stairs nearby. “Shall we inspect the upstairs?” At his nod, she proceeded upward. “You must remember I have worked about the stables for a long time, and will not be shocked whatever you might say.”
“We shall see!” he said, following after her.
The bedrooms were smaller than she was used to, but were very well lighted and airy, with large windows and the wallpaper was prettily patterned against a white background. She would not feel too confined here, Diana believed. She nodded her satisfaction. “I believe we should inspect the kitchens next,” she said. They descended the stairs again. “You may proceed with your story, sir.”
He hesitated, but she gave him a stern look at the foot of the stairs, and he continued. “I had felt queasy upon our departure from the inn, but was determined to be a man and ignore it. However, with my first step upon the gangplank of the ship, I felt a peculiar turning of my stomach. Before I could stop myself, I had given forth the contents of—” They had just come upon the entrance to the kitchen, and suspecting what might be next in his tale, Diana turned upon him.
“Lord Brisbane!” She eyed him in displeasure.
He looked not quite apologetic. “Are you shocked? I told you it would be vulgar.”
“That is beyond vulgar, it is disgusting!” She stepped into the kitchen. An obnoxious odor came from the room—she wondered if the last tenants had left in a hurry and had left some meat to spoil. It would take a while to clean it and dispel the odor, but it could be done.
“But you said you would not be shocked. I wanted to see if it was true.”
She looked at him and wrinkled her nose. “I am not shocked, I am—”
The expression on Lord Brisbane’s face suddenly changed; he gazed past Diana, his lips pressed together. His body was rigid; it was as if he had turned to stone. “Don’t turn around,” he said harshly.
But it was too late. She had turned and stared, and what was before her burned in her mind for that brief moment before Lord Brisbane seized her and pulled her hard against him. She pressed her fist tightly to her mouth, and clutched his coat with the other, turning her face to his chest.
“We must leave,” he said. “Come—I believe Lord Jardien is the local magistrate and will be able to manage this.”
She nodded, and took a breath to calm herself, and nearly choked, for the stench reminded her of what she had just seen. Lord Brisbane pulled her away, hurrying her through the rooms and the cottage door to the fresh air outside.
Outside. Outside at last, Diana thought, thankful down to her bones for the unconfining air. She stumbled, fell to her knees, breathing in gulps, and a misty blackness seemed to creep in front of her. Abruptly she was pulled to her feet, then her back was thrust forcefully forward.
“Put your head between your knees,” Lord Brisbane commanded. She complied, and the black mist receded. He continued to hold her by her waist, and finally her knees felt able to keep her steady.
“Let me up,” she said. “I will not faint, I promise you.” Slowly, he released her and almost stepped away, but she clutched his arm. “No,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me.”
“I am here,” he said gently, taking her in his arms. “You are safe.”
She took in another breath, trying to calm herself, but a hysterical laugh broke out of her. “Of course, such—such things cannot hurt me. He—it is—Oh, dear God. Gavin, there is a dead man in that—that place!” She moaned, and her stomach rolled.
He moved a little, one arm still around her, and then pushed her forward, toward the stables. “Yes, so I noticed,” he said dryly. “Come, we must hurry—Damn!” He turned her and he
ld her until she finished retching into the grass.
“I am sorry,” she said miserably. “At least I did not spill on your boots.”
“Thank you,” he replied, and a small twinkle briefly entered his eyes. “I am not sure if I would have had such presence of mind myself.” He dabbed her mouth with his handkerchief, then pressed it into her hand. “Come, we must return home.”
He strode to the stables, then led out the horses and the curricle. “I believe we can assume nothing will happen with the carriage horses. If they have not gone wild after all this time, then whatever made the ones your uncle had do so is not present here.” He climbed into the curricle and held out his hand to her. “I will drive, and have someone fetch my horse later.”
She clasped his hand and climbed up, not protesting. She only wanted to be away, as quickly as possible. “I do not think you will get anyone to come here to retrieve your horse, if they find out about the—it.” She could not say the words.
Lord Brisbane grimaced. “Then I shall come back here myself. No doubt I will have to anyway.” He snapped the whip above the horses’ heads, and then went forward.
He drove them gradually faster, eventually into a canter, and the breeze blew over Diana’s face. She closed her eyes, feeling the flow of air across her face, and it revived her. An image of the cottage came before her then, pretty, all light and airy—and then the abomination in the kitchen. She groaned.
“Gavin—I cannot live there. I cannot live in that cottage. Not with that—thing.”
“I should hope not! You may stay with me as long as you wish.” He glanced at her, and she almost wept at the kindness in his eyes.
She shook her head, then briefly pressed her palms against her forehead. “I do not know what to do! I thought I would be free at the cottage, away from people looking at me. But I cannot now. I would much rather marry you than live there,” she said passionately.
“I am delighted to know that you would prefer to marry me than to live with a corpse.” He nodded solemnly. “I have risen in your affection, I see.”
A sudden bubble of laughter escaped her. “Oh, how can you joke at a time like this?”
Miss Carlyle's Curricle: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) Page 14