eyes slowly travelled down her body, lingered on her curves. Diana reminded herself that this was a simple round gown, nothing too flattering. Suitable for visiting the Bolts and others in the neighbourhood, but it would appear dowdy and misshapen in Newcastle, let alone under the bright lights of London. Demure. Modest. Unassuming. His fingers trapped hers, curling around them and holding them fast. He brought them to his lips as his eyes watched her with a steady gaze. ‘You will take driving lessons. I insist. Public safety demands it.’
‘The public make no such demand.’ Diana withdrew her hand and ignored the faint tremor that ran up it. ‘I doubt our paths will cross again.’
Brett Farnham stared at the woman in front of him. This interview was not going the way he had planned when he’d glimpsed her ankle and the slight curve of her calf as she’d drawn her hideous dress up to avoid the mud. ‘And if I say that the stories about me are exaggerated?’
‘My answer would remain the same. In any case, London is your natural habitat. Your stay here will be a short one.’ The Beauty’s bee-stung lips were turned down. They were the most exquisite colour of rose pink and Brett wondered what it might be like to taste them again. But he decided against the notion. He would be a fool to try such a thing without knowing her antecedents. She claimed an acquaintance. Brett took pride in being discerning. He had never toyed with a woman whose thoughts might legitimately lean towards marriage; women who understood the nature of the game were infinitely preferable.
‘It may be longer than you expect,’ he said, keeping his eyes away from the swell of her bosom. Until he knew the exact nature of her status, he refused to risk any consequence. Silently, he prayed that she might be a legitimate pursuit, rather than one who was off limits. ‘I recently won a highly desirable piece of Northumbrian property.’
‘Did you, indeed?’ Her blue-green eyes became cold. Her eyebrow arched. ‘It appears to me that you play for very high stakes. Far too high.’
‘Cuthbert Biddlestone had had rather too much port and challenged me to a race. I am hardly one to back down. I held his vowels, you see, and it was double or nothing. Now I hold the title to Ladywell Park.’
‘You raced a noted drunkard? That must have been challenging.’
Brett brushed a speck of dust from his travelling coat. ‘He was the one who insisted. He was the one who became a vice-admiral in a narrow ship. I did warn him what would happen. He chose not to believe me. I do warn people of the consequences.’
‘And do you intend to keep this estate or will you wager it again on another race?’
‘I never drink too much port. What I have, I hold…Miss…’ Brett held out his hand and prepared to recapture her fingers.
She smiled and managed to sidestep him. ‘You will not achieve my name by such stratagems.’
‘You claimed acquaintance earlier.’
‘You denied all knowledge.’
‘Perhaps I spoke too hastily.’ Brett dropped his voice to a husky rasp. ‘Enlighten me, O Beauty of the wayside, so that I may worship you properly.’
‘I shall wait until we are properly re-introduced—’ she tilted her chin and her eyes became glacial ‘—when the proper order has been restored, if indeed you have won the Park.’
Brett smiled inwardly. One of the local gentry. Unmarried as she did not bother to correct him. He had anticipated, given the ugliness of the dress, that she was a farmer’s daughter, rather than a social equal. But now that he listened to her tones, he conceded that it was a probability. Annoying, but true. There again, she had mentioned a former fiancé—perhaps there was a stout husband in the background? Or, better yet, she could be widowed. Brett smiled. Possibilities remained. He would play the odds. Five years was a long time. A woman who showed a zest for life like this one would not have remained unmarried.
‘I believe your book has tumbled into the mud.’ Brett reached down and picked the mud-splattered volume up.
The lady held out a hand. ‘My book, if you please.’
‘I would not want you to be distracted.’ Brett pocketed the volume. ‘I will arrange for it to be delivered if you will divulge your name.’
‘For propriety’s sake, stop this funning and give me my book back…’ Her lips became a thin white line, but her cheeks coloured.
‘I much prefer impropriety.’ He gave a half-smile at her outraged expression.
‘My book, Lord Coltonby, if you please. I have tarried here long enough.’
Brett ignored her outstretched palm, and placed the volume in his pocket. ‘I have no intention of keeping it any longer than strictly necessary, but for now I feel it would be a distraction.’ Brett made a bow as she opened and closed her mouth several times. ‘Your servant, ma’am. I look forward with great anticipation to our next encounter.’
Her response was to twitch the carriage ribbons. Brett stood and watched it. She would find an excuse to come to him. It was only a matter of time.
Chapter Two
‘Rude. Arrogant. Impossible.’ Diana threw her gloves down on her dressing table and finally gave vent to her frustration. Passion and emotion were permissible in private.
Lord Coltonby actually thought that she would seek him out! And the worst thing was that he possessed the same sort of lethal charm that Algernon had oozed from his every pore. But she had learnt her lesson about how quickly such things vanished. Her rules had kept her safe since then. Diana concentrated on taking deep calming breaths.
‘Who?’ Rose, her maid asked, looking up from her pile of mending. Rose coming into her life was the only good thing that had happened in London. Sometimes, Diana felt that the world would have gone entirely black if not for Rose’s practical approach to life and her sense of humour. ‘What edict has the master issued now? You were displeased with him at breakfast. I could tell by the set of your mouth when he went on about you going to visit Lady Bolt. Why he should be interested in the Honourable Miranda, I have no idea. The woman is a menace. She is the sort who considers every cold a lung fever and faints at the merest hint of anything untoward.’
‘It is not the Honourable Miranda’s charms that interest my brother, but the possibilities of using Sir Norman’s landing on the Tyne if he makes an offer. Business, always business with Simon.’
‘Your brother should make other things his business. That son of his needs a mother. You do your best, Miss Diana, but you ought to have a life while you are young enough to enjoy it.’
Diana gave a short laugh as she gazed with fondness at her maid who sat sewing by the window. ‘I have discovered someone worse than my brother—an unadulterated rake who goes by the name of Brett Farnham, the sixth earl of Coltonby. He thinks all he has to do is click his fingers and women will fall at his feet.’
‘And do they?’ Rose laid her mending on her lap. Her placid face crinkled up. ‘I have often longed to meet one and to see if such a thing is really possible. What was he like, your mysterious rake?’
‘He is no rake of mine. He will have forgotten my existence by the time my gig turned the corner, and certainly once he encounters the next skirt.’
‘You
