A Question of Impropriety. Michelle Styles

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A Question of Impropriety - Michelle Styles Mills & Boon Historical

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papers.’

      Diana gave a small shrug as she stared into the large mirror that hung over the mantelpiece. Her features were ordinary: dark hair, reasonable eyes and an overgenerous mouth. They had not been what had caught the eye of Algernon Finch. He had been attracted to the size and newness of her fortune. And his determined seduction and easy manner had dazzled her. She had never thought to question his stories until it was too late, far too late. But she had learnt her lesson. ‘Brett Farnham is a rake, Rose. His exploits with gaming, carriage driving and women were the talk of London five years ago. But simply because other women fall at his feet, there is no need to think that I should.’

      Rose made a noise at the back of her throat. ‘How has he behaved? Tried to flirt with you a bit? You never used to mind such things, Miss Diana…’

      ‘That was a long time ago, Rose.’ Diana tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear as she tried not to think about the girl she had once been. ‘I am no longer a green girl, ready to believe the lies that drop from a man’s lips, particularly not when he appears sophisticated and charming. And I have better uses for my fortune than buying a bankrupted title.’

      ‘Is Lord Coltonby bankrupt?’ Rose’s eyes widened. ‘You know a great deal about a man in whom you profess no interest, Miss Diana.’

      ‘The state of Lord Coltonby’s finances fails to intrigue me. I simply know what sort of man chased after me in London. Bankrupt. Let in the pockets. They saw only my fortune and not my face or personality.’

      Rose shook her head so that her ribbons bobbed. ‘You should judge each man on his own merit. And stop seeing yourself as a plain old maid, an ape-leader who is on the shelf. Abandon your caps and embrace life. There, I have said my piece, Miss Diana, and it has been a long time coming.’

      ‘Please, Rose. You have it all wrong.’ Diana briefly related what passed between her and Lord Coltonby. Her voice faltered briefly when she neared the kiss, but she pressed on, avoiding any mention of it. If she did not think about it, it would be as if it had never happened. ‘I shall enjoy seeing his face when he realises who I am.’

      ‘Why would you want to do that?’ Rose finished darning a stocking. ‘I thought you were not interested in the man’s opinion—good or otherwise.’

      ‘I can hardly allow Lord Coltonby’s arrogance in the matter to continue.’ Diana pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to think straight as Rose’s lips turned up into a smug smile. ‘I do have my pride, Rose. Simon is a man of consequence in this county.’

      ‘It is a start.’ Rose shifted the mending off her lap and smoothed out the wrinkles in her apron. ‘You should borrow one of those lady magazines and see the latest fashions. One of Mrs Sarsfield’s daughters-in-law is sure to be willing to lend her copy of this season’s La Belle Assemblée. I could easily alter one of your London dresses.’

      Diana shook her head. She had lost count of the number of rules she had broken today. Wearing clothes that made her fade into the background was vital, a constant reminder of what happened when one let one’s guard down. ‘My clothes suit the life I have chosen.’

      ‘It is such a pity. All those lovely silks going to waste.’

      ‘They stay where I put them—in the attic.’

      ‘You have mourned your fiancé for too long, Miss Diana. No one expects it. Not after the manner in which he died.’

      Diana froze. How could she explain to anyone that she went down on her knees every night and thanked God for her lucky escape? That she had no intention of being caught out again. Ever. There were things about the past that even Rose did not know. Diana forced her fingers to pick up a pile of letters from the dressing room table. ‘The post has arrived. You should have said.’

      Rose tightened her lips and showed that she remained unmoved by Diana’s sudden enthusiasm for her letters. ‘Doctor Allen has written. Already.’

      ‘What has Robert done now? It is barely a week into term.’ Diana tore the seal on the schoolmaster’s letter. ‘He promised me when we said goodbye that there would be no repeat of last year. He would attend to his studies. Simon will be so cross.’

      ‘It would be better if—’

      Rose’s words were drowned out by a door being flung open. The noise resounded throughout the substantive house. Diana gave Rose a startled look and hurried out of the room.

      ‘He’s gone and done it! Lost everything! On a horse race!’

      ‘Who has gone and done what, Simon?’ Diana regarded her brother’s thunderous face as he strode about the entrance hall, his black coat flapping and his neckcloth wildly askew. ‘You will make yourself ill, if you continue in this manner. Be calm and collected.’

      Simon gave her a disgusted look.

      ‘Cuthbert Biddlestone has wagered his fortune on a carriage race. And lost.’ He handed the cane and top hat to Jenkins, the butler. ‘He lost his entire Northumberland estate, everything that was not in the entail.’ Simon Clare shook his head as his dark green eyes flashed emerald fire. ‘He wagered the whole thing on his ability to handle the ribbons against one of the best horsemen in the country! His father would be turning in his grave if he knew.’

      ‘I suspect he did know. It is why he put off Sir Cuthbert’s majority until he was thirty.’ Diana forced her lips to turn up, but saw no answering smile in her brother’s face. If anything, his face became darker. ‘You always predicted such a thing would happen. What was it that you called Sir Cuthbert—a witless fop?’

      ‘He was a fool. He claimed in his letter that it was my fault as he wanted the money to invest in the travelling engine.’

      ‘That is complete nonsense!’

      ‘But it is exactly like Biddlestone. And he did not listen to what I said. I only wanted a bit of his money…for my new engine. Then with the proceeds from the investment, he would have been able to build that new Italianate manor he was always on about. I was even prepared to sell him that parcel of land overlooking the Tyne—you know, the one where the old wooden wagon-way used to run—at a knockdown price.’ Simon ran a finger about his collar.

      ‘But what does this have to do with the new owner?’

      ‘He wants to buy the land. Says Biddlestone and I had an agreement. Goodness knows what arrangement he will then strike with Sir Norman Bolt. Bolt’s been after that land for years. About the only spark of intelligence Biddlestone showed was his loathing of Sir Norman.’ Simon’s lower lip stuck out. ‘Is it any wonder that I am furious? Get me the latest copy of Debrett’s, Jenkins, I want to know the measure of this Earl of Coltonby.’

      Diana reached down and gave Titch a pat on the head. Lord Coltonby had told the truth—he was their nearest neighbour. The terrier looked up with big eyes. The simple act eased her nerves. She would be practical and she would not give in to her fears as Simon appeared to be overwrought enough for the both of them. Calmness and tranquillity were the keys to an orderly life. ‘Why should it affect us? Why shouldn’t we be able to go on as before? The colliery is profitable.’

      ‘Everything has changed, Diana. Everything.’ Simon’s lip curled back slightly and his eyes became even greener. ‘The bloody Earl of Coltonby now demands that I dance attendance on him and listen to his scheme for improving the area. I dare say that he will tap

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