is utter tedium and boredom.’ Miss Bolt gave a tiny shrug of her shoulders. ‘The only good part is the number of men in uniform. Both Carlisle and Newcastle are full to the brim with soldiers. Lovely, lovely red coats and gleaming buttons. They add such colour to a party.’
‘We received our invitation yesterday.’ Diana forced her face to stay bland. Penning her regrets was a task for this afternoon. Simon might go if he liked, but she would find a reason to avoid the ball. She always did.
‘You and your darling brother must come. You missed the St Nicolas Day ball in Newcastle last Christmas and you must not miss this one.’ Miss Bolt gave a clap of her hands. ‘I knew if it was in the neighbourhood, all the eligible bachelors would come. I shall be quite in demand. I told Mama that. A woman who is in demand soon attracts the eye. It is only a matter of time before I make a brilliant match, one which is well suited to my station. Forgive me, Miss Clare, if you think me proud, but I only speak the truth.’
‘Indeed.’ Diana’s jaw tightened and she forced her smile to remain in place.
‘It would be so lovely if we had more entertainment in the district. Then, we should not have to venture quite so far afield in search of culture.’ Miss Bolt stuck her chin in the air. ‘Culture is very important to me. It is the foundation of society.’
‘You are forgetting about the Grand Allies routs. And the Sarsfields’ musicales.’ The idea that the Bolts were the final arbiter of culture in the Tyne Valley grated on Diana’s nerves. They had only arrived here when Sir Norman’s great-aunt had died and he had finally come into his inheritance. ‘The elder Miss Sarsfield plays the spinet beautifully.’
‘True, true, but I thought her Chopin was a bit sharp last week. It laid waste to poor Mama’s eardrums.’ Miss Bolt tapped a finger against her mouth. ‘There again, you were absent, weren’t you?’
‘Unavoidable. One of the servants had come down with a chill.’ Diana forced her lungs to fill with air. The excuse was threadbare, but she had discovered it was far easier to keep to her rules if she avoided entertainment wherever possible. ‘It sounded pleasant enough to me when I heard the dress rehearsal.’
‘Dear Miss Clare, if you could but hear what passes for music in the great drawing rooms of London…’
‘I have been to London, Miss Bolt.’ Diana held back a stinging retort. A lady must be polite, but Miranda really was insupportable. ‘I even managed to attend several musicale evenings there when I had my Season.’
‘The London Season. I have tried and tried to convince Mama of the necessity of a London Season. A proper one, with vouchers to Almack’s.’ Miss Bolt put her hand to her mouth. ‘My dear Miss Clare, I nearly forgot how trying the mention of London and the Season must be to you. Mama has warned me and warned me, but my tongue goes flippety-flop.’
‘Why should the mention of London be trying?’
‘You know the disaster.’ Miss Bolt lowered her voice and her blue eyes shimmered as she put a hand briefly on Diana’s elbow, a show of false concern. ‘Every time I think about it I want to weep. Mama remarked on it the other day and how it should be a lesson for me, a lesson I intend to take to my heart. Dear, dear Miss Clare, when I go to London, I shall be a success. I will not be a wallflower.’
‘I wish you every opportunity.’
‘And I will take every single one, I can assure you of that. I am meant for a viscount or an earl at the very least. It is too bad that the royal dukes are so very old.’ Miss Bolt gave her curls a little pat. ‘With my looks, breeding and Papa’s fortune, a title should be within my grasp.’
‘One should always aim for the attainable.’
‘How very witty of you. The attainable, not the unattainable. I will remember that. I collect witticisms so that I can repeat them to my friends.’ Miranda Bolt gave another trill of laughter. ‘There again, did you?’
‘Did I what?’ Diana stared at Miranda Bolt. Was Miss Bolt entirely without reason this morning? The young woman seemed intent on ignoring all of Diana’s attempts to end the conversation.
‘Aim for the attainable,’ Miranda Bolt replied with maddening complacency. ‘Is that why it was a disaster?’
‘My situation hardly compares to yours.’ Diana gritted her teeth. ‘I returned to Northumberland for family reasons.’
‘It must be so hard getting old.’ Miss Bolt tilted her head to one side and gave her parasol a twirl. ‘Every broken sleep shows. Mama told me. It is why I take such care with my complexion.’
Diana counted very slowly to ten. Passionate emotion was the enemy of reason, but the thought of Lady Bolt and her odious daughter pitying her after all these years was insupportable. ‘I believe your mother will be looking for you.’
‘Mama is always searching for me. It is part of our little game.’ Miss Bolt gave a gasp and a tremulous giggle as she lifted her reticule. ‘Is that…? Can it be Lord Coltonby’s carriage?’
Diana felt a prickling at the back of her neck and turned to see a smart yellow curricle. A tiger held the heads of two sleek bay horses. The lines of the horse proclaimed speed and the need for a firm hand on the ribbons. ‘It may be.’
‘He made his own fortune, you know,’ Miranda Bolt continued on, her cheeks becoming infused with pink. ‘Papa said that all he inherited when his brother died was a bankrupt title. Luckily Lord Coltonby had already won his fortune. He apparently has an eye for the horses. Papa is very much hoping to persuade him to support him in a business venture.’
‘Lord Coltonby is a force to be reckoned with.’
‘Have you met him? He is your nearest neighbour, after all.’ Miranda Bolt clasped her hands together. ‘I do think he is the most handsomest of men. He called on Papa the other day and we were introduced. Mama is most hopeful.’
‘How pleasant for you.’ Diana tapped her finger against her mouth, determined to make her voice sound casual, but to gently lead the subject away from Lord Coltonby. ‘The horses have good lines as well.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘It is the way they hold their heads and shift their feet. They have a bit of spirit. In the right hands that curricle would fly over the ground.’
‘I knew you would know about carriages and that sort of thing. I have heard Papa converse with you about them before.’ Miss Bolt gave a little wave of her hand as if discussing the speed of carriage and horses were somehow slightly outré. ‘I will confess that they bore me senseless. All a carriage does is get you from one place to another and wild horses scare me. But if they are Lord Coltonby’s passion, I suppose I must assume an interest. It will be expected.’
‘Horses are noble creatures. They deserve better than the conditions they are currently subjected to.’ Diana tightened her grip on her reticule. Rules. An accepted mode of behaviour. She must not give way to her anger and keep within the bounds of society. It was the only thing that protected a lady. Why did she always come so close to forgetting the basic precepts of etiquette in Miss Bolt’s presence? Diana strove to keep her voice light and bland. ‘Do you know how many horses are lost because of the mail coaches each year?’
‘Mail coaches, Miss Clare, are a necessity.’
