‘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 judge yourself too harshly. You have done so ever since you returned from London.’ Rose made an impatient motion with her hand. ‘And what do you know of rakes and their doings? You resolutely refuse to read the Crim. Con. 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.’