Читать книгу A Question of Impropriety - Michelle Styles, Michelle Styles - Страница 8

Chapter Three

‘Have you heard about the exciting development, Miss Clare?’ The tinkling tones of the Honourable Miss Miranda Bolt assaulted Diana’s ears as she left the circulating library the next morning.

Pride and Prejudice had been safely returned to the library, and Diana had no reason to even think about her new neighbour. Her well-ordered life would go on as before. She would be able to concentrate on things like needlework and visiting the houses of the colliery’s employees, tasks that today held about as much appeal as getting her teeth pulled. But good tasks, worthwhile ones.

‘What news? What has happened?’ Diana asked cautiously as she turned to greet the impeccably dressed Miranda Bolt. Already she could feel a distinct pain behind her eyes. ‘Is it anything untoward, Miss Bolt?’

‘Positively the most important thing that has happened in the district for the last century.’ Miss Bolt gave a toss of pale yellow curls. Her tiny mouth quivered with excitement. ‘My parents are to give a ball in honour of our new neighbour. I fainted when I heard the news. Mama had to call for the smelling salts. Papa has agreed to the ball.’

‘You mean the most important thing to happen to the district since the Napoleonic War.’

‘War 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.’ Miss Bolt looked down her nose. ‘How else would I know which regiments were in Newcastle?’

‘How, indeed?’ Diana hid a smile and felt the tension ebbing from her shoulders. She would now bring the conversation to a close and everything would be well.

‘I do believe he has glanced this way.’ Miss Bolt rapidly smoothed her skirt and readjusted her bonnet. ‘Mama says that his fortune exceeds that of Lord Allendale and Lord Carlisle combined. Mama is always right about such things. Marriage is not something that should be left to the young. She is singularly determined.’ Miss Bolt gave another trilling laugh. ‘But I forgot, dear Miss Clare, you are unlikely to marry. The ever-so-sensible Miss Clare. Does it pain you when other people speak of marriage?’

‘It does not affect me in the slightest, Miss Bolt. I take little notice of such things. If you will forgive me, Robert requires a few sweetmeats from the grocer’s. He particularly asked for candied peel in his last letter.’ Diana started to move away from Miss Bolt, but the young woman clutched Diana’s arm.

‘Wait, please, Miss Clare. Your dear sweet nephew can have his things later. My need is at present the greater one.’

‘Miranda Bolt, kindly contain your gesticulations.’ Diana stared in astonishment at the young woman. And slowly Miss Bolt released her vice-like grasp. Diana rubbed her arm, trying to get the blood to flow again.

‘If I have given offence, I most humbly beg your pardon, but please remain here with me.’ A faint glimmering of tears shone in Miss Bolt’s eyes. ‘Do not desert me in my hour of need!’

‘Why? What is so urgent? What disaster can possibly befall you on Ladywell’s High Street?’ Diana struggled to contain her temper. She started to fumble in her reticule. ‘Are you feeling unwell? Do you need smelling salts?’

‘Lord Coltonby is going to acknowledge me. I know he is. He is coming towards me. We met the other day when he called on Papa. It was a very brief meeting, but somehow I knew.’ She gave a huge sigh. ‘It is in the way he says hello. And he is attainable, I know he is.’

Diana’s hand stopped halfway out of her reticule. Someone had to warn the girl before she did something foolish, before she made a life-altering mistake. Rakes only brought scandal. ‘Miss Bolt, Lord Coltonby is definitely not one of the attainables. You will have to trust my judgement on this matter.’

‘We shall see.’ Miss Bolt nodded towards where Lord Coltonby had emerged from the livery stables. His black coat contrasted with the cream of his breeches. He appeared every inch the gentleman, but there was something more in the way he moved, something untamed, something that called to her. Diana forcibly wrenched her gaze away and filled her lungs with steadying breaths. She tried to remember all the reasons why Lord Coltonby was dangerous, and found she could only think of his smile.

‘It does appear that he is coming towards us, but it could be that he wishes to visit the circulating library.’ Diana prayed he would nod, acknowledge them both and move on. A civilised way out of her predicament.

‘My knees grow weak. Mama will be ecstatic.’ Miss Bolt hurriedly pinched her cheeks and straightened her gown. ‘To be favoured in this way by Lord Coltonby. Do you know how far his lineage stretches back? Mama had me learning it the other night. Fortune favours the well prepared.’

‘You hardly need me here.’ Diana prised Miss Bolt’s fingers from her sleeve. ‘Your mama has brought you up properly. Eschew the vulgar and you will prosper.’

‘I have heard of his reputation and do not wish him to say anything untoward,’ Miss Bolt whispered. ‘Mama insists that there always be a witness. A woman of quality cannot be too careful, particularly when she means to catch an earl.’

Diana pressed her lips together, holding back the words of warning. Poor foolish Miss Bolt. She had never expected to feel pity for the young woman. Someone needed to explain about the consequences of trying to capture a rake. Someone—but not her. Miss Bolt would dismiss her as a jealous spinster. And what could she say without betraying her own experience?

Diana wrinkled her nose and looked again at the figure striding towards them. His top hat shrouded his expression. The only thing she could do was to try to subtly protect Miss Bolt. It was her duty.

‘You always have a choice, Miss Bolt. Your mother will not be the one married to him.’

‘But will I make the right decision? My future husband needs to be someone special, someone who will put me on a pedestal.’ She shook her head. ‘It is a matter that vexes me nightly. I must marry well, Miss Clare. A title or a fortune, preferably both. It is expected. Mama will not have it any other way. And sometimes I dream of dashing redcoats and faraway places.’

‘Sometimes, the unexpected happens.’ Diana kept her voice carefully neutral, but felt her throat tighten around the last words. Suddenly she wanted Miss Bolt to experience happiness. ‘Hold fast to your dreams, Miss Bolt. Never settle for second best.’

Miss Bolt gave a small squeak in response and grabbed Diana’s arm again.

‘Ah, Miss Clare, how delightful to see you again.’ Lord Coltonby captured Diana’s hand and brought it to his lips. He held it there for an instant longer than was proper. Diana gave a little tug. His thumb lightly caressed her palm as he released it. She was grateful that the shadow of her bonnet hid the sudden flame of her cheeks. She regarded his black boots, counted to ten and regained a measure of control.

‘Lord Coltonby. I have returned the book to the library. It will trouble you no further.’

‘I can only hope you enjoyed the ending as much as I did.’ His rich voice rolled over her. ‘I enjoy a happy ending.’

Miranda Bolt gave a soft cough and pointedly held out her hand. Her eyelashes fluttered and her soft blonde curls quivered. ‘Lord Coltonby, it is marvellous to see you again. Such an unexpected pleasure.’

‘Miss Bolt.’ Lord Coltonby inclined his head, but made no move to take the outstretched fingertips. ‘I trust your mother is well. The fruit basket she sent over was such a thoughtful, welcoming present.’

‘Mama will be so pleased.’ Miss Bolt swept into a deep curtsy. ‘She told me to ask specifically after your health if we should meet. She has several tonics that you might wish to try if the Northumbrian air proves to be too chilly…’

‘How kind of Lady Bolt. I have no need of attention at the moment.’

Diana breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps Miss Bolt was not in his sights. She could safely take her leave, if Miss Bolt would let her have a word.

As Miranda twittered on about the weather, Lord Coltonby languidly reached into his pocket and withdrew his snuffbox. Diana’s eyes narrowed and her body tensed as she remembered Algernon had once used that stratagem. Should she intervene? She could see Miss Bolt at war with herself over whether or not to take the proffered snuff. Diana gave a pointed cough and shook her head. Miss Bolt’s face fell, but she made no further move towards the snuffbox.

‘You do not approve, Miss Clare. I can tell from the set of your eyebrows,’ Lord Coltonby said and a faint smile touched his lips. ‘The ever-so-faintly censorious Miss Clare. Always so determined to do what is right and proper.’

‘Whether I approve or not is immaterial as you appear intent on taking snuff.’ Diana kept her chin up and made her gaze meet his, forced herself to ignore her natural inclination to walk away as quickly as dignity would allow. She would protect Miranda. She refused to allow an innocent to be drawn into his web. No true lady could ever do that.

‘But I desire your good opinion. Your smile is so much prettier than your frown.’ Lord Coltonby slid the snuffbox back into his pocket. ‘I bow to your knowledge of the local situation as I do in all things. What is permissible in London…And it was a gift from Brummell.’

‘The rules of society seldom change that much, Lord Coltonby.’ Diana drew a deep breath and tightened her grip on her reticule. Protecting herself had to come second when she was faced with a situation like this. Miss Bolt stood poised on a precipice. She did not understand the danger. Surely a small sacrifice on Diana’s part was worth preserving Miss Bolt’s reputation. ‘I find if one exercises common sense and courtesy, most situations resolve themselves.’

‘What sound and estimable advice, Miss Clare. Is it any wonder I hang on your every word?’ A dimple flashed in his cheek.

‘Insincere flattery does you no favours, Lord Coltonby.’

‘How do you know it is insincere?’

‘It was the upward twitch of your lips that gave me the final clue,’ Diana said with crushing firmness. All she wanted was to end this exchange, to get back home where she was safe.

He gave a barely suppressed snort of laughter. His grey eyes shone like opals. ‘As ever, Miss Clare, I find it difficult to disconcert you…but it is so much fun to try. I can’t remember when I have been so amused.’

‘My existence does not revolve around your amusement.’

‘It could be arranged, if you desired it.’ His voice lowered to a purr, one that played on her senses and made promises of sensual delights, if only she’d accept. As if she were some naïve débutante to be led astray during a visit to Vauxhall Gardens.

Diana shook her head. She’d never forget. She knew him for what he was—a leader of the Jehu club, the prince of rakes. Such men spelt trouble for the unwary woman. They were only interested in their own pleasure, and took rather than gave. But a tiny piece of her wanted to believe that he was different.

‘Ignorance is bliss, as some say.’

‘But I thought you enjoyed being educated, Miss Clare. A denizen of the circulating library?’

Diana struggled to contain her temper. He delighted in provoking her.

‘I was unaware that you were familiar with Lord Coltonby, Miss Clare. That you were intimate friends.’ Miss Bolt’s voice held an edge to it and her tiny mouth turned down, giving her the appearance of having swallowed a particularly sour plum.

She elbowed her way so she was standing between Diana and Lord Coltonby. The feathers on Miranda’s bonnet tickled Diana’s nose and she fought against the urge to sneeze. She stepped to one side.

‘Intimate? Are we?’ Lord Coltonby raised an eyebrow, regarded her with a faintly sardonic look. ‘You must inform me of the Northumbrian definition of intimate, Miss Clare. I wish to see if it coincides with mine. As you know, I never like to disappoint a lady.’

‘She hasn’t said anything. She simply let me make a fool out of myself,’ Miss Bolt cried. ‘She has been keeping secrets!’

‘Miss Bolt, Lord Coltonby and I were acquainted in London,’ Diana replied, swallowing hard, scarcely able to believe it was her own voice. ‘Lord Coltonby was good enough to call on me the other day as he happened to be in the neighbourhood and we renewed our acquaintance. He seeks to tease. It is his way. You must ignore him.’

‘I always like to renew acquaintances where I can.’ A bright light appeared in Lord Coltonby’s eyes. ‘Particularly when they are as charming as Miss Clare. It was one of the bonuses of coming to reside in this neighbourhood, to be able to renew an acquaintance that was cruelly cut short.’

Diana tilted her head and peered at him from under her lashes. This time his face, save his dancing eyes, was a mask of sincerity. No one would guess that it was an act. Her heart thudded in her ears. She played with the button of her glove, wishing she knew why he seemed determined to play this game.

‘Lord Coltonby seeks to flatter, but one must never believe insincere flattery.’

‘You sought Miss Diana Clare out? Deliberately?’ Miss Bolt gave a little stamp of her foot. Diana noted her face did not appear nearly as angelic. ‘You went to visit her? But I always understood her time in London to have been a complete and utter disaster.’

‘You were misinformed, Miss Bolt.’ Lord Coltonby made a deep bow. ‘She was one of the highlights of the Season that year. Unfortunately, duty called her home and the capital became a little greyer, a little less pleasant.’

‘Duty…yes, I suppose.’ Miss Bolt tapped a finger against her folded arms. ‘Poor Mr Clare’s wife died, leaving him that…that boy. I had never considered. It makes a great deal of sense now that I think of it. Dear Miss Clare was truly selfless.’

‘Every time I have encountered Miss Clare, I have noted her quality. It is only increased if she also manages an impossible child.’

‘Robert is far from being impossible,’ Diana protested. ‘He’s lovely, if a little high spirited. I am very proud of my nephew.’

‘High spirited? He put beetles in your sugar bowl and frightened poor Mama half out of her wits.’

‘He had thought the bowl empty.’ Diana stifled a smile as she remembered the incident from earlier that summer. Robert had sworn that it was a natural history experiment, but neither of the Bolts had been amused, particularly as one of the beetles had found its way on to Miss Bolt’s new straw bonnet. Simon had claimed he’d been able to hear the shrieking all the way from the estate office. ‘He did apologise.’

‘Only because you demanded it.’ Miss Bolt gave a loud sniff. ‘I can never look at that particular bonnet without a shiver going down my back. If you hadn’t plucked the beetle out!’

‘It is good to hear that Miss Clare had the situation well in hand. Quick thinking and a calm head are qualities to be admired.’

Diana lifted her gaze and met Lord Coltonby’s steady one. She nodded her thanks. She bit her lip. She had been so quick to believe the worst of him. What if she had made a mistake? What if he truly sought only friendship?

‘I must confess to having never given it much thought. A cool head in a moment of crisis. You could describe it that way.’ Miss Bolt drew her top lip over her front teeth, giving her face the expression of a startled rabbit, and brought Diana back to reality. ‘Mama can be wrong in her assessments of people sometimes.’

‘I consider it best to judge people as individuals. To eschew cant and hypocrisy whenever possible.’

Miss Bolt’s smile vanished as she looked quickly from one to the other. ‘I don’t listen to gossips.’

‘You have a wise head on your young shoulders, then, Miss Bolt. Discover the true person. That is the key to success.’

Diana knew the words were for Miss Bolt’s benefit, but to her surprise a tiny piece of her wanted them to be true. She wanted him to think well of her despite the long-ago gossip from London and Lady Bolt’s pronouncements.

Diana put a hand to her face and mentally shook herself. Soon she would wish to believe in impossible dreams again. There was safety in the everyday world. Its strictures and structures prevented impulsive action. Impetuosity had led to her downfall before. It would never do so again. She had conquered it.

‘It was lovely to meet you again after so long, Lord Coltonby,’ she said, inclining her head. ‘And to know that your feelings remain the same.’

‘My feelings towards you have never changed since the day I first glimpsed you,’ he murmured, capturing her hand again and bringing it to his lips.

Diana forced her body to stay still as his mouth touched the small gap left by her undone button. Heat washed through her. Rapidly she withdrew her hand and did the button up. When she glanced upwards, she discovered he was watching her with a sardonic twist to his lips.

‘Oh, oh, I see Mama. She will need to know…to know…’ Miss Bolt hurried away.

A smile tugged at the corner of Lord Coltonby’s lips as they watched Miss Bolt run to her mother, obviously bursting to impart the bit of gossip she had learnt.

‘That went delightfully well. Now I look forward to exploring your Northumbrian definition of intimate.’

‘I have no idea what sort of game you are playing, but I don’t like it.’ Diana took a long steadying breath. ‘We are not having and never will have a flirtation. How dare you imply otherwise?’

‘Did I? You must be reading too much into my words. A very bad habit, Miss Clare. I always mean precisely what I say. I find it saves trouble.’

‘I have shopping to do. I do not have time to discuss the precise meaning of words with acquaintances on the High Street.’

‘And here I had anticipated that we might become friends.’

‘I fear, Lord Coltonby, that we are destined for ever to remain acquaintances.’

Diana straightened her back and, with a sigh of what she convinced herself was relief, walked away from him. She refused to look behind her even when she thought she heard the word—coward.

Brett swirled the amber liquid in the crystal glass and gazed at the darkening landscape through the study’s window. All the land the eye could see—his, and unencumbered by a mortgage or debt. He had kept his promise, the one he had made on that windswept field and on the dock as he’d waved off Bagshott’s ship. He had turned his fortune around. He had not sunk into the mire like his brother, and neither had he needed to run to the Continent. And he had achieved it in his own way. And yet, the victory seemed hollow in some fashion. He pushed the thought aside. It was a victory, and that was all that mattered.

All things considered, today had gone well. He had enjoyed crossing swords with Diana Clare, far more than he ought to have.

She might not have conventional beauty, but it was her prickly exterior that intrigued him. Why was she so set against him? What had he ever done to her?

‘Simon Clare to see you.’ The butler had barely uttered the words when the tall man brushed past him. The cut of the coat might be better and the boots shinier, but Brett felt he would recognise the intensity of Clare’s eyes anywhere—and the feebleness of his manners.

Brett pursed his lips. The days when all he’d had was his name and a good eye for the horses were long gone. He refused to be intimidated by a man wearing the latest of everything and boasting about it. Clare always assumed that having money meant you could forgo the niceties of polite society.

‘Ah, Clare,’ he said, reaching for the decanter. ‘It has been a long time.’

‘I have come to discuss your latest demand.’ Clare ignored the decanter and waved a piece of paper. ‘I assume it is why you called at my house yesterday.’

‘To see if things could be settled satisfactorily without calling in the lawyers.’ Brett paused. How to say it? How not to antagonise Clare? ‘Between landowners. Disputes have a terrible way of getting out of hand.’

‘You mean amongst the aristocracy.’ Clare snorted. ‘Don’t worry. I know where I fit in. And I can guess what flim-flam Biddlestone said, but I have no intention of selling that piece of land. I might have use for it sometime in the future.’

‘Doubtful.’ Brett swirled the brandy. Clare was the same jumped-up arriviste with his eye on the main chance that he’d been at Cambridge, lacking in bottom. Dog in the manger. The land was lying derelict. ‘You have not used that wagon-way since you built the new staith. You have no use for it. I have offered a fair price in the circumstances.’

‘You know all about coal mines as well as horses now, do you? Once I have a travelling engine up and running, that old wagon-way could be highly desirable.’

‘I can tell when a man seeks to take advantage. Travelling engines are notoriously unreliable.’ Brett regarded Clare. At university, Clare had gone on and on about this investment and that investment, always seeking to further his own ends. ‘I want the land for the view over the Tyne. Not that you would understand that. The pursuit of pleasure is nothing compared to the pursuit of wealth. Wasn’t that what you proclaimed on the staircase? That first day at Cambridge?’

Clare made a disgusted noise. ‘You have a better memory than I. Is this derisory sum your final offer?’

‘It is a fair sum. Consider it. That is all I ask.’ Brett reached for the brandy again, preparing to pour Clare a glass. He and Clare were neighbours after all. They would have to put Cambridge behind them. ‘I enjoyed speaking with your sister when we met at your house.’

‘And spoke to her again on the High Street.’ Clare crossed his arms and glowered. ‘What sort of game are you playing at, Coltonby?’

‘We were introduced in London. I had no idea at the time she was your sister. She is somehow much more…’

‘Refined? Is that the word you were searching for? My sister was educated at a ladies’ academy. She is young enough not to remember how my father had to scrimp and save for every penny.’

‘Convivial was the word I was looking for.’ Brett permitted a smile to cross his face. ‘It would have been vulgar of me to cut her. Don’t you agree, Clare? I do despise vulgarity.’

A muscle in Clare’s cheek twitched. ‘I know what you and your kind are like. You are trying to use her.’

‘Am I?’ Brett managed to hang on to his temper. ‘Pray tell me how.’

‘My sister is a lady. Remember that.’

Brett stared at the man in astonishment. ‘Tell me how I have behaved inappropriately.’

‘I know what you’re like. I remember you and your deeds from Cambridge.’ Clare leant forward. ‘Your business is with me. Keep away from my sister. You are not fit company for her.’

Clare stalked out. The door slammed behind him.

‘And what will you do if I keep company with her? How will you stop me? What price will you be prepared to pay?’ Brett asked quietly in the empty room. ‘Will you sell me the land? No, you will give the land to me, Clare.’

If ever there was a woman who needed a bit of romance and flirtation in her life, it was Miss Clare. All Ladywell society would thank him if she abandoned her hideous caps. He would do it. It would prove a challenge. But in the end, Simon Clare would surrender.

Brett raised his glass. ‘To this week’s quarry—Miss Diana Clare.’