Michelle Styles - A Question of Impropriety

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.’