A Question of Impropriety. Michelle Styles
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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