A Question of Impropriety. Michelle Styles
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‘My clothes suit the life I have chosen.’
‘It is such a pity. All those lovely silks going to waste.’
‘They stay where I put them—in the attic.’
‘You have mourned your fiancé for too long, Miss Diana. No one expects it. Not after the manner in which he died.’
Diana froze. How could she explain to anyone that she went down on her knees every night and thanked God for her lucky escape? That she had no intention of being caught out again. Ever. There were things about the past that even Rose did not know. Diana forced her fingers to pick up a pile of letters from the dressing room table. ‘The post has arrived. You should have said.’
Rose tightened her lips and showed that she remained unmoved by Diana’s sudden enthusiasm for her letters. ‘Doctor Allen has written. Already.’
‘What has Robert done now? It is barely a week into term.’ Diana tore the seal on the schoolmaster’s letter. ‘He promised me when we said goodbye that there would be no repeat of last year. He would attend to his studies. Simon will be so cross.’
‘It would be better if—’
Rose’s words were drowned out by a door being flung open. The noise resounded throughout the substantive house. Diana gave Rose a startled look and hurried out of the room.
‘He’s gone and done it! Lost everything! On a horse race!’
‘Who has gone and done what, Simon?’ Diana regarded her brother’s thunderous face as he strode about the entrance hall, his black coat flapping and his neckcloth wildly askew. ‘You will make yourself ill, if you continue in this manner. Be calm and collected.’
Simon gave her a disgusted look.
‘Cuthbert Biddlestone has wagered his fortune on a carriage race. And lost.’ He handed the cane and top hat to Jenkins, the butler. ‘He lost his entire Northumberland estate, everything that was not in the entail.’ Simon Clare shook his head as his dark green eyes flashed emerald fire. ‘He wagered the whole thing on his ability to handle the ribbons against one of the best horsemen in the country! His father would be turning in his grave if he knew.’
‘I suspect he did know. It is why he put off Sir Cuthbert’s majority until he was thirty.’ Diana forced her lips to turn up, but saw no answering smile in her brother’s face. If anything, his face became darker. ‘You always predicted such a thing would happen. What was it that you called Sir Cuthbert—a witless fop?’
‘He was a fool. He claimed in his letter that it was my fault as he wanted the money to invest in the travelling engine.’
‘That is complete nonsense!’
‘But it is exactly like Biddlestone. And he did not listen to what I said. I only wanted a bit of his money…for my new engine. Then with the proceeds from the investment, he would have been able to build that new Italianate manor he was always on about. I was even prepared to sell him that parcel of land overlooking the Tyne—you know, the one where the old wooden wagon-way used to run—at a knockdown price.’ Simon ran a finger about his collar.
‘But what does this have to do with the new owner?’
‘He wants to buy the land. Says Biddlestone and I had an agreement. Goodness knows what arrangement he will then strike with Sir Norman Bolt. Bolt’s been after that land for years. About the only spark of intelligence Biddlestone showed was his loathing of Sir Norman.’ Simon’s lower lip stuck out. ‘Is it any wonder that I am furious? Get me the latest copy of Debrett’s, Jenkins, I want to know the measure of this Earl of Coltonby.’
Diana reached down and gave Titch a pat on the head. Lord Coltonby had told the truth—he was their nearest neighbour. The terrier looked up with big eyes. The simple act eased her nerves. She would be practical and she would not give in to her fears as Simon appeared to be overwrought enough for the both of them. Calmness and tranquillity were the keys to an orderly life. ‘Why should it affect us? Why shouldn’t we be able to go on as before? The colliery is profitable.’
‘Everything has changed, Diana. Everything.’ Simon’s lip curled back slightly and his eyes became even greener. ‘The bloody Earl of Coltonby now demands that I dance attendance on him and listen to his scheme for improving the area. I dare say that he will tap me for money. These aristocrats are all the same. Jenkins, I want my copy of Debrett’s now, not in a month’s time!’
‘I am trying, Mister Clare.’ The butler’s voice echoed from the library. ‘It does take time.’
‘I know of Lord Coltonby,’ Diana said quietly as Simon looked about to explode and the butler wore a hurt expression. The last thing she wanted was to have to find yet another butler. Jenkins was the third butler they had had in a year. ‘He was there when Algernon died. One of the seconds…for the other man. It was all in Algernon’s last letter. Then Brett Farnham…’
Diana hated the way her voice trembled. She swallowed hard and steeled herself to explain about today, but Simon held up his hand, preventing her from speaking further, from telling him about her earlier encounter with Lord Coltonby.
‘By all that is holy! Brett Farnham…’ He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. ‘I never realised your fiancé knew him. I would never have listened to Jayne and agreed to the match if I’d known that.’
‘You never wished to know much about him,’ Diana replied carefully. She refused to speak ill of the dead—neither Algernon nor Simon’s late wife, Jayne. ‘Perhaps it would have been better if you had. How do you know Brett Farnham?’
‘Farnham and I were at Cambridge together. He with his drawling voice and oh-so-smooth manner as he threatened to dunk me in the Cam for wearing the wrong cut of coat.’
‘It was mostly likely a joke, in poor taste, but an idle boast.’
‘The water was ice cold, but I swam to the other side while he and the rest of his cohorts stood braying on the bank.’ Simon’s eyes flashed a brilliant green. ‘The man is debauched, Diana. He bragged about his gambling prowess and how well he drove carriages. And the women. You should have seen the parade in and out of his rooms. He and his kind are one of the reasons I detested Cambridge.’
‘It may not be as bad you fear. Rakes are ever in need of money.’ Diana kept her head high and her voice expressionless. She wanted to shake Simon. He should have questioned her chaperon in greater detail before entering into negotiations about her marriage.
‘Why me? Why now when the engine design is beginning to show its true potential? Why am I being punished in this way?’ Simon slammed his hand down on the mantelpiece, making the Dresden shepherdess jump. ‘I should have insisted on the agreement being formal, but Sir Cuthbert hemmed and hawed about being honourable gentlemen. Honourable! Him! My great-aunt Fanny! He wagered his entire estate on a daft horse race. How can that be considered honourable?’
‘He was not the man his father was.’ Diana closed her eyes. ‘The ways of the aristocracy are very different from ours. They always honour their debts to other gentlemen.’
‘And never to their tailors. Papa finished being a tradesman before you were born and I am no tradesman’s son.’ Simon waved an impatient hand. ‘I do not need the lecture, Diana. We both know what they are like, despite our dear papa’s desire to become one. Coltonby is the worst of the lot. Mark my words. He will be up to some deviltry.’
‘You don’t know that.’ Diana laid a hand on her brother’s arm. She had to get Simon out of his black mood. A fit of the blue devils was not what anyone needed. The entire house’s routine would be upset for days on end. ‘Think logically, Simon.’
‘You are against me as well! My own sister.’ Simon slammed his fist against the table, narrowly missing the alabaster lamp.
‘Simon Clare. Do not pick a fight with me, simply because you are cross with Lord Coltonby and his treatment of you years ago. You will find the finance