Miss Carlyle's Curricle: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) (10 page)

She could almost feel that she was no different from any other lady; she was certainly shorter than Gavin. As a result, she did not feel as if she were such a large lump of a creature, and certainly not as awkward.

“Let us go to the maze—have you ever been there?” she asked.

He looked at her quizzically, then said, “No. I’ve seen it from my chamber window, but have not gone near it.”

“It was sadly neglected when we first came here, and terribly overgrown,” Diana said. “But Mama has quite the green thumb, and she ordered it shaped back to its original form. I often liked to try it when I was a child, but I am afraid I never did discover the key to it or find the middle.”

“Did not your uncle tell you?”

“No, and it was the most irritating thing! Nor will the servants.” She nodded at the entrance of it, an arching rectangular hole in a tall wall of shrubbery just at the level of the top of her head. “He would not, and always said I must discern it for myself. I had always to call for help, which is why I always inform a servant I am entering it before I do.”

Lord Brisbane paused and considered the entrance in a thoughtful manner. “I am not entirely sure it would do anything for the dignity of my title if I were to call out my distress at being lost in a maze.”

Diana laughed. “No, I suppose it would not, but I have called out every time I have entered it, so no one would think it unusual of
me.
I shall do it, and your dignity shall be intact.”

His expression cleared. “How grateful I am that you are willing to sacrifice your dignity for mine.”

“You are a silly creature, to be sure!” She shook her head. “Now why is it that I suspect that you truly care nothing for your dignity?” She placed her hand on his arm—she felt more comfortable now doing it. It even felt pleasant.

“Of course I would care,” he replied. “A dandy never looks about him for help—it would mean he would have to move his head around this way and that, and it would not only disturb his shirt points, but ruin the crease of his neckcloth.”

She chuckled. “You know, I also suspect you are not as dedicated to your clothes as you would make yourself out to be. Indeed, there are at least two instances in which you allowed them to be less than perfect.”

“My dear, you pain me,” he said, putting his hand over his heart. “How could I let anything of Weston’s tailoring be treated with less than the best of care?”

“But you did.” They turned a right corner, then were faced with two choices of paths. “Since this is your first time in the maze, you may choose the direction in which we will go.”

“Ah, so I will be at fault when we are lost, is that it?”

She smiled widely. “Of course. A just payment for having me call for help to preserve your dignity.”

He laughed, then nodded to the right path. “Let us go through that one.” They stepped through the arched threshold of leaves, and he glanced at her. “Well, then, tell me, when have I been any less than impeccably dressed?”

“When we first met, you were riding in the rain. You bowed, if you remember, and your hat dripped water in your boot.”

“Ah, well, I was overcome by the sight of you. I knew not what I was doing.”

“I am surprised you did not detest me after you found your boot ruined.”

He smiled warmly at her. “It was worth it. I would ruin half a million pairs of boots for you.”

His words disconcerted her, but she would not give in to any sort of silly feelings. “Only half a million?” she teased.

“I am not
that
wealthy,” he said. “Besides, I would want to spend the rest of my fortune on
you
, of course.”

“Beware of such offers, my lord!” she said. “I might ask for terrible extravagances, and then you would be in the basket.”

They came to another choice of pathways, and after a slight hesitation, the earl chose the left one. “Such as?”

Diana knew he had inherited almost no money when he became earl, not enough to run the estate and certainly not enough for luxuries. It was only a little more than what she had been bequeathed if she did not marry. Yet, he displayed no worry over it—did he think she would marry him eventually? Certainly if they did, their combined inheritance would be a very great one—but she pushed that thought aside. She cast about in her mind for an outrageous extravagance.

“I have it: a very large and grand mansion.”

“Well, you would have one immediately in Brisbane House if I proposed to you and you accepted.” His smile grew warmer.

Again she felt disconcerted, but remembered the “ifs” in his reply, and staved off the oddly depressed feeling that had seeped into her. She made herself smile in return. “I am afraid that is not enough. We must have another, oh, in Scotland. A castle, in fact.”

He considered this. “I am persuaded you would not like it. Castles are very drafty, and it is very cold in Scotland.” Diana gazed at him. “You have been in Scotland, then?” “Yes.”

She waited for a moment, but he said nothing more, and impatience flashed through her. “Oh, you are impossible!”

He raised his brows. “How so?”

“For a man who seems to be very good at conversation and at drawing out other people, you are not at all forthcoming about yourself.” They came upon another path and Lord Brisbane led her directly down it.

“My life is not at all that interesting, believe me,” he said, but his voice became distant, and his face somber.

“Perhaps that is for me to judge,” she replied. “I, for one, think that anyone who has traveled much must have very interesting tales to tell.”

Lord Brisbane smiled slightly. “My tales are mostly full of seasickness and scratching out an existence where I could, believe me. Quite tedious.” He made another turn, and the maze suddenly opened up to a clearing.

“Ohhh,” she breathed, and looked about her with delight.

The middle of the maze contained a small garden, with a marble pond. In the midst of it was a statue of a flying horse, a Pegasus, also made of marble; its wings were spread wide, and its hooves pawed the air. The mouth was open, and sprayed forth water that sprinkled around it in a circle. The water fell with a light, laughing, burbling noise as it hit the pond’s surface. It was warmer within the maze than outside, so the rosebushes at each corner of the garden had flowers fully open. Their scent colored the air around them, and the red and pink of the buds against the deep green of the shrubbery were in vivid contrast to each other. Primroses lined the walks, between which were patches of soft green grass, and brown-eyed pansies nodded their heads at the edge of the pond.

“Oh, my!” she said. “Oh, my! I cannot believe it—I am here! After so many years. And it is so beautiful—much more than I had ever dreamed. Why did not my uncle tell me how to come here?”

A marble bench sat near the water, and the earl led her to it. She did not sit immediately, however; sheer delight at being, finally, in the middle of the maze had seized her, and it rose in a bubble of laughter in her chest. She closed her eyes and swung herself around, arms outstretched. The laugh burst out at last, and then she sat down next to Lord Brisbane.

“A prize is that much more beautiful when it is long in achieving,” Lord Brisbane said.

She turned to look at him, and his expression caught her breath: he gazed at her as if she were the prize of which he spoke. “Why do you say that?” she asked.

“Because it is true,” he said simply.

Diana shook her head slowly. “No . . . I mean, why do you say that and look at me . . . like that.” She did not know how to put it into words—the expression in his eyes made her heart beat faster and made her tremble, as if she felt a little afraid. He raised his brows. “Like what?”

“Like—oh, I don’t know!” She turned on the bench and gazed at the pond, and shuffled her feet restlessly on the gravel beneath her. Bending, she picked up a pebble and tossed it into the pond. It made no more noise or disturbance than the splashes of water already falling into it. “As if . . . as if I were not too tall or too plump or my skin too brown. As if my hair were not yellow, or my eyes too pale a blue. As if I did not stride like a man, or ride too fast or too wildly.”

He took her hand gently, looked tenderly into her eyes and bent so close to her she trembled again—was he going to kiss her? But then Diana felt something heavy drop into her hand.

“Try this,” he said softly, his voice floating to her ear in the most romantic tones she had ever heard. “A large rock will make a much more satisfying splash than a pebble.”

She stared at him, and the next breath she took spurted out in a laugh. The next one she tried to suppress with her hand, but it burst through her fingers, and the next she did not even try to repress. “Oh! Oh, y-you—!” She gasped and laughed again, helplessly. “You are—are t-terrible!”

His face took on a morose expression. “I was only trying to be of help.”

Diana doubled over, pressing her hands to her mouth, but it only made her laughter turn to shrieks. “Oh, ohhh! How could you—oh, I swear I almost thought you were—and then the rock—”

“Well, I was, but I thought throwing the rock might be more satisfying to you,” he said, grinning.

She stared at him, wide-eyed, her lips still trembling with laughter. “Oh, no—that is, it would be satisfying, but it is not to say—I mean—” She stopped, and she could feel her face becoming more warm than it was already from laughing.

He shook his head. “You are a strange young lady, to be sure! I have never met a woman who rated her looks so low.”

“I have it on good authority that I am as fashionable as a milkmaid.” She shrugged. “Coarse and awkward. I heard it many times in London.”

“From whom?”

“My Aunt Matchett, and then it was picked up by those around her.” The words still stung, even as she said them. She looked away from him. “No one would dance with me at the end of my Season, for fear that I would step on their toes, and being as big as I am, no doubt I would have injured them quite severely.”

Her arm was suddenly seized, and she stared at Lord Brisbane’s abruptly stormy face. “Stand up.”

“What—?”

“I said, stand up.”

She stood, and stared at his neckcloth, suddenly not able to meet his eyes. “Now, look at me.”

She did not, not right away, and his hand came under her chin, forcing it up. Her eyes met his at last, reluctantly, and he gazed at her with a blazing intensity—she did not know if it was anger, or something else.

“You have to look
up
at me, do you not?”

She nodded, slowly.

“Therefore you are not tall, not to me.”

“But—”

He put his hand over her mouth. “Hush! Listen, for once.” His hand moved gently away from her lips and caressed her cheek. “Your skin is not brown, but golden. It shines as if it were gilded. Your hair—” He plucked at the pins that held it in place, and it fell to her waist as he threaded his fingers through it. “Your hair is not yellow, but the color of the sun, almost blinding in its brilliance. Your eyes are not pale blue, but the color of the summer sky.”

Her breath came quickly as she stared at him. “Please—” she whispered, and a light trembling shook her. “I’m not—”

“No, say nothing.” Lord Brisbane’s voice was softer now, but just as commanding. “Listen.” His hand moved to cup her chin, gently this time. “Your lips are the color of new roses, and sweeter than Spanish sherry.” He bent and touched them with his own, briefly, and she could not help making a little sound, a sigh that seemed to come up from deep inside. “Big?” His hands slid to her waist, and he gave a laugh, sounding breathless. “My hands can almost go around your waist.”

She could not stop looking into his eyes; they froze her to the spot—no, not frozen, for she felt too warm now, as if she had been running. “Only the front of my waist. And your—your hands are very large.” Her voice came out, also breathless, a whisper.

He laughed again, a husky sound. “How convenient, since you insist on emphasizing how big you are. Just think how well they can hold you.”

It was all she could think of, the way his hands caressed her waist and drew her close, the way his fingers massaged the small of her back. Or no, there were his lips as well, the way they hovered over hers, not quite touching her mouth as he gazed into her eyes. She could feel his breath flow over her hips, a prelude to his touch. A laughing wild look flashed in his eyes, and his hand pushed up her chin so that her lips reached his at last.

She moaned—she could not help it. It came up from the pit of her belly, from the depths of her heart. She grasped his shoulders, and tiptoed so that she could press her mouth against his. His hands—his hands moved from her waist to her hips, pressing her close to him, and a heat rose from there, tingling outward to her skin.

He moved his mouth a little from hers. “Open them, Diana,” he whispered. He kissed her again, licking slightly the corners of her mouth. Tentatively, she parted her lips, and his were upon them again, kissing her deeply, pulling her closer than ever.

A movement, a tug, and she found herself sitting on his lap upon the bench, gasping, for his lips had left hers and had kissed a trail from her chin to her shoulder. She closed her eyes, feeling drugged and dizzy, and tightened her grasp on his shoulders.