Miss Carlyle's Curricle: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) (17 page)

“You should have waited,” Sir James said to her, his smile ironic. “But you wanted that title, didn’t you?”

“Stop!”

Diana closed her mouth on her retort, and stared at the vicar. He was pale, and his hands shook, in anger or fear, she did not know. He gazed at Gavin, and then at Sir James.

“Sir James, I suggest you step down,” he said, his voice clearly strained.

“But the impediment—”

“There is no impediment,” Vicar Southworthy said quietly.

Lord Brisbane looked sharply at the vicar, and his lips pressed together in a white, rigid line.

“I have papers to show—” Sir James protested.

“There is no impediment,” the vicar repeated, more loudly. He closed his eyes for a moment, then stared hard at Sir James. “There will be no further disturbance of this wedding ceremony; the marriage will proceed. If you continue to protest, I shall request you be bodily removed from this place.”

The interior of the church fell into stillness, as the vicar and Sir James stared at each other in silence. Then Sir James turned, and stepped down.

“You’ll regret this, Diana,” he said, his manner suddenly smooth. “You’ll not get the title or the money in the end.”

“I care not,” she said sharply. “I would marry him even if he were not the Earl of Brisbane, or even Gavin Sinclair.” A movement at her side took her attention, and she looked up to see surprise on the earl’s face. She lifted her chin, then turned to the vicar. “I thank you, Vicar Southworthy; you may proceed.”

A slight chuckle came from beside her. “Yes, Vicar, I think you had better, else our lady fire-eater will turn upon us, and then we shall both be in the suds.”

The vicar merely nodded, his gaze avoiding the earl’s. Diana looked from him to the earl and back again; a tension remained, despite Sir James’s departure. Mr. Southworthy continued, drawing Diana’s attention again to the ceremony.

But the energy of anger and indignation that had infused her suddenly left, now that the trouble was over, and she began to feel numb. Her voice answered the vicar, repeated the words, but she could not remember what she said, for the trembling went through her again, and she stiffened her spine and concentrated on banishing the shaking feeling that made her knees want to bend and fall to the floor. She would be strong. She
was
strong, and would not faint or act in a silly manner.

She heard the word “kiss” and looked up, startled, and felt Lord Brisbane’s fingers under her chin, and his hand at her waist. Her breath came quickly as she looked into his eyes, for they held a deep warmth, as if a fire barely banked lived in them. And then his lips came over hers, softly, and she held on to him, for she felt her knees could not hold her up for all her determination that they must.

They parted, and he smiled at her, then turned away from the altar, still holding her. She was glad of his support; she could pretend that she could indeed walk, and that she was not shaking, and could even smile and return her mother’s teary hug and kiss, and gravely accept Mr. Goldworthy’s congratulations.

This time Gavin helped her up into the coach, and when the door closed upon them, he moved to sit beside her, even though there would be more room if he sat opposite. He took her hand in his and brought her hand to his lips, smiling.

“Well, that was an eventful ceremony. I am sorry it was upsetting for you; I wish I could have made it better.”

Diana managed to return the smile. “I was not upset,” she said and glanced nervously away.

“Liar,” he said. “It was terrible for you. You were shaking like a leaf.”

She glared at him. “No, I wasn’t! I—” She caught the understanding glint in his eyes and looked down at her lap, her spark of anger gone. “Yes, I was shaking. I was afraid I was going to faint, and I worked very hard not to.” She looked at him defiantly. “And I did not faint.”

“You did extremely well, Lady Fire-eater. I thank you for your defense.” He put his arm around her. “You are still trembling.” He stroked her shoulder, and then his fingers came up to the back of her neck, kneading it gently. She sighed and closed her eyes, tipped back her head, and felt her spine un-stiffen. Another, deeper, sigh released itself, and her hands fell open on her lap.

A chuckle made her open her eyes again. “I see you are feeling better.”

She smiled. “Yes, thank you.” She cocked her head at him. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“On my travels,” he replied, and fell silent.

She made a disgusted snort. “Oh, you—! You never tell me anything. You shall, eventually, you know. I refuse to stay in the same house as a stranger for a husband.” Husband. Her combined irritation and amusement fell from her and she stared at him. He was her husband, and they were married until death did them part. Forever. She swallowed, and looked down at her clasped hands in her lap.

He took her hand again, lightly stroking her palm with his thumb. “Look at me, Diana,” he said. She raised her eyes to his, and he touched her cheek. “Don’t be afraid. Whatever I am, you need not be afraid of me.” He drew close and kissed her, gently, briefly. “Is that anything to be afraid of?”

“No,” she said, still staring at him, and feeling a little disappointed at such a brief touch.

He kissed her again, more firmly. “Is that?” His hand held her waist and drew her closer.

“No.” She found she was grasping tightly his other hand and her breath came a little faster.

“Or this?” he asked, and he pulled her very close and kissed her deeply.

She did not answer, and she did not want to, but held his hand tighter, her other one coming up to grab his coat’s lapel. For all that the coach was dim and closed, she wanted to be closer to him, to burrow into him somehow. His lips left hers, but she could feel his mouth on her cheek, then her chin, then the touch of his lips through the lace on her shoulder.

The coach came to an abrupt halt, jolting them. They parted, and Diana stared at him, breathing quickly, watching how he stared in return, then shifted his gaze to her lips as if he wanted to kiss her again.

“I need to see that the coach springs are replaced,” Diana said breathlessly.

His brows rose and his lips quirked up briefly. “How so?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“So they won’t jolt us the next time we ki—” She stopped and pressed her hands to her face, trying to suppress the blush that flared in her cheeks.

A shout of laughter broke from the earl. “Yes, definitely the springs must be replaced.” He took her hand in his and gestured at the footman who had just stepped up to the coach and was opening the door. “Shall we go? Our guests await,” he said.

Diana nodded, somehow feeling less anxious than she thought she would. The wedding dinner would be small, and the celebration afterward short, for they were still in mourning. She should go through that well if she concentrated on it, and then she could think of the next thing—

Her mind veered from it, and she gave herself a mental scolding as they ascended the steps to Brisbane House. The footman at the door grinned and opened the door for them, and she smiled and nodded in return. The butler’s smile was just as happy as he bowed to them. She remembered the cheery faces of the maids who had dressed her for the wedding, and how the stableboy had whistled a song as he had taken the reins of the carriage horses, despite the black crepe that had been on every wall of the house a little more than two months ago.

They were happy for her; the wedding had brought joy to her home, and for at least a while they could celebrate.

Home. Her home. This was
her
home! She looked about the great hall with new eyes. She was the mistress of Brisbane House, no longer a hanger-on. How foolish she had been for not thinking of it! She remembered when she had first come here, how full of light and freshness it had been after the darkness of London, and how free she had felt from the dirt and the fear.

Joy flooded her, and filled her eyes with tears. She would not fear having to leave, this was forever her place, her home. She gazed at Gavin, her husband—yes, her husband—who, in marrying her, had given it to her. She squeezed his arm tightly, just as they came to the drawing room door.

“Gavin . . . I am home! This is
my
home!”

He grinned. “Yes, of course it is. You are now Lady Brisbane, mistress of Brisbane House. Did you not know it?”

She laughed out of sheer delight. “No, yes—I had not thought about it. But now I am, and oh, I may live in this wonderful bright place forever!” She reached up to touch his cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.” Tentatively, she tiptoed and placed her lips on his. His breath seemed to catch when she had touched him, and he pulled her to him, and this time his kiss was deep and hungry.

A clearing of the throat made them part—heavens, they had kissed in front of the footmen! Diana’s face grew warm and she shook her head, pressing a hand to her cheek. How could she have forgotten herself? A glance at one of the footmen showed a wide grin before the butler’s stern gaze wiped it from his face.

But Diana’s joy could not be erased. The door opened to the drawing room, and more happy faces greeted her: her mother, Mr. Goldworthy, the neighbors—Lord and Lady Jardien and their son, the Dunnings and the Maddens, among others. To be sure, there was curiosity on their faces, and she had overheard some of the maids say that some invited guests had declined to come because of the scandal of the recent finding in the cottage. But this once she did not let the curiosity and the intense attention to her dampen her spirits. Brisbane House, her sanctuary, was hers, and Gavin was the cause of this very great gift.

There was no dancing, of course, but there was music; her mother played, and another guest, and another. Even Miss Colesby had brought her harp, and this time Diana thought she played excellently with great talent. Gavin stayed by her side, leaving her only a few times to speak with guests or Mr. Goldworthy. She would look up from time to time and each time he was staring at her, and then would smile, and she discovered that she did not mind him looking at her so much at all.

Soon they moved to the dining room, and Diana ate with gusto, not caring that her appetite was not ladylike. The food was rich and sumptuous, with pheasant and mutton, and more removes than she could count. She laughed and talked, more than she could ever remember doing, and she did not even mind Desmond Jardien gazing at her with envious admiration.

The ladies and gentlemen parted after dinner, and her mother came to her, holding out her hands, then clasping Diana’s tightly.

“Oh, my dear, it does my heart good to see you happy,” she said, her own face lighted with joy. “I was afraid you did not like Gavin, or perhaps the thought of marriage . . .” She hesitated. “Because of mine, you see . . .”

She hugged her mother. “No, Mama, never blame yourself. I know you did the best you could, and I know there are marriages that are happy.” She gave a smiling glance to Lady Jardien next to her. “I only need to see Lord and Lady Jardien together to know that.”

“And if your marriage is half as happy as ours, then you will be a fortunate woman, Miss—” Lady Jardien chuckled. “No, it’s not ‘miss’ anymore, is it. Lady Brisbane?”

Hearing the name and title applied to her was a shock—Diana had thought of herself as Miss Carlyle forever. She looked at Lady Jardien and wondered if she would be as happy with Gavin as the woman before her was with her husband. She did not know, and she realized she had pushed aside the question whenever it had occurred to her.

She only nodded, however, to Lady Jardien, and then looked up to see the door opening and the gentlemen entering the room. Gavin’s eyes sought her out and found her; he smiled and came toward her. A warmth rose in her heart; she recognized it as something that had occurred before in his presence, but she had pushed that aside, as well.
I cannot push aside any questions, not any more
, Diana thought.
I have made myself deliberately blind to so much—the people around me, and most of all, my own life. I can perceive clearly if I let myself. It is a weakness not to. And I
will
be strong.

Gavin came to her side at last, after pausing to speak with this guest or that. He lifted her hand to his lips and gazed at her long and seriously. She looked at him in return and smiled. “I am glad I married you, Gavin,” she said.

“Are you?” His brows rose, then he nodded. “I suppose it would be more comfortable living here than it would—”

She put her hand over his lips. “No. I know you were going to make a joke, and I know what you were going to say. Don’t say it.”

Quick anger passed over his face, then he gave her an apologetic look. “Stupid of me. I was distracted, and did not think of how my words might have affected you.”

“Besides,” Diana said, “I find I am glad not because I am Lady Brisbane, or because I am now mistress of this house.” She cast him an uncertain look, wondering if she should say it, if he would wish to hear it, and if it were too bold of her to mention it. She took a deep breath. “I believe you are the best sort of man I could possibly hope to marry, and perhaps in time our . . . our regard for each other will be mutually satisfactory.”

He grinned widely. “If I did not know better, I would think you were about to shake hands over a shipping partnership. No, I am sorry—” He took her hand, keeping her from moving from him, and bent close to her ear, whispering. “I dare not admit it aloud, but I believe I am as unsettled as a cat regarding the state of matrimony, and must make jokes to cover it up. There, I have admitted a shameful, unmanly sin: cowardice. You must not come to such hasty conclusions about me without knowing my vices, or surely your regard for me will not be . . . satisfactory.”