. Читать онлайн книгу.
made it perfectly clear that she had driven straight at the puddle. She hated to think how long it would take to clear it. Or the difficulties she would have with Jester, who appeared intent on devouring every last speck of meadow-sweet grass.
‘I like to have my roads free from hazard. It could have been worse. I intend to rattle down this road today at high speed. If a carriage had encountered the unexpected obstacle, there would have been an accident. A bad accident.’
‘It is a public road.’ Diana lifted her chin a notch. His road indeed. Arrogant. Concerned with only his pleasure and comfort. Her heart rate slowed. She was back in control. Brett Farnham and all his kind were in her past. She was immune from such men now. She knew what danger they represented. But they also understood the code. Ladies were to be respected.
‘I have never driven into a mud puddle, intentionally or unintentionally.’
‘You think I intended on driving in?’
‘As I am not privy to your thoughts, I remain unable to discern them. Mind-reading is, alas, not one of my talents. Dealing with horses is.’ But within a moment, Brett Farnham had moved around the gig and with a few whispered words coaxed Jester back towards the road.
The pool gave up its hold on the gig with a great sucking sound. Diana reluctantly admitted that he had done it far more efficiently than she could have. And except for the splashes of mud on his gleaming black Hessian boots, Brett remained spotless.
‘I must thank you for that. Very neatly done.’
‘You climb back in and then we will depart.’ He gestured towards the gig. ‘I will drive.’
‘Go? Where?’ Her throat closed around the word and she was suddenly aware how deserted the road was, how far she was from any cottage. Alone with this man. Vulnerable. ‘I refuse to go anywhere with you.’
‘I am taking you home. You drove into a mud pool. Anything could happen.’
‘My competence as a driver has never been questioned before.’
He pursed his lips and his face assumed a sceptical expression. ‘We have a difference of opinion on competence, I fear. Your horse is a placid and serene animal. Easily managed.’
‘It is not what you think. I can control Jester.’
‘And now you know what I am thinking? Mind-reading is a talent of yours. How marvellous.’ His eyes pierced her. ‘Do let me in on your secret some time. But for now, I will settle for your explanation.’
‘I failed to pay attention.’ Diana hung her head and her cheeks grew hot. ‘I was reading a…a book.’
‘Indeed. There is no book in the gig.’
‘But it has to be there,’ Diana said in dismay. ‘The last volume of Pride and Prejudice. I left it on the seat when I jumped. I had to know the ending. The author writes so well. I shall have to search out more of his books.’
‘I have it on good authority that the author is a woman.’
‘The author’s identity is a closely guarded secret, but I understand from Mrs Sarsfield that it is a man.’
‘Shall we wager on that?’ His grey eyes twinkled. ‘A simple wager. With a suitable reward.’
He held out his hand. Diana kept her hand firmly at her side. No wagers. Ever. A simple enough rule to remember. She raised her chin and stared directly at him. ‘I suspect you would not offer unless you knew the truth. I accept the author is a woman.’
‘It does help to know the publisher and his habits.’ He gave a small laugh. ‘Never wager on facts you are uncertain of or have not independently checked. It helps keep people honest. But I shall agree with you—Pride and Prejudice is well written.’
‘I had assumed that members of the Jehu club disdained reading and education, Mr Farnham.’
‘How do you know I have anything to do with the Jehu club?’ His eyes changed instantly and became cold slate.
‘My fiancé was an admirer.’ Diana spoke around the sudden tightness in her throat. ‘Algernon Finch.’
He drew his eyebrows together before shaking his head. ‘I have no recollection of the name.’
‘He was younger than you at Cambridge, but he used to speak about the doings of the Jehu club.’ Diana clenched her fist. The man who had done so much to encourage Algernon’s folly and ultimately his death had forgotten his existence. ‘He even introduced us five years ago.’
‘Five years ago is a long time. I regret that I cannot remember the occasion.’ Brett’s voice held the faintest note of hesitation. A smug satisfaction swept through Diana. It was beneath her, but she did enjoy the feeling of wrong footing a rake. ‘I look forward to renewing my acquaintance.’
‘He died five years ago, Mr Farnham.’
‘My condolences. But people will talk, and they do sometimes exaggerate the acquaintance.’ He gave a slight shrug of his perfect shoulder, once again every inch the arrogant gentleman. ‘You must not believe everything you hear. Remember that the next time. The Jehu club disbanded years ago. And it is no longer Mr Farnham. I am now the sixth Earl of Coltonby. Have been for the last six months.’
‘My mistake. Lord Coltonby.’ Diana inclined her head. ‘I am sorry for your loss, but my answer remains the same. A title does not give one licence to seduce.’
‘I can only apologise for the gross ineptitude of my sex.’ A faint dimple showed in the corner of his mouth. ‘It is lucky that I was not intending any such stratagem.’
‘I am relieved to hear it.’
His eyes slowly travelled down her body, lingered on her curves. Diana reminded herself that this was a simple round gown, nothing too flattering. Suitable for visiting the Bolts and others in the neighbourhood, but it would appear dowdy and misshapen in Newcastle, let alone under the bright lights of London. Demure. Modest. Unassuming. His fingers trapped hers, curling around them and holding them fast. He brought them to his lips as his eyes watched her with a steady gaze. ‘You will take driving lessons. I insist. Public safety demands it.’
‘The public make no such demand.’ Diana withdrew her hand and ignored the faint tremor that ran up it. ‘I doubt our paths will cross again.’
Brett Farnham stared at the woman in front of him. This interview was not going the way he had planned when he’d glimpsed her ankle and the slight curve of her calf as she’d drawn her hideous dress up to avoid the mud. ‘And if I say that the stories about me are exaggerated?’
‘My answer would remain the same. In any case, London is your natural habitat. Your stay here will be a short one.’ The Beauty’s bee-stung lips were turned down. They were the most exquisite colour of rose pink and Brett wondered what it might be like to taste them again. But he decided against the notion. He would be a fool to try such a thing without knowing her antecedents. She claimed an acquaintance. Brett took pride in being discerning. He had never toyed with a woman whose thoughts might legitimately lean towards marriage; women who understood the nature of the game were infinitely preferable.
‘It may be longer than you expect,’ he said, keeping his eyes away from the swell of her bosom. Until he knew the exact nature of her status, he refused to risk any consequence. Silently, he prayed that she might be a legitimate pursuit, rather than one who was off limits. ‘I recently won a highly desirable piece of Northumbrian property.’
‘Did you, indeed?’ Her blue-green eyes became cold. Her eyebrow arched. ‘It appears to me that you play for very high stakes. Far too high.’
‘Cuthbert Biddlestone had had rather too much port and challenged me to a race. I am hardly one to back down. I held his vowels, you see, and it was double or nothing. Now I hold the title to Ladywell Park.’
‘You raced a noted drunkard?