wanted them to be true. She wanted him to think well of her despite the long-ago gossip from London and Lady Bolt’s pronouncements.
Diana put a hand to her face and mentally shook herself. Soon she would wish to believe in impossible dreams again. There was safety in the everyday world. Its strictures and structures prevented impulsive action. Impetuosity had led to her downfall before. It would never do so again. She had conquered it.
‘It was lovely to meet you again after so long, Lord Coltonby,’ she said, inclining her head. ‘And to know that your feelings remain the same.’
‘My feelings towards you have never changed since the day I first glimpsed you,’ he murmured, capturing her hand again and bringing it to his lips.
Diana forced her body to stay still as his mouth touched the small gap left by her undone button. Heat washed through her. Rapidly she withdrew her hand and did the button up. When she glanced upwards, she discovered he was watching her with a sardonic twist to his lips.
‘Oh, oh, I see Mama. She will need to know…to know…’ Miss Bolt hurried away.
A smile tugged at the corner of Lord Coltonby’s lips as they watched Miss Bolt run to her mother, obviously bursting to impart the bit of gossip she had learnt.
‘That went delightfully well. Now I look forward to exploring your Northumbrian definition of intimate.’
‘I have no idea what sort of game you are playing, but I don’t like it.’ Diana took a long steadying breath. ‘We are not having and never will have a flirtation. How dare you imply otherwise?’
‘Did I? You must be reading too much into my words. A very bad habit, Miss Clare. I always mean precisely what I say. I find it saves trouble.’
‘I have shopping to do. I do not have time to discuss the precise meaning of words with acquaintances on the High Street.’
‘And here I had anticipated that we might become friends.’
‘I fear, Lord Coltonby, that we are destined for ever to remain acquaintances.’
Diana straightened her back and, with a sigh of what she convinced herself was relief, walked away from him. She refused to look behind her even when she thought she heard the word—coward.
Brett swirled the amber liquid in the crystal glass and gazed at the darkening landscape through the study’s window. All the land the eye could see—his, and unencumbered by a mortgage or debt. He had kept his promise, the one he had made on that windswept field and on the dock as he’d waved off Bagshott’s ship. He had turned his fortune around. He had not sunk into the mire like his brother, and neither had he needed to run to the Continent. And he had achieved it in his own way. And yet, the victory seemed hollow in some fashion. He pushed the thought aside. It was a victory, and that was all that mattered.
All things considered, today had gone well. He had enjoyed crossing swords with Diana Clare, far more than he ought to have.
She might not have conventional beauty, but it was her prickly exterior that intrigued him. Why was she so set against him? What had he ever done to her?
‘Simon Clare to see you.’ The butler had barely uttered the words when the tall man brushed past him. The cut of the coat might be better and the boots shinier, but Brett felt he would recognise the intensity of Clare’s eyes anywhere—and the feebleness of his manners.
Brett pursed his lips. The days when all he’d had was his name and a good eye for the horses were long gone. He refused to be intimidated by a man wearing the latest of everything and boasting about it. Clare always assumed that having money meant you could forgo the niceties of polite society.
‘Ah, Clare,’ he said, reaching for the decanter. ‘It has been a long time.’
‘I have come to discuss your latest demand.’ Clare ignored the decanter and waved a piece of paper. ‘I assume it is why you called at my house yesterday.’
‘To see if things could be settled satisfactorily without calling in the lawyers.’ Brett paused. How to say it? How not to antagonise Clare? ‘Between landowners. Disputes have a terrible way of getting out of hand.’
‘You mean amongst the aristocracy.’ Clare snorted. ‘Don’t worry. I know where I fit in. And I can guess what flim-flam Biddlestone said, but I have no intention of selling that piece of land. I might have use for it sometime in the future.’
‘Doubtful.’ Brett swirled the brandy. Clare was the same jumped-up arriviste with his eye on the main chance that he’d been at Cambridge, lacking in bottom. Dog in the manger. The land was lying derelict. ‘You have not used that wagon-way since you built the new staith. You have no use for it. I have offered a fair price in the circumstances.’
‘You know all about coal mines as well as horses now, do you? Once I have a travelling engine up and running, that old wagon-way could be highly desirable.’
‘I can tell when a man seeks to take advantage. Travelling engines are notoriously unreliable.’ Brett regarded Clare. At university, Clare had gone on and on about this investment and that investment, always seeking to further his own ends. ‘I want the land for the view over the Tyne. Not that you would understand that. The pursuit of pleasure is nothing compared to the pursuit of wealth. Wasn’t that what you proclaimed on the staircase? That first day at Cambridge?’
Clare made a disgusted noise. ‘You have a better memory than I. Is this derisory sum your final offer?’
‘It is a fair sum. Consider it. That is all I ask.’ Brett reached for the brandy again, preparing to pour Clare a glass. He and Clare were neighbours after all. They would have to put Cambridge behind them. ‘I enjoyed speaking with your sister when we met at your house.’
‘And spoke to her again on the High Street.’ Clare crossed his arms and glowered. ‘What sort of game are you playing at, Coltonby?’
‘We were introduced in London. I had no idea at the time she was your sister. She is somehow much more…’
‘Refined? Is that the word you were searching for? My sister was educated at a ladies’ academy. She is young enough not to remember how my father had to scrimp and save for every penny.’
‘Convivial was the word I was looking for.’ Brett permitted a smile to cross his face. ‘It would have been vulgar of me to cut her. Don’t you agree, Clare? I do despise vulgarity.’
A muscle in Clare’s cheek twitched. ‘I know what you and your kind are like. You are trying to use her.’
‘Am I?’ Brett managed to hang on to his temper. ‘Pray tell me how.’
‘My sister is a lady. Remember that.’
Brett stared at the man in astonishment. ‘Tell me how I have behaved inappropriately.’
‘I know what you’re like. I remember you and your deeds from Cambridge.’ Clare leant forward. ‘Your business is with me. Keep away from my sister. You are not fit company for her.’
Clare stalked out. The door slammed behind him.
‘And what will you do if I keep company with her? How will you stop me? What price will you be prepared to pay?’ Brett asked quietly in the empty room. ‘Will you sell me the land? No, you will give the land to me, Clare.’
If ever there was a woman who needed a bit of romance and flirtation in her life, it was Miss Clare. All Ladywell society would thank him if she abandoned her hideous caps. He would do it. It would prove a challenge. But in the end, Simon Clare would surrender.
Brett raised his glass. ‘To this week’s quarry—Miss Diana Clare.’
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