Miss Carlyle's Curricle: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) by Karen Harbaugh Page B

trifling with me,” Diana said, and marched toward the house. “Do not, for I dislike it, and as you said, I am a formidable woman, and could make more trouble for you than you could like.” She could not believe him, of course, but she did not repel him with her words as she could have; an irresistible curiosity as to what he would say next stayed her.
    “Behold me trembling,” Lord Brisbane said, his long legs easily keeping up with her.
    “Oh, you are odious!” She eyed him sternly. “You cannot have fallen in love with me, not in such a short time.”
    “Love at first sight.”
    Diana blushed. “Nonsense! There is no such thing.”
    Lord Brisbane sighed. “So I thought, myself. But there you were, rain-soaked and beautiful, and I was instantly lost.”
    “Lost on the road, not in any other wise,” she retorted. “You are making fun of me, for none of that can be true.”
    “Of course it is true. You were definitely rain-soaked.”
    “Oh, and you are in the habit of falling in love with rain-soaked women, is that it?”
    “Not at all,” Lord Brisbane said. “However, if a woman is beautiful, it would certainly be an incentive.”
    She frowned. “Now I know you are hoaxing me. I am not at all beautiful. I am too tall for that.”
    “Not for me.”
    Diana looked up at him—obviously this was true. “Well . . . well, then, I am not fashionable.”
    “Fashion does not make for beauty.”
    “Quite the contrary,” she said. “I have had my Season in London, and know that it’s your fashionable sylph who is much feted. Fashion does indeed dictate what is beautiful.” She wrinkled her nose. “I am not sylphlike; therefore I am not beautiful.”
    He cocked his head and looked at her. “No one has ever admitted admiring you?”
    She rolled her eyes. “No, of course not.”
    “More fool they.” He shot a quick, laughing glance at her. “No doubt they were intimidated by your formidableness.”
    “I am not—” She stopped and closed her mouth, belatedly remembering that she had indeed agreed she was formidable. She gave him a sour look. “Believe me, I was as meek as my Aunt Matchett could make me.”
    “Impossible,” he replied. “Nothing could subdue those magnificently flashing and scornful eyes—are they gray or blue? Blue, I believe.”
    “They are pale blue,” Diana said firmly. “And they neither flash nor are they scornful.”
    “No? They seem to be, now.”
    She let out an exasperated breath. “Only because you are the most provoking man imaginable.”
    Lord Brisbane shook his head mournfully. “Worse and worse. First I am odious and now I am provoking. A very good thing I decided not to propose to you; you would have refused me immediately and I would have been cast into abject despair.”
    “I doubt it,” Diana replied, banishing a slight feeling of discontent. “Count yourself fortunate: I am persuaded you would not wish to marry a woman you hardly know, and I would much rather live on a pittance than marry a complete stranger.”
    His lordship’s expression lightened. “How gratifying to find you are not mercenary and not looking to marry a fortune or a title. Should I ever take it in my head to propose to you, I shall do so in happy confidence that your acceptance would come from your heart.”
    “And if I were to decline?”
    “There would be nothing for it but I must put a period to my existence,” Lord Brisbane said cheerfully.
    Diana stopped, then turned to stare at him, her hands on her hips. “My lord, I think you must be the strangest man I have ever met.”
    He appeared to consider her words seriously, then shook his head. “Since your sojourn in London was so short and you have grown up in the country most of your life, I cannot think your experience of men to be very great at all.” He smiled. “I am quite normal, truly.”
    He had an answer for everything it seemed, but Diana’s annoyance with him was weak at best. She smiled slightly. This