‘Miss Summerby? Yes—I thought it was you. In the interests of your safety, I suggest that you come with me.Now.’
It was the Earl of Rivington, and his expression was not friendly. Before she had a chance to reply, he had one strong arm round her waist to lead her away, and the crowd parted for him as if by magic. ‘My lord,’ people were murmuring. Some even bowed. ‘My lord.’
She hated this. It was as if her dream of him holding her had gone horribly, horribly wrong—especially when, as soon as they were well away from the crowd, he turned to face her with a look of sheer exasperation.
‘Miss Summerby,’ he said, ‘why is it that wherever you go, you seem intent on creating trouble for yourself?’
Dan had been at the Pavilion that morning because the Prince had arrived in town last night and wanted his opinion on some new chandeliers in the ballroom. Dan hadn’t told him what he truly thought—that they were frankly hideous. Instead, he’dsaid, ‘Perhaps a little decorum here and there might be welcome, sir.’
In Dan’s private view the entire Pavilion, with its brash domes and its odd mixture of Greek, Oriental and Egyptian ornamentation, was a monstrosity. The chandeliers were no exception, with their gaudily coloured crystal drops and gilded branches carved with nymphs. But the Prince had laughed away Dan’s comment.
‘Decorum? That’s not a word I expect from you, Rivington, my friend! I always thought you could be relied on to go over the top in everything you did. I’ve heard about your antics here in Brighton.’ He clapped Dan on the back. ‘Wild parties, wilder women—that’s the spirit. I’m holding a party myself soon and I’ll expect you and your friends to be on top form. You understand?’
Since the Prince was intent on explaining his party plans in full, Dan had got away with some difficulty, and he’d been heading through the rain for the inn where he’d left his carriage when he noticed thefracason the Parade. It was a protest, he realised, no doubt involving the usual bunch of firebrands who objected to any changes at all in Brighton even if they were for the better. He was about to walk past when he stopped abruptly, because there amongst them was Miss Kate Summerby, smack in the middle of a struggle between the protestors, the constables and some local roughs.
Dear God. What was she up to?
He knew he was unlikely to get any thanks, but he elbowed his way in, shoved a few louts out of the way, grabbed her round her waist and dragged her out of danger. She looked pale and shaken, but when he asked her why she was so intent on creating trouble for herself, her first action was to pull free of his grasp.
‘For your information, my lord,’ she said as the rain trickled down her cheeks, ‘I’m taking a stand with the others against menof wealth who use unscrupulous methods to get exactly what they want.’
‘I guess,’ Dan said, ‘that you were thinking in particular about me.’
‘Yes. Yes, I was!’ Her eyes still glittered with defiance.
‘Very well. I’ll leave you to it, then.’
‘Please do! I am among friends, and you are certainly not one of them—Oh!’
She broke off, because she’d been almost knocked over by a large horse that some fool had ridden into the crowd. Once more Dan dragged her aside, shielding her with his tall body. ‘Among friends?’ He was incredulous. ‘You aren’t referring to that man Melling, are you?’
‘I am! Mr Melling was here only a few moments ago, and he assured me he was going for help!’
‘Don’t tell me you believed him? Listen, when I arrived, I saw him scarpering like a frightened rabbit.’ Dan looked around, noting that the mayhem was in no way abating. ‘I’m getting you away from here, whether you like it or not. And I’m also going to explain why George Melling is the very last man you should trust.’
She said bitterly, ‘So the enmity between you is mutual, then?’
He stared at her. ‘Has he been talking about me?’
‘Indeed, my lord, he has!’
‘Then you had better come with me,’ he said coldly, ‘if you want to hear the truth. There’s a private parlour at the Castle Inn where you can dry out.’
He saw her open her mouth to argue but she shut it again, thinking better of it, he guessed. ‘Stay close,’ he ordered.
Her hood had fallen down and her fair hair was soaked. As they moved off, she stumbled slightly and when he took her arm, she didn’t resist but neither did she offer a word of thanks. Whenthey reached the Castle Inn, the landlord, who knew Dan, led them immediately to his best parlour, where a fire burned.
Dan ordered coffee, then made her sit down facing him.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘listen to me. Do you really think it’s wise to involve yourself in something as controversial as that protest? You could have fallen under that horse if I hadn’t been there! As for the insults you must have suffered…’
Her reply was defiant. ‘Don’t worry. I’m used to them.’
He suddenly remembered what Gascoyne had said.Apparently her Season was an absolute disaster and she became known as the debutante who couldn’t dance.‘Used to them?’ he said sharply. ‘You shouldn’t have to put up with such treatment.’
‘Shouldn’t I? It’s a funny thing, my lord.’ Her green-gold eyes glittered with resistance. ‘Those men who mocked us reminded me very much of your friends. Besides, George Melling seemed a most respectable gentleman!’
‘Respectable. Is that so? What did he say about me?’
