‘And men like me, I presume.’
She thought a moment. ‘I have never met anyone like you, Lord Rivington—and that could be either a compliment or an insult, take it as you will.’
Kate was actually rather horrified at herself. How did she dare to speak to him like this? But then he sat back and he laughed, and eventually he said, ‘That hat with the cherries on made me smile the other day. You make me smile—and that, I assure you, is very much a compliment.’
The carriage rattled onwards but for Kate, time seemed for a moment to stand still. Once more she fought desperately for something sensible to say, something to lighten what was in danger of becoming a tense silence, until she suddenly realised that the carriage was drawing to a halt outside Clematis Villa, too soon. Far too soon.
He escorted her to the front door and bowed his head. ‘That is the last of our outings, Miss Summerby, and I sincerely hope that your future trips into Brighton will be more pleasurable from now on. If you have any more trouble, please call on me.’
Once more his manner had become completely formal and she responded in the same way. ‘Thank you, Lord Rivington. I am truly grateful.’ Then he headed back to his carriage, which was soon pulling out of sight, and Kate was aware of a huge feeling of emptiness, of loss even. Surely, she hadn’t expected him to suggest another outing? Of course not!Our time together was by no means a disaster, she told herself firmly.He and I have been seen to be on neighbourly terms, and that is perfectly satisfactory.
Indeed, it was far more than she could possibly have expected. She was a failed debutante of modest background, while he, as well as being one of England’s loftiest peers, was also a deeply damaged man and totally cynical about life and love. But that night she found herself lying in her bed hearing again his husky chuckle and reliving in her imagination the warmth of his hand on hers.
She realised that already, she was missing him.
During the next fortnight Kate was kept busy tending the garden with Harriet and sewing new cushion covers for the parlour. One day she and Harriet went to visit the little school where the vicar’s wife Mrs Pritchard had organised a handicrafts afternoon for the children, and Kate found herself getting gloriously messy with glue and paints.
Joseph took her into town one morning and while walking along the Steine she was greeted by a group of ladies exclaiming, ‘Miss Summerby! How delightful to see you. Did you enjoy the lecture about Oliver Cromwell?’ Then the coy smiles followed. ‘Perhaps we will see you with the Earl again soon?’
Kate answered politely and dismissively. There were no more parties at the Earl’s house now that his guests had gone, but all too often she found herself thinking about him. Whenever this happened, she drew a deep breath, scolded herself roundly and made a list of more jobs to do. Surely, it was as well her silly fantasies were destroyed before she had indulged in them too far!
Then, one day, a letter arrived from her sister in London.
My dear Kate,
I have heard a disturbing rumour that while in Brighton you have been seen out with the Earl of Rivington, who,as you surely know, is a notorious rake. Having discussed the matter with Edward, we feel duty-bound to come to Brighton to remind you that you are courting scandal. The twins are at present recovering from chickenpox, the poor darlings. But as soon as they are well, we shall pay you a visit.
From your affectionate sister, Monica.
Kate was stunned. Did Monica truly suspect that the Earl was out to seduce her? She began to laugh, because it really was rather funny—but then she stopped, because she was thinking:Oh, if only.
Dan felt oddly restless now that his outings with Miss Summerby were over. Though he was constantly invited to entertainments in the town, he declined at first, because he’d grown weary of the revelry indulged in by his now-departed guests. But as the days went by, he found time hanging heavy and was gradually drawn back in.
He was used to company. He didn’t like being on his own because that was when the ghosts of the past crept in, along with disquiet about what he was doing with his life. Also, he kept thinking of Kate Summerby. Why on earth had he told her about his mother? He’d never confided his feelings about her flight to anyone, certainly not to Cecily, and he was bewildered by the fact that he’d divulged his secret vulnerability to someone he might never see again.
Last night he’d surprised his friends by departing early from a gambling session at Raggett’s club, and the next morning, still thoroughly out of sorts, he decided to go out into the garden and demolish the hideous statue of Hercules that Cecily had begged for. It had irked him for some time, with those trinkets andribbons that dangled from it and the ribald comments that had been scrawled on the plinth. So at half past ten, clad in tough boots, buckskin breeches and a loose linen shirt, he marched up to it and began wielding his pickaxe.
It wasn’t long before the head footman, Giles, came out to ask a little warily, ‘My lord. Do you require any assistance?’
Dan wiped the sweat from his forehead. ‘No thanks. I’m enjoying myself.’
Rather to his surprise, he realised the statement was true. Yes, the statue of Hercules, quite brazen in its unclad masculinity, must go completely, He carried on, pausing only briefly to roll up his shirtsleeves, and was still labouring away when he realised he had a visitor.
Miss Kate Summerby had emerged from the woods and was heading for his house in an alarmingly purposeful manner. But when she saw him and what he was doing, she halted in astonishment. He put down his pickaxe and called, ‘Good morning. Are you out for a stroll?’
She wore a wide-brimmed straw sun hat and a loose-fitting, pastel-green frock. It was made of a delicate gauzy fabric, and when the sunlight shone through it, the whole effect was to show rather more of her delightfully feminine figure than she perhaps intended. She came closer, clearly wary.
‘That’s right—a stroll,’ she said. ‘And as I was passing close by, I thought… Lord Rivington, I know I’m intruding, but I truly must speak with you!’
She looked quite flustered and really very sweet. He felt warnings shooting through his body and his brain but said casually, leaning on the handle of his pickaxe, ‘I’m all yours. Fire away.’
‘Oh, it is rather silly!’ She hesitated. ‘But it’s also quite possibly disastrous.’
‘Let me guess. Harriet has set your kitchen on fire?’
She laughed. He loved to hear her laugh and see the way it lit up her face. ‘Nothing like that, my lord. But I am concerned, because, you see, I’ve had a letter from my sister, and she declares she intends to visit me very soon.’
‘Is she missing you?’
