Too much, perhaps. This morning she had been awake since dawn, warning herself,you risk having your heart broken, Kate. You are lying when you tell yourself you won’t miss him when he returns to London.But then, a ray of early sunshine had crept through her curtains to fall on her aunt’s embroidered sampler hanging on the wall opposite her bed—just a small one, portraying a country cottage and the words,Find Where Your Heart Belongs.
She knew where her heart belonged. It belonged here at Clematis Villa, and her lovely aunt had realised it. All was not lost, she reminded herself, even when the summer was over and Dan went back to London.
But oh, how her heart skipped with joy when he arrived for her, driving an open chaise with a liveried groom perched on the back. She strove to calm her racing pulse as Dan came up the path to greet her, looking wonderfully disreputable in a long tan-coloured coat, matched in its extravagance only by his blue-and-gold-striped waistcoat and his loosely knotted blue necktie.
As Kate went out to meet him, his groom was holding the horses but was no doubt watching them both, just as Harriet would be. So Kate merely nodded as Dan murmured, ‘My congratulations, Miss Summerby, on your choice of attire. You look very charming and also very respectable.’
She had to release a smile. ‘My lord,’ she said, ‘thank you for the compliment, but I have to point out that you do not lookremotelyrespectable. Though I imagine you would be crushed if I said that you did.’
He grinned as he helped her to her seat, then he climbed up beside her and took the reins in his skilful hands. ‘I would be totally crushed,’ he agreed cheerfully, ‘since it’s my aim in life to shock. You understand me all too well.’
They still had to speak with care because of the groom riding at the back, but all of Kate’s senses were fired anew by his warm body so close to hers.Do not expect too much, she ordered herself sternly.Enjoy the day and leave with happy memories.
As soon as they joined the long queue of carriages arriving at the site, she realised that, indeed, the races drew enormous crowds. This setting high on Whitehawk Hill had glorious views, both of the Downs and of the sea to the south. The crowds of racegoers were already in high spirits after spending time at the nearby fair, and they were making eager last-minute bets as the horses and jockeys prepared for the first event.
‘Many people travel down from London for the races,’ Dan told her. ‘They make a holiday of it. There’s probably a crowd of a thousand or more here already, so stay close.’
He made that instruction easy for her by constantly keeping his hand on her arm so they didn’t get separated in the crowds. When the first race was about to begin, he led her to a slight hill where they could see it all. ‘I put a guinea on the chestnut gelding for you,’ he told her. He pointed. ‘Do you see it? The horse looks promising.’
‘Fast, you mean?’
‘Indeed, but it’s not just a matter of speed in these races. In fact, the winners are often the ones best able to handle the slopes and the bends of the course.’
Kate watched, fascinated both by the beautiful horses and by the jockeys in their bright colours. By the time the race reached the climax of the final uphill stretch, she was cheering and clapping with excitement, because the chestnut was drawing ahead.
‘It’s won!’ she cried out in sheer delight as it reached the finishing line. She stood on tiptoe to kiss Dan, flinging her arms around his neck. ‘My horse has won!’
He laughed and kissed her back, lifting her off her feet. But they both sprang apart at the sound of a sneering voice cutting through the air behind them.
‘Well, well,’ a man was saying. ‘It’s the Earl of Rivington. How entertaining, Dan, to see you on such good—can I say intimate?—terms with your new neighbour. You appear to have won the bet we made at your house. My congratulations.’
Dan let go of Kate and swung round to see his former guest Angus Gascoyne. He said, ‘Abet? What the devil are you talking about?’ Kate was standing very still at his side.
‘Surely you remember,’ Gascoyne said. ‘We each wagered fifty guineas on which of us could make the most surprising amorous conquest of the summer.’
The man had a sly smirk on his face that made Dan want to knock him down. But the worst thing of all was the way the memory came flooding back—the drunken night when Gascoyne had suggested they all stake money on that outrageous challenge. Every one of Dan’s guests had put in fifty guineas and, devil take it, so had he. As the implication of all this sank in, Dan knew that his barely formed hopes were about to come crashing to the ground.
‘That wager,’ he said harshly, ‘was made in a moment of madness. It has nothing at all to do with Miss Summerby.’
Gascoyne, damn him, was drawing nearer. ‘Are you trying to deny your victory? Good God, I saw the way the lady kissed you just now.’ He gave Kate an admiring glance. ‘I have to admit that I’m jealous. They say sexual intimacy makes a woman glow, and she really does look remarkably pretty—’
Dan floored him with a single punch to the chin. Gascoyne, clutching his bloodied nose, struggled to get up, and Dan waited till he was on his feet to say, ‘You bastard, Gascoyne. Say one more word and I’ll do the same again.’ Then he turned to speak to Kate—and found her gone.
He was aware instantly of a desperate sense of loss, but he saw her at last, heading for the gate that led from the racecourse to the road. Because she was limping a little, he caught up with her easily and took hold of her arm.
She tried to shake him away. She looked, he could see, utterly distraught. ‘Get your hands off me,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Leave me alone. Do not dare to touch me.’
‘Kate,’ he begged, ‘listen, please. That man back there is a scoundrel. I was a fool to invite him and those others to stay at my house, and I was heartily glad to see the back of them—’
She held up her hand for silence. ‘Just tell me.’ Her eyes were dark pools in the whiteness of her face. ‘Is his story of the wager true?’
Oh, dear God. He said, ‘It’s true, yes. All of us had been drinking and I have never thought about it since—in fact I’d totally forgotten. The wager had nothing at all to do with you, but I cannot deny that it took place.’
Two spots of red were burning in her cheeks now. ‘I presume this kind of cheap entertainment is normal between you and your male friends? Like collecting ladies’ garters or ribbons, to indicate how many women you have seduced?’ She held up one hand to ward off his reply. ‘I have something to tell you. You remember the Viscount’s son, who pretended to be my admirer?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘One night, Dan, at a party, that man led me outside, and like a fool, I let him kiss me. I was happy, I was thrilled—and then I realised that all his friends had gathered in the garden to watch. They clapped and cheered, because it was a wager, Dan. The Viscount’s son had made a bet with them that he could steal a kiss from the Season’s chief oddity, the girl who couldn’t dance. And he had won.’
