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First of all they went down the lane which led from practically their front door to the harbour. When they reached the harbour wall, Lord Rawcliffe surprised Clare by placing his hands round her waist and swinging her on to its roughened lip, which was broad enough to stand on.
‘You will get a better view from up here,’ he said prosaically as he climbed up beside her. And, while she wrestled to conceal the way his touch had made her pulse flutter, she noted that what he’d said was true. From this vantage point she did have a splendid view of the many boats moored beneath them, as well as a small, pebbled beach which featured a few large rocks draped with seaweed.
‘I believe,’ said Lord Rawcliffe, whipping out a handkerchief and pressing it to his nose, ‘that fishing boats, and all that appertains to them, are more agreeable from a distance.’
Clare giggled. And reached over to squeeze his free arm. Nothing was going to dim her pleasure in this experience, certainly not her husband’s fastidious manners.
He stiffened. Looked down at her with an inscrutable expression on his face. After a moment or two of studying her, appearing perplexed by her good humour in the face of his own displeasure, he leapt down from the wall and held out his hand to her. ‘Come,’ he said, inviting her to scramble down to the road. ‘Let us walk up the hill and explore the rest of the hamlet. I believe that the air up there will be less malodorous, since there appears to be a land breeze.’
‘Very well,’ she said, smiling up at him. ‘Though it looks as though it’s a bit more than a hamlet to me.’
‘It was merely a fishing village until quite recently,’ he said, turning his back on the picturesque little harbour, ‘when the craze for sea bathing, and exploring scenic, wild parts of the countryside, gripped the minds of those with money to spend.’
It was proving far harder to climb back up the hill in the direction of their lodgings than it had been to go down. Yet her husband was managing to carry on talking as though he was just out for an afternoon stroll. He must be incredibly strong. Well, she knew he was, since she’d had the privilege of running her hands all over his muscular body on several occasions. ‘I am told,’ he continued in a dry tone that showed he was completely oblivious to the direction of her thoughts, ‘that the place now boasts an inn with pretensions to being a hotel, in that it has an assembly room, library, reading room and what-have-you.’
‘An assembly room? Does that mean there might be balls? Or,’ she hastily added, in case he thought she was becoming flighty, ‘or concerts?’
‘In what they consider their high season, yes to both,’ he said with a grimace of distaste. ‘Fortunately for us,’ he said as he turned into a street which ran parallel to the coast, rather than continuing any farther up the hill, ‘that season does not commence until July.’
‘Oh.’ Not for another week or so. She darted him a glance. He’d got that cold, forbidding expression on his face again. And was ignoring everyone who happened to be in what appeared to be the main street. Plenty of whom, she suddenly noticed, were openly staring at them. She’d been able to understand the townsfolk’s curiosity when their cavalcade had driven through this same street earlier, but it seemed rather rude of them to stare now that they were on foot.
‘You’d think they’d never seen holiday makers before, from the way they are gawking at us,’ she said.
He gave her a bitter smile. ‘This, my dear, is what it is like to be a peer of the realm in an out-of-the-way place such as this. We are providing entertainment for the rustics who are normally starved of the sight of anyone more interesting.’
She blushed as one of the rustics, who happened to be passing, clearly heard what he was saying and scowled. Not that her husband was making any attempt to keep his voice down.
‘I am sure there are plenty of interesting people who visit such a beautiful town,’ she said, in an effort to counteract his insult by praising the town, ‘especially in high season. Why, I’m sure it must be extremely popular.’
‘Only with people from the merchant classes,’ he said witheringly. ‘Or so I am reliably informed. This is not, by any means, a fashionable resort.’
