Chapter Four #2
He wasn’t, but she’d played him for a fool all right.
The subject of Brighton had arisen last June after a long session of lovemaking in her pretty house in Brook Street shortly after they’d become engaged.
Cecily had been running her fingers through his hair when she said suddenly, ‘Dan. Have you ever visited Brighton? I’ve heard it’s divine, and the Prince Regent adores it, doesn’t he?
If we had a house there, just think—when I’m your Countess, we could spend every summer by the sea! ’
Dan had hesitated, not because of the money, for he could have afforded to buy up half of Brighton if he’d wished.
But then she’d given him one of her slow, languorous kisses, and damn it, he had agreed.
He had travelled there the following week to begin searching for somewhere suitable, but he’d almost given up until one sunny summer afternoon, he had ridden out of the town to where the fields and woodlands bordered the gentle hills of the South Downs.
He had expected to find nothing but the occasional farmhouse.
Instead, the track led him to a pretty half-timbered dwelling, where a middle-aged lady in a flowery smock and oversized sun hat was trimming a clematis that scrambled up a south-facing wall.
He had reined in his horse. ‘Good day to you, ma’am,’ he said, raising his hat. ‘You have a beautiful home.’
‘This is the best place on earth,’ she had answered cheerfully. ‘Would you care for some lemonade, sir?’
The invitation was unexpected but welcome.
They had sat in her garden, and she told him her name was Jemima Honeywood, explaining also that she had bought the house many years ago before Brighton became fashionable and that she also owned the land that surrounded it.
‘Six acres in all,’ she concluded. ‘Which is really far more than I can manage, much as I love it all.’
Dan had asked her then and there if she might be willing to sell some of it to him. ‘I was hoping to buy a house in the area,’ he’d told her. ‘But now I’m wondering if building one might be a better option.’
It had taken her some moments to reply, during which he’d noted that she was maybe not in the best of health. But at last, she replied, ‘You have come at an opportune time.’
‘I have?’
‘Indeed. I find that I’m not in quite as good a financial situation as I had hoped.
Some repairs to the house cost more than I expected, and now I fear my only way of paying the debt is to sell some of my land.
’ She had frowned. ‘I’ve had one offer already—but it’s my opinion that the man who made it is a downright crook. ’
‘I’m not a crook,’ he told her. ‘I’m actually the Earl of Rivington, and I would make sure that you were consulted in every stage of the building process.’
Dan could tell she hadn’t been overly impressed by his grand title, and he liked her the more for it. They negotiated a price, the land purchase was swiftly completed, the plans were drawn up and the foundations were dug for his new house.
Dan had delegated most of the work to his trusty steward, who stayed in Brighton to ensure that the construction was going to plan.
Only in the spring of this year did he spend time himself there, renting a house on the Old Steine so he could oversee the final stages.
That was when he realised that Jemima was dying.
He began to see her more regularly. Two or three times a week, her man Joseph would drive her into town, and Dan often took her for lunch at the Castle Inn before they strolled along Marine Parade, but the distances she could manage grew shorter and shorter.
‘I wish,’ she had said to him one afternoon when she had walked only a little way, ‘that I could have met the lady you are to marry. She is fortunate. Tell her that from me, will you?’
‘You might prefer to tell her that yourself when you meet her,’ Dan had said. But it was not to be, for Jemima had died within weeks and Dan’s marriage plans had come to an abrupt end.
Too often, the full memory came surging back of the afternoon two months ago when he had called on Cecily without prior notice. The footman who opened the door had looked perturbed to see him and muttered, ‘My lord, Lady Cecily is in her bedchamber resting. She must not be disturbed…’
For Dan, alarm bells were already ringing.
Ignoring the footman, he went upstairs to find she was in bed with a man and they were making vigorous love.
Repelled by the scene, Dan had left them to it, but Cecily had quickly followed and begged him for forgiveness.
She’d told him the man was a former friend, an army captain who was shortly returning to the war, and she’d wished to comfort him.
‘You call that comfort?’ answered Dan. His voice, like his heart, had been cold as iron. ‘We shall let it be known immediately that our betrothal is at an end.’
Dan had realised in that single moment that he had never truly loved her. His pride had taken a severe blow, certainly. But the more she had wept and pleaded, the more certain he was that his mind would never be changed.
Was he actually capable of love? He doubted it.
The chances of that had been severely diminished by the fact that his mother had abandoned her family and his father had become barely able to bear the sight of his two young sons.
Yes, Dan had felt betrayed by Cecily, but it was better now than later, and he was glad to be rid of her and to postpone the burden of marriage.
He was still burdened, though, with this house he’d never really wanted and was determined to sell it as soon as the Season was over.
But in the meantime, he was going to enjoy himself, and no way would he allow Jemima’s niece to interfere.
A cloud of gnats pursued him through the oak woods, and Dan used his hat to flap them away from poor Domino’s head.
His mood was dark and in no way was it improved when he rode into the courtyard of Clematis Villa and saw Joseph standing there, for Jemima’s manservant had always been suspicious of him and it looked as if nothing had changed.
‘My lord,’ said Joseph as Dan dismounted, ‘Miss Summerby is expecting you.’ After waiting while Dan looped his horse’s reins over a hook in the wall, Joseph silently led the way into the house and Dan followed.
He remembered the interior well enough, with its oak furniture that had likely been here since the first owners moved in over a hundred years ago, but he knew that Jemima had loved it dearly, and he was briefly wondering if her niece would feel the same way when Joseph halted and pointed to the parlour doorway.
‘You’ll find Miss Summerby in there,’ he said, adding afterwards, ‘my lord.’
So in Dan went.
This had been Jemima’s favourite room, snugly furnished with two sofas.
There was also a tall bookcase, and he spotted Miss Summerby standing on a footstool, reaching for a volume on the very top shelf.
It was clear that she hadn’t heard Dan enter, which meant he had time to assess her, and several things took him by surprise.
Firstly, she wasn’t dressed in brown this time but was wearing a plain long-sleeved dress in navy blue.
She probably thought it was demure, but in fact it clung to her slim waist and her nicely rounded behind rather invitingly.
Also, he could see that even though her fair hair had been pinned up on the crown of her head, quite a lot of it had escaped to trail around the nape of her neck, where it glinted gold and silver.
He cleared his throat. ‘Miss Summerby? I have arrived, as promised.’
She whirled round in surprise. She was wearing spectacles but they’d slipped halfway down her nose, and as she peered over them, she dropped the large book she was holding so it fell with a crash to the floor. ‘Botheration,’ he heard her say.
All in all, she looked decidedly unsteady up on that footstool, so he felt obliged to come over and help her down. ‘Lord Rivington,’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘You are late.’
He’d stepped back now, but he was very much aware of the delicate fragrance of her—lavender, he thought. ‘Am I? I don’t recollect specifying a time, and I certainly hadn’t forgotten. But a problem arose this morning that required my immediate attention.’
She was smoothing down her skirts and he could hear her muttering something about conceited, dandified men. He said, ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Summerby?’
‘Oh, nothing!’ She smiled at him, too brightly. ‘I was just indicating that I was a little startled by your attire. A red coat and a green necktie—goodness. Should I be honoured, my lord?’
‘Not in the least. The fact is that I have no fondness for funereal colours, either by day or by night.’
‘I see.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I wasn’t aware of your preference, I’m afraid, because last night you weren’t wearing very much at all, were you?’
Dan stared at her. He had to admit he was having to rethink his opinion of her, because as the sunlight fell upon her delicate features, she really did look quite pretty, and she certainly wasn’t afraid to speak up.
He’d realised that last night when she’d put Gascoyne in his place, and today she was aiming her darts at him.
When he didn’t answer, she removed her spectacles and said, ‘Well, my lord. Now that you are here, let us waste no more time.’
She was moving now to pick up the large book she’d dropped, but he reached it first. Guide To Property Law. Hmm. He gave her an icy smile. ‘So you’ve been doing a little research, Miss Summerby, have you?’