Chapter Eight #2
A few days later, the Earl took Kate to the afternoon lecture about Oliver Cromwell.
‘My brother ordered me to tell him all about it afterwards,’ he told her in the carriage, ‘but I’m not too hot on history. Remind me of the basics as we travel, will you? Just in case I fall asleep again.’
Kate laughed. She coped well when he was light and humorous like this, because it felt almost as if they’d been friends for years. She did her best to outline that tragic era of English history, and in no time at all the Earl was leading her into the library’s already-crowded lecture theatre.
Once more heads turned, but now people not only smiled, they actually spoke to her. ‘Miss Summerby! How pleasant to see you again. We hope you are enjoying the pleasures of Brighton?’
‘Hypocrites,’ muttered the Earl as he guided her to her seat. ‘Believe me, Miss Summerby, I didn’t intend us to be harassed by sycophants.’
‘I suppose it’s only to be expected, my lord. After all, they are your admirers and that’s why you arranged these outings—to restore me to public favour. I am grateful.’
‘Are you?’ he said. ‘Really?’
During the lecture he looked distracted and once it was over and they had to pass those eager faces again, the Earl was polite but cool—until someone, a well-dressed man around his age, came up to him, thrust out his hand and said, ‘Rivington! We haven’t met for years. But I was at Eton with you, remember?’
To Kate’s great surprise, the Earl looked at the man’s outstretched hand and ignored it. ‘I remember you,’ he said, ‘extremely well.’ Then he walked on, leaving the man staring after him.
The Earl, keeping Kate firmly by his side, pressed on to the exit but his face was dark as thunder. As he helped her into his carriage and they moved off, he was silent for a few minutes until at last he said, ‘You know, privilege isn’t always a blessing. It can have its drawbacks.’
She waited. Once she might have quipped, ‘Indeed. It must be dreadful, being born to wealth and high rank,’ but this time she knew better, because of the bleakness in his eyes.
‘That man,’ he said, ‘was at school with me, as he claimed, but he was no friend. Shall I tell you why?’
She said quietly, ‘Please do.’
And she listened, as he told her how his mother had fled the family home with her lover long ago.
He explained very briefly how he and Oliver were returned to their boarding school to face gossip and bullying because of the scandal, and Kate found herself gripping the edge of her seat—not because the road was rough, but because she was shocked by his impassiveness as he related the story.
She said at last, ‘How old were you when all this happened?’
‘Old enough to look after myself,’ he said. ‘I was nine, but my brother was only six.’
What? Old enough to face such a situation at only nine years old? Aloud she said, ‘Did your father not realise how much of an ordeal this must have been for you?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. After our mother’s flight, he distanced himself totally from us, probably because we reminded him too much of her.
That man who spoke to me back there was one of the pupils in a higher year who took great delight in tormenting us, especially Oliver.
But the bullying didn’t go on for long because I fought back, you see. ’
‘Even against the older ones like him?’
‘Even against the older ones. Fortunately, I’d had some basic tuition in boxing.’
For a moment Kate was silent. Overcome. At last, she said, ‘I am very sorry to hear this. Is your mother still alive?’
‘I have absolutely no idea. My father made sure that her name was never spoken again in our household.’
‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said softly, ‘for telling me this.’
‘You were bound to hear about it anyway, sooner or later.’ He waved a hand of dismissal then said, ‘Do you care to tell me about your family, Miss Summerby?’
She chose her words carefully. ‘Compared to you, in many ways I was lucky. My father and mother married for love and my childhood was a happy one, but my mother sadly died when I was sixteen and I fell ill the following year. Fortunately, I recovered almost completely, except for my slight lameness.’ She tried to say it as if it didn’t matter.
‘So that meant no dancing for you?’
‘No dancing for me, since I would probably fall over and knock my partner over too! You will have noticed my clumsiness already. Can you imagine me in a crowded ballroom? The prospect is quite laughable!’
He wasn’t laughing. ‘That must have troubled you considerably, especially as your Season drew near.’
‘Oh, I tried to resist my debut for as long as possible. But my father and older sister insisted, so at the age of twenty I gave in and was not a success, which was no surprise to me. But I’ve moved on, and I am perfectly happy to live now as an independent woman.’
He was looking at her again in that unsettling way of his. ‘Didn’t any of the men you met realise you are actually very pretty?’
Oh, this man. The things he said to her that shook her wayward heart. ‘Not in the least!’ she said lightly. ‘I could not compete with the Season’s beauties, so I’m afraid I developed certain strategies to deflect careless comments about my failure as a debutante.’
He was nodding. ‘Like the way you dealt with Gascoyne when you arrived at my party that first night.’
‘Telling him his breeches were unbuttoned? Yes, that kind of response works well, I’ve found. I’ve had a fair bit of experience of men like him.’
‘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.