Harriet’s elation was only a little dampened. ‘I suppose so. But do you remember that first night we saw the Earl, and he was hardly wearing anything? My goodness, there was a sight for sore eyes, and—’
‘Harriet! Enough!’ Kate declared.
While she waited for the Earl, Kate sat in the parlour, pretending to study a book of household hints while Harriet peered out of the window to give her a minute-by-minute report.
‘No sign of him yet… Wait, I think I can hear something! No, it must be a farmer’s cart in the distance.’
Kate put the book down because not a single household hint was sinking in. Instead, she was remembering long-ago London parties when she always ended up sitting with the wallflowers, and when Harriet finally called out, ‘Kate! He is here!’ she took her time going to the door. She had resolved to be cool and calm—but all that changed, because when she saw the Earl standing there, her only thought was:Oh, my goodness.
He had on a charcoal-grey evening coat and cream waistcoat, and instead of his usual carelessly knotted necktie, he wore a perfectly arranged white cravat. His breeches and his glossy top boots were equally immaculate, and the slight disarray of his thick brown hair only added to his wicked allure.
Her heart was thumping.For heaven’s sake, be sensible,she warned herself. But whatever her brain ordered her to do, her body seemed determined to do exactly the opposite, especially as she could already detect the subtle but intoxicating scent of the cologne he was wearing, which was pine-fresh, like the woods on a summer’s evening.
He bowed his head. ‘I apologise for being late, Miss Summerby. You see, I was…’
Suddenly his voice trailed away.
He is dismayed,thought Kate,by my dress.She forced a bright smile and said, ‘I can tell, my lord, that you are surprised by my attire.’
He shook his head. ‘On the contrary. I am most pleasantly surprised.’ He took her hand and she revelled in the firm pressure of his fingers as he added, ‘Miss Summerby, I shall be most honoured to escort you to the party.’
Dan had to admit that he’d been almost shocked into silence when she appeared, because she looked amazing. The vivid green of that gown contrasted wonderfully with her creamy complexion, and its figure-hugging style showed him and everyone else that she was surprisingly curvaceous. It took just one glance at the partly revealed swell of her breasts for him to experience a warning tingle of desire.
But he quickly suppressed it, because he needed to keep himself firmly under control tonight. Maybe Miss Summerby had temporarily pushed aside her disapproval of his way of life, but there was no forgetting that they came from different backgrounds and lived by different rules. He waited while she slipped a fringed ivory shawl over her shoulders, then he escorted her to his carriage and sat in silence opposite her as they drew away from her house.
But he wanted to speak. He wanted to tell her all kinds of things. He wanted to tell her how moved he’d felt when she’d explained about the loss of her mother, shortly followed by her own awful illness. She’d endured it all, and the ordeal of her Season; she possessed true courage, which was not a quality he came across often in the women he knew, who were more likelyto plead helplessness. Even Cecily hadn’t been above shedding tears to get her way. But it was clear that Kate Summerby didn’t care what any man, including him, thought of her, so why had she dressed so well, and so unexpectedly?
She was looking out of the carriage window as if the view totally absorbed her, so he was able to assess her anew—not only her gown, but the way her hair was styled with those silver-gold locks piled to the crown of her head. He liked too the long cream gloves that revealed just a tantalising few inches of her upper arms, and he liked the delicate pearl ear-drops and necklace she wore. Everything added to her subtle but undeniable beauty and as for her eyes—how could he ever have thought her eyes merely ‘ordinary?’
The emerald green of her gown heightened their jewel-like quality, enhancing their colour and their sparkle. They could express disdain, as he knew from experience, but he’d also known them to betray vulnerability, like on the night of the fireworks party when he had appeared in her garden. And that same night, when she’d stumbled and he had steadied her, she had looked up at him almost as if she was waiting for his kiss—which he had been dangerously tempted to bestow.
Damn it, man. Pull yourself together.
He cleared his throat and said, ‘Miss Summerby. I’ve been thinking.’
She looked at him with wariness. ‘What about, my lord?’
Those eyes. Yes, they were wide and thick-lashed, glinting with gold now as well as green. Perfectly beautiful… He pressed on.
‘When we went to that recital—’oh, those ear-shredding singers‘—I had to ask you questions about what awaited me. On this occasion, if you wish to ask me anything about tonight, please do so.’
She hesitated then said, ‘I have been to parties, as I told you. During my Season.’
‘And they were not happy occasions, I gather?’
‘They were, I suppose, bearable. I even received the occasional offer. But then—well, something happened and I decided I’d had enough.’
‘Do you care to tell me about it?’
She met his gaze calmly, but he saw that her hands were now tightly clenched in her lap. ‘There was a Viscount’s son,’ she said. ‘He paid considerable attention to me, sitting by my side often during the dancing so I wasn’t alone. He was attractive and kind, or so I thought at the time. But then I realised he was only doing it to amuse himself and his friends. After that, I refused to attend any more of the Season’s events.’
‘I’m sorry. That must have been difficult.’
She smiled, but he could see the lingering hurt. ‘I coped,’ she answered.
Really? he thought.
For a moment all they could hear was the sound of the horses’ hooves and the carriage wheels rolling down the road. But then she said, ‘Dealing with Society must be far easier for men, I’ve often thought. You aren’t under the same pressure to be married. You have time and freedom to make your choices.’
