‘Bea,’ he said, ‘go back to the party, will you? Leave this to me.’
Bea sulkily hitched up the bodice of her gown to cover her breasts and returned to the others. Dan’s guests were playing another game they’d devised, where the men threw the women’s hair ribbons or garters high on to a larger than life-sized statue of Hercules for the women to clamber up and reclaim. They were all shrieking with laughter while the footmen scurried among them with trays of champagne, and Miss Honeywood’s niece looked dismayed by the whole scene. Especially, Dan guessed, by the sight of him in nothing but his soaking wet boots and breeches.
‘My aunt loved the peace of her land,’ she said at last. ‘The woods and the wildness of it. All this would have broken her heart.’
Dan was starting to feel angry. Who did she think she was, this odd nobody who had arrived out of the blue to castigate both him and his friends? He said, ‘Are you accusing me of lying about a perfectly legal transaction?’
Her hands, he noted, were clenched tightly now. ‘I still find it impossible, my lord, to accept that she could have sold her precious land to you. Especially as there is no wall or fence to mark a legal boundary!’
‘That’s because I’m awaiting a delivery of Portland stone. If you’ve the magical powers to conjure it up, I would build a wall immediately.’
‘If I had magical powers,’ she muttered, ‘I’d make the lot of you vanish into thin air—and that monstrosity of a house as well.’
He put his hands on his hips. ‘Too bad for you, then, that you haven’t those powers. I repeat—I did not cheat your aunt, and anyway, who are you to cast judgement?’
This woman had inherited Jemima Honeywood’s house, and yet she didn’t appear to know a thing about her aunt’s final years! He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. ‘I really have no wish to debate the matter further. All I can say is—this property is mine now, and you have no right to be here. I recommend that you leave.’
She was silent a moment. Then she said, quietly but steadily, ‘I am going nowhere, Lord Rivington, until you promise to show me proof of your legal right to this land.’
Damn. She was going to be trouble. She was also well-spoken and, heeding the old advice to know your enemy, he found himself inspecting her more closely.
What he saw surprised him rather, because she had dark-lashed, wide-set green eyes that sparked with defiance. Her hair was silvery-blonde and he guessed that with some attention to her awful clothing, she could actually be quite pretty. But it was clear she was one of those women who had no intention of attracting any man, least of all him.MissSummerby. He’d noted that. Perhaps she was bitter because she’d failed to find a husband.
He folded his arms across his bare chest, knowing it really was time he put his shirt back on. ‘So you are doubting my word,’ he said coolly. ‘Very well. I shall call on you tomorrow with the relevant legal documents. I take it you won’t have any pressing social engagements elsewhere?’
It was a sarcastic jibe, but she didn’t flinch. ‘I shall,’ she said, ‘be ready for your visit. Come, Harriet. It’s time for us to leave.’
She turned to go and with her first few steps he noticed that she walked with a slight limp. Had she perhaps injured herself recently? But he had no time to wonder further, because some of his guests had come to join him, led by Angus Gascoyne.
Gascoyne had arrived from London a week ago and had been drunk every night since. Now he was pointing at Miss Summerby’s departing figure and asking, ‘Who the devil is that prim miss, Dan? Bea told us she was cross with you, but maybe she and her friend just wanted to join in the fun.’ Gascoyne cupped his hands and called out, ‘Hey, don’t go! You can always come and try your luck with me, you know. I don’t like to see any lady feeling lonely!’
Dan saw Jemima’s niece halt and turn to face Gascoyne. ‘Oh,’ she said, widening her eyes. ‘An invitation! How sweet!’
Gascoyne looked taken aback. ‘Well, yes, you could call it that, I suppose.’
‘Yet I fear, sir, that I must refuse.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘You see, I believe you are very drunk. That must be the case—because otherwise, I think you would have noticed that the buttons of your breeches are undone.’
Gascoyne grabbed furiously at his crotch. ‘Eh? What?’
More people had gathered to listen, and there was laughter as Gascoyne’s face grew redder and redder. ‘They aren’t undone!’ he yelled at her. ‘You little cow, they aren’t!’
But already she and her companion were disappearing into the darkness of the woods, and Gascoyne was making a feeble effort at a laugh himself. ‘Well, Dan,’ he said. ‘You’d best get that boundary wall built soon, because I’d wager she’ll soon be back for another sneaky look at this house and its owner.’
For a moment Dan was silent. Then he said, ‘You’re beginning to bore me, Gascoyne.’
‘Ha! Put you in a bad mood, has she? Then come and join the rest of us, because there’s still plenty of time for fun!’
‘Perhaps in a while.’
Gascoyne shrugged and returned to the party, where several men were attempting to dance Scottish reels. But Dan went into the house and up to his bedchamber to pull on a dry shirt and change his breeches, guessing that his long-suffering valet, Hamley, would shudder with dismay when he saw the state of them. Then he went downstairs and found his brother just where he thought he would be—reading, in the library.
Oliver was three years younger than Dan. He had been in Wellington’s army, but two years ago he had taken a bullet through the shoulder at the Battle of Bussaco and infection had set in, leaving him with his left arm permanently in a sling. Since active service was no longer an option, he’d been offered a desk job with the War Office but Dan, sensing his brother’s low spirits at the prospect, had urged him to come to Brighton for the summer first. Oliver’s reaction had been to look pointedly at his black sling.
‘I’m not much use for anything except maybe to keep an eye on you, brother,’ he’d said.
Dan had grinned. ‘Really? That sounds pretty useful to me.’
So Oliver had agreed to come, and he got on surprisingly well with Dan’s friends, because they respected him as a war hero. But there were no wild revels for him. He dined with them all happily enough each evening but when the atmosphere started getting lively, he always headed off to the library with a glass of good port.
