Page 113 of The Pirate and the Pagan
Good God, in the eyes of the court it would look as if two men had conspired obscenely to swap a daughter for a wife, yet the Earl of Bristol sat there with a fatuous look on his face as if the world were unfolding as it should, when in reality it was hurtling toward destruction!
Ben Jonson’s masterpiece made little sense to Summer as she tapped her foot, impatiently waiting for intermission. The actors droned on until she wanted to scream, then mercifully the velvet curtains swung closed and the applause burst forth like thunder. Summer clapped her hands enthusiastically, glad that the damned thing was at least half over. As the occupants of the boxes mingled in the circular promenade where wine was served, George and Summer came face-to-face with Ruark and Georgie. Why in the name of heaven had she worn black? It turned her skin sallow and aged her unbelievably. Her coiffure, which had seemed elegant at the outset of the evening, now seemed hideous.
Digby’s daughter wore baby blue. Summer thought the clusters of blond ringlets bouncing upon her shoulders looked like disgusting sausages. “Oh, Daddy,” she said, bubbling, “I’m having a simply divine evening.” She glanced adoringly up at Ruark and said, “Lord Helford’s eyes match the emeralds you gave me for my birthday.”
“Really?” drawled Summer. “They always remind me of gooseberries floating in syrup.”
Ruark’s face was impassive, his manners impeccable, as he said, “Lady Georgina Digby, may I present Lady Summer St. Catherine.”
“Oh,” said Georgina, suddenly looking very sulky, then remembering her manners, she curtsied to the older woman.
Summer’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not quite a dowager yet, darling.”
“Daddy, Lord Helford has asked me to the Countess of Lauderdale’s party after the play. May I go, Daddy, please?” she begged prettily.
“It’s unlike you to play gadfly,” George remarked to Ruark.
Summer said sweetly, “It’s hard to be yourself when you’re trying to make a good impression.” The currents between Summer and Ruark flowed furiously, yet amazingly father and daughter seemed unaware.
The earl could deny his child nothing. “You may go to your party if you’re home at a respectable hour.”
Ruark’s eyes caught Summer’s as he said smoothly, “I’ll have her in bed before eleven.” Summer gasped in disbelief at the double entendre, but Helford had swept the girl off on his arm to enjoy the rest of the play. The girl hadn’t the vaguest notion that Lord Helford had ever been married. As he took her empty glass from her Georgie whispered to Ruark, “So that’s Summer St. Catherine. My father’s in love with her, you know, and I’m dreadfully afraid she’s got her hooks well into him.”
Ruark’s hands balled into fists. The empty wineglass was crushed into minute shards.
Georgie was aghast. “Oh, my lord, did you cut yourself?”
He shook his head and replied through his teeth, “Didn’t draw blood … though I might before I’m finished.”
Summer said to George, “I cannot approve your choice of escort, milord.”
“Helford? Why, he’s the most honorable fellow I know.”
“That damns your friends with faint praise indeed,” she said coolly, struggling in vain with the green-eyed monster who had her by the throat. “I wouldn’t trust him in a convent.”
George hugged her to him, his eyes laughing down into hers. “Your wicked wit is devastating. ’Tis one of the things about you which utterly fascinates me.”
The next day she lost no time paying a visit to Lil Richwood. Her aunt had an uncanny ability at picking up whispers before they became common gossip, and Summer bombarded her with questions about the Earl of Bristol’s daughter. “She’s obviously a sly little bitch who has her father wrapped about her little finger. He actually bought her emeralds, the other day … emeralds begod!”
“She’s his only heiress, darling, and she got a fortune when her mother died.”
“Well, you’d never know it by her clothes,” said Summer with a shudder. “She was as commonplace as mud. ’Fore God, she was in predictable baby blue.”
“She was in pastels because she’s not yet sixteen,” soothed Auntie Lil.
“For Christ’s sake, is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Stop it, Summer! Next you’ll be fancying he annulled the marriage so he could take another wife.”
“Is that what you’ve heard? Is that what you’re trying to keep from me?” demanded Summer.
Lil rolled her eyes heavenward, desperately seeking divine help. “’Tis as plain as a pikestaff that you’re still mad in love with him. If I can see it, it only stands to reason that he’s well aware of it. It’s beyond me why he doesn’t drag you by the scruff of the neck to Cornwall to make more babies.”
Summer burst into tears.
“What’s the matter now?” asked Lil, softening.
“Tomcats drag females by the scruff of the neck. That’s exactly what he is, a tomcat!”
