She snorted, then laughed. It wasn’t the least bit false or delicate but it was genuine. ‘The decor of Lord Clacton’s mistress is not to your taste then?’ Curiosity then clearly got the better of her. ‘Is it really that bad?’
‘Come over...see it for yourself. On second thoughts, don’t you dare. I pride myself on my strong constitution, but the colours are so shocking they make my head spin. I need to have my mother over for a visit, but I daren’t invite her with it looking like this!’
‘My father could help.’
‘I thought he painted portraits, not walls.’
She giggled again and he found himself laughing too. It felt marvellous. ‘I meant he knows lots of reputable and reliable tradesmen and will happily advise you tomorrow at tea. That’s if he can get a word in edgewise, of course. My mother is beside herself with joy at the coup of being the first matron to take tea with the dissolute new Marquess of Thundersley.’ She said this unapologetically, those cat-like eyes dancing.
‘The newspapers only think I am dissolute because you pushed me in the fountain.’
She snorted at that. ‘They think you are dissolute because you were found in that fountain drunk. I accept no blame for that, sir.’ She had him there. ‘And be in no doubt, my mother only invited you to tea because she adores gossip and likes to be the first to have it so that she can spread it. You have quite the bad reputation, Lord Trouble, and her mission tomorrow will be to grill you until she confirms it and then we will all have to give you a wide berth while she warns the rest of the capital of your depravity.’
‘I guarantee she will adore me before the first cup is drunk. I am told I have a way with people, especially women, and I can be very charming. So charming it’s a wonder some woman hasn’t already snapped me up and rushed me down the aisle. And with my shiny new title, I am assured I am quite the catch.’ Because her eyes widened at his barefaced nerve, and because she was at her loveliest and most unguarded when vexed and flustered, he couldn’t resist flirting a bit simply to enjoy her reaction. ‘Admit it, Hope—you are more than a little bit tempted by me yourself.’
She didn’t disappoint, piercing him with a glare which was as cold and unrelenting as ice. ‘What an over-inflated opinion you have of yourself. But, alas, like me, my family will see right through you. The entire Brookes clan have a nose for ne’er-do-wells.’
‘Is that a challenge?’
‘It’s a fact, Lord Trouble, so gird your loins and prepare yourself for the Spanish Inquisition. My family are also loud, boisterous, interfering and not the least bit subtle about it. Which reminds me...’ She broke eye contact to stare down at her hands. ‘Thank you for not apprising them of our previous encounters. I flatly denied having anything to do with pushing you in that fountain when the papers linked me to the incident.’ Her teeth worried her plump bottom lip, making him wonder if the mere mention of the fountain made her recall their splendid kiss exactly as it had him. ‘It’s probably best not to mention these unchaperoned little chats across the balcony either. My mother, especially, can be very protective...and I am rather fond of this room.’
‘You have my word, as a man of honour, that they will be our secret.’ Because he certainly didn’t want them to stop. Not that he would have ever said anything to inadvertently malign her in the first place. He had been brought up to have the utmost respect for women and especially their fragile reputations. He had fiercely protected his mother’s for years.
‘Yes...’ She smiled a little shyly this time, giving him a glimpse of the real her beneath all the tart bravado. ‘That is probably best.’ Then, as if she was mortified she had shown him too much vulnerability, she licked her fingers and briskly snuffed out her candles, plunging them both into virtual darkness before she gathered up her papers and stood. The only light now was the weak glow from the solitary lamp he had lit behind him by his bed which, to his still wandering mind, only served to make things feel more intimate. ‘I might not be quite pious and prudish enough for a nunnery, but my mother certainly is and if she knew that...um...’
‘We had shared a splendid kiss on our first meeting, you were confronted by the sight of me naked on our second and we keep having these gloriously unchaperoned and improper visits on the balcony, she’d have an apoplexy?’
‘Precisely.’ He could hear her amusement at his cockiness. ‘And despite all that impropriety being entirely your fault, I’d be shipped off to that nunnery quicker than I could shove you in another pond for being so annoyingly smug about it all.’
‘Fear not, my lips are sealed.’
‘Thank you.’ She exhaled in relief as she backed a little further through the doors. ‘And tomorrow we shall behave as proper, polite and indifferent strangers and continue in that vein henceforth.’
‘While you have my solemn pledge that I will behave in public, I absolutely refuse to do so in private. I see no reason to add propriety into our relationship at this late stage of the game. Especially as I find myself thoroughly delighted by the impropriety of it all.’
‘You are incorrigible.’ And he could still hear her smiling.
‘That I am...but I suspect you already rather like that about me.’
‘I see, my poor misguided Lord Trouble, that you are arrogant and deluded too.’ Her affected huff lacked conviction. ‘As I can assure you I have found little to like so far.’
‘But a man can hope—Hope.’
‘Oh, dear.’ She rewarded his playful comment with a saucy, exaggerated yawn. ‘Arrogant, deluded, incorrigible and yet so depressingly predictable too. What a continued disappointment you are shaping up to be... Luke.’ Then in a sultry swish of petticoats, she was gone.
CHAPTER SIX
‘Dorothy Philpot said she and her parents chatted to him before he went for his infamous drunken swim in Lady Writtle’s pond, and they all found him perfectly amiable.’ Charity’s voice was nowhere near a whisper as the four of them awaited the arrival of their new neighbour in their drawing room at precisely one minute to three. ‘She also said that despite the beard, she also considered him to be one of the most sinfully handsome gentlemen she had ever seen. But then Dorothy Philpot finds any man with a pulse handsome and while Lord Thundersley has a strong face, I am not entirely sure what I feel about gentlemen with beards. What did you think of his beard, Hope?’
She most certainly would not admit that she suddenly liked beards a great deal. Especially dripping wet.
And the odd earring.
‘I think you should keep your voice down in case he hears.’ Her little sister was as subtle as a house brick thrown through a hothouse window.
Charity shrugged, unrepentant. ‘Well he’s not here yet is he? So I shall continue to speculate freely about our handsome new neighbour until he arrives and I can categorically form a solid opinion of him over tea. Though I can see why Colonel Wigstock confused him with a pirate.’ Purely to annoy her, her sister’s voice got even louder. ‘As he does look exceedingly wild and untamed with all that hair and exactly the sort you imagine grasping a helm in one hand and his rum ration in the other.’
‘Please do not even mention rum!’ Her mother shuddered. ‘Wild and untamed is bad enough but I pray he isn’t really a dissolute D-R-U-N-K-A-R-D as well. After all the scandalous shenanigans Lord Clacton’s bawdy mistress subjected us to, I had rather hoped to have a more sedate neighbour this time around.’
Hope lowered her voice to a whisper on the off chance it would encourage her unsubtle womenfolk to do the same. ‘As he was perfectly sober yesterday, I am not sure he is thoroughly dissolute, despite what the gossip columns have to say. You know how they exaggerate things.’
She felt honour bound to defend that slight because he was right. The only reason they had started to call him dissolute in the first place was because she had pushed him in the pond. And despite his tipsy state, he had instinctively protected her then by bla
ming his sudden urge to swim on the amount of alcohol he had consumed. ‘And none of us witnessed the incident to fairly judge.’
That had been rather noble of him even if he had been a tad drunk. As had playing along with her lie yesterday.
But that aside, she was coming to suspect he was more noble than dissolute as a matter of course. Dissolute men didn’t work for a living or want to redecorate rooms so that their mothers could visit. Nor did they read extensively. And if they did read, few had read The Monk, which was quite a weighty tome and which her bluestocking character approved of immensely.
Luke was, however, sinfully handsome.
Her sister and the flaky Dorothy Philpot had at least got that right. The mere sight of him in his well-fitting waistcoat and breeches last night had certainly set her pulse racing again. Largely because her vivid imagination still insisted on picturing him nude whenever they collided, and likely would the instant he arrived just to make her feel more unsettled. When her stupid heart was already beating nineteen to the dozen at the prospect of meeting him again in the first place. And for reasons she couldn’t explain, his calling felt significant, even though she knew it wasn’t and certainly did not want it to be. Then, to add insult to injury, her brain absolutely refused to forget that kiss. That had been the dictionary definition of delicious and the arrogant, eminently likeable wretch probably knew it.
‘I think we should reserve judgement until we know him better.’
Charity gaped at her, slack-jawed. ‘Are you suggesting Lord Thundersley might be decent? You? The eternal pessimist—who usually thinks the worst of everyone and everything all of the time?’
Hope’s heartbeat sped up a little more at being called out. Because she was usually an eternal and outspoken pessimist, especially when it involved men. Then it practically bounced out of her chest when they heard the door knocker. ‘I most certainly did not say that.’
Because she caught herself hissing, she affected one of her typical, cynical expressions as she continued to whisper in a more measured manner. ‘I merely cautioned believing the gossips columns, when we all know, more than most, how daft most of what they print actually is.’
That earned her another disbelieving look from Charity, which with hindsight Hope realised was deserved because she never openly gave any man the benefit of the doubt as a point of principle. They were all always guilty until proven innocent, which they rarely, if ever were. The one and only recent exception to that cast-iron rule had been Piers, Faith’s new husband, because he had only ever had eyes for Faith and had more than proved his mettle in the most gallant and endearing way possible. But then he was the exception rather than the rule as far as gentlemen were concerned and there likely wasn’t another one anywhere close to being as worthy as him within ten thousand miles. ‘As to your silly wittering on about Lord Thundersley being as handsome as sin, I would also remind you looks can be deceiving, and that easy charm and an attractive face can cover a multitude of character defects.’
‘I never said he was charming.’
In case her sister handed her a shovel to dig a bigger hole for herself, Hope glossed over that damning comment. ‘Regardless—despite my sensible advice warning you not to believe everything that you read in the papers, I still wouldn’t trust any man as far as I could throw him as a matter of course, and neither should you.’
With perfect timing, the housekeeper chose that exact moment to open the door and introduce him while Luke beamed behind her, practically filling up the frame and looking effortlessly, wildly gorgeous while he did so.
‘By the looks of this particular man, I doubt you could budge him, let alone throw him.’ Charity’s unsubtle stage whisper as her gaze boldly and appreciatively swept him up and down earned her a disapproving glare from her mother and a sharp jab in the ribs from Hope.
Typically, their father chose selective deafness and blindness as he always did when his family irked him. ‘My Lord Thundersley—what a delight it is to make your acquaintance.’ He rushed forward to pump Luke’s hand in greeting. ‘Welcome! I am Augustus Brookes and you have already met my wife Roberta and our two younger daughters. My eldest, Faith, is recently married and currently honeymooning in the West Country—your neck of the woods, my lord—and then they are to summer at one of his father’s properties in Bath. Hope and Charity are to join them there in August.’
‘It is a beautiful part of the country to be sure. I miss it dreadfully. I hope your daughter visits the castle of Tintagel and the coast thereabouts as that has the most stunning scenery.’ He smiled with obvious affection for the place. ‘Though I confess I am biased towards it as that is also my home.’ Then those dark eyes sought Hope’s. ‘The cliffs, especially, are a sight to see. If you are brave enough to risk visiting a cliff.’
‘I shall be sure to recommend them to Faith in my next letter. I am not sure if you are aware, but my eldest is also the new Viscountess Eastwood,’ said her mother preening, ‘and daughter-in-law to the Earl and Countess of Writtle. But listen to me gabbling on... Please—sit. The tea is already steeping and if we leave it much longer it will be stewed.’
‘You are too kind, Mrs Brookes.’ Then he turned towards the sofa. His easy, almost reassuring but innocuous smile as he glanced briefly Hope’s way instantly relaxed her. ‘And good day to you too, Miss Charity and Miss Hope.’
‘Good afternoon, my lord.’ Charity was using her breathy and seductive voice, and for some inexplicable reason that galled. ‘There is a space here next to me.’ She shuffled to the middle of the sofa next to Hope and patted the end cushion.
‘I think Lord Thundersley would prefer a bigger seat than being cramped up with you.’ Her mother gestured to the wingback closest to her while shooting quiet daggers at her wayward youngest. ‘Can I tempt you with some cake, my lord?’
‘As I have been dining on bread, cheese and toast these past two days, cake sounds divine.’
‘Why only toast, my lord?’ Charity gifted him her most attractive and beguilingly interested smile.
‘Because my new cook doesn’t arrive till the end of the month alongside the rest of the staff and toast is one of the only culinary delights in my limited repertoire. Although I do make a rather splendid cup of tea if I do say myself, so all is not lost.’
‘You are next door all alone!’ Her mother was appalled. ‘Oh, good heavens! You poor man.’
‘At the moment, I am barely there, so it’s no hardship and I rather like the peace.’
‘But what about the army of servants already in your Mayfair house?’ Her mother was as subtle as Charity. ‘Why have none of them accompanied you here?’
‘They were all so happily ensconced in Berkeley Square, it felt cruel to move them.’
‘Which obviously begs the question as to what made you swap that grand house for next door in the first place?’ Her sister was more shameless. ‘As charming as it is, Bedford Place is no match for Berkeley Square.’
His face clouded for a split second before he masked it with a lopsided smile. ‘That house felt too much like my brother’s.’
‘Yes... I suppose that must be difficult so soon after his passing.’ Her father paused as if choosing his next words carefully before he smiled a little too innocently, clearly also fishing for more. ‘And now that I have met you, I am not surprised you do not feel at home there.’ Papa had not been particularly taken with the former Marquess of Thundersley and had found painting the fellow’s portrait a huge chore because he had been so pompous and condescending. ‘You are not at all like your brother.’
‘I shall take that as a compliment, sir—even if it wasn’t intentionally meant as one.’ Clearly, there were no flies on the new Marquess. ‘And you are quite correct. I am nothing like him.’
Poor Papa instantly backtracked. ‘I meant no offence to you or him, my lord.’
‘And I took none, sir, I can assure you.
My brother and I are—were—as different as chalk and cheese and a veritable ocean flowed between us which neither of us made much effort to cross. I suppose that comes from having two very different mothers and vastly contrasting upbringings. I grew up with mine in a remote and ramshackle house in the countryside, a good ten miles west of the raucous excitement of sleepy Penzance and was left entirely to my own devices, while he grew up in that pristine mausoleum in Mayfair with my humourless father and all the responsibilities.’
Which threw up a million questions, none of which Hope could ask in front of her parents as they were all too personal and not at all suitable for supposed strangers.
‘To tell you the truth, that imposing house is too perfect and soulless for me and I am not really snooty Mayfair’s type, am I?’
Charity batted her lashes. ‘Thank goodness.’
If he noticed, Luke hid it well. ‘Besides, it is very much his widow’s home where I am sure I got under her feet, so I was glad to leave it and give us both some space to adjust to our new situation—even if it meant swapping it for my atrocious new puce parlour.’
‘Yes... I suppose it must have been difficult for both of you to adapt to such a sudden and unexpected change of circumstances.’ Her father had disliked the Marchioness of Thundersley considerably more than he had her pompous husband. He thought her an unpleasant and imperious woman. Largely because she had always blatantly given the cut direct to all three of his daughters at all the social functions where they unfortunately collided. Now, despite his smile and carefully chosen words, she got the distinct impression Luke disliked her intensely too. ‘Mayfair’s loss is Bloomsbury’s gain, my lord. You will find we are much more agreeable and less formal this side of Holborn anyway.’
‘Thank the lord, for I am not used to formality.’ His gaze briefly drifted back to hers. ‘In fact, I loathe it as it only serves as a way for our supposed betters to put decent people in their place, when to my mind respect is something which should always be earned rather than expected as a due.’ He couldn’t have said anything to win her low-born parents over more and both her mother and her father nodded their approval.
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