“They were chosen with you two delightful ladies in mind,” Rollo lied and swept a theatrical bow, making them giggle.“With your auburn hair, Miss Nancy, and your scarlet reticule, Miss Eliza, my navy complements you both to perfection.”
Eliza’s cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink.“And on a summery day such as this one, the shade of your cravat is also a joy to behold.”
“You a shine as radiantly as a second sun, sir,” added Nancy, rapidly fanning herself.
A faint groan sounded from Lord Lyndon’s direction.It was a miracle he’d held back this long.
Pretending he hadn’t heard, Rollo imparted his most charming smile on the sweet girls.“Then, with you and your sister in attendance, by my calculations, that brings the total number of suns up to four.”
Lord Lyndon muttered something incomprehensible under his breath.
Rollo stifled his amusement.“Yet still, we cannot compete with this feast Lord Lyndon has bestowed on us today.”
As the girls oohed and aahed, Rollo made a great performance of cooing his own admiration for their smart hats and pretty dresses.In truth, it was no hardship.If only his lordship would alight from his noble high horse, he’d discover it for himself.Both ladies were a credit to their father; the young beaux of thetonwould welcome them with open arms—literally and metaphorically.Rollo would be more than happy to facilitate introductions.
Thoroughly enjoying his lordship’s discomfiture, Rollo compounded it by unleashing his enthusiasm for an update on the vicar’s lumbago.Much improved, it transpired.Lavender oil, on this occasion, had not been required.
“Such marvellous news, is it not, Lord Lyndon?”
“Rivalling, if not surpassing, this morning’s headlines in the Norfolk Chronicle,” Lord Lyndon responded in a tone drier than the parched lawns outside the window.“I’m quite giddy from it.”
“Then that’s twice you’ve experienced giddiness in a matter of days,” said Rollo smoothly.“Perhaps it’s the heat.Although, if memory serves me well, when you came over faint in the nursery, it was far cooler, and you were already seated, if I recall.You—”
“Lunch,” Lord Lyndon declared.He marched over to the bell and gave it a furious jingle.“We need lunch.And something stronger than damned sherry.”
*
SEATED BETWEEN THEgirls and across from Lord Lyndon, Rollo batted his eyelashes in his host’s direction every time the poor man looked up.It was set to be the most entertaining luncheon he’d had in years.
“I’m famished,” Rollo declared, casting his gaze over the spread.At his shoulder, Greaves ladled steaming celery soup into his waiting bowl.“Cook has outdone herself again.Never have I been as well fed and watered as here at Goule.”He shot another mischievous glance at Lord Lyndon.“Why, only yesterday, as I sought to escape this stifling heat by climbing the stairs up to the old nursery, did I quench my thirst on the most divine—ouch!”
His left foot found itself suddenly squashed between the hard parquet floor and a heavy boot.
“I need an update on the building progress, Simpson,” barked Lord Lyndon so loudly the girls jumped.“If you would be so kind,” he corrected more quietly.
“Certainly, my lord.”Dabbing nervously at his mouth, Simpson launched into a complex, thorough, brick-by-brick account.Much of it flew straight over Rollo’s head.Although, with his host’s solid foot still grinding into his own, concentrating on anything except supping his consommé proved impossible.Thus, Rollo remained silent.As was the heavy foot’s intention.
Listening attentively, Lord Lyndon ate in silence, too, though his strong, furrowed brows spoke eloquently on his behalf.Every now and again, he glanced up at Rollo, his dark eyes ruffled with thunder and, unless Rollo was mistaken, a promise of something else.How Rollo wished they were dining alone!
And that he could offer himself up as dinner.
He let his thoughts drift.Whatwasthe correct etiquette after unexpectedly fellating one’s host?Should he follow his host’s example, grimly tearing at a heel of bread as if it were Rollo’s neck, whilst pretending absolutely nothing had passed between them?Or did one awkwardly join him and Simpson in a conversation about which he knew nothing, simply to remind his lordship of his existence?
Neither seemed satisfactory.Thankfully, at the end of the soup course, the dull discussion regarding building matters ran out of steam.Conversation lightened, and Eliza raised a rare glimmer of a smile from their host by expressing admiration for his lordship’s gardening prowess.He began a description of how he’d pruned the bushes along his southern border.Should Rollo join in?Or would the temptation of double entendre prove too much?The topic of gardening was rife with them.
Or should he stay silent and use the time wisely to devise a strategy to seduce his lordship again, if only to convince himself the damned thing had actually happened?
Lord Lyndon’s sensual mouth tilted in another half-smile at Simpson’s appreciation of the hydrangeas clambering up his northern wall.Apparently deeming it safe, he removed his foot from atop Rollo’s.
I’d like to clamber up his northern wall,thought Rollo.And his southern one.And also up his tree trunk legs and across his Herculean chest.
As he swallowed, Fitzsimmons’s broad Adam’s apple bobbed down to his impeccably tied charcoal cravat and then back up again.A desperate need to lean across the table and bite it assaulted Rollo, or at least nibble on it.He longed to mount the man’s lap, to chew on the curve of that full bottom lip, to lick the wine from his tongue and—
“Hydrangea colours are so very susceptible to changes in the soil composition, are they not, my lord?”enquired Miss Nancy shyly.
Lord Lyndon nodded, delivering his third half-smile of the meal, not that Rollo was counting.His heart fluttered happily.So beautiful.
“It is my understanding that the shades produced in the flowers are related to the acidity of the soil,” he explained.“In these parts, they naturally tend to blue, unless one meddles with the composition.”
