‘But a man can hope—Hope.’
‘Oh, dear.’ She rewarded his playful comment with a saucy, exaggerated yawn. ‘Arrogant, deluded, incorrigible and yet so depressinglypredictabletoo. 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 blaming 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 readThe 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 ofdeliciousand 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 everythingallof 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 trustanyman 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?’
