‘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.
‘Indeed, my lord.’ Papa smiled approvingly. He had always had a healthy disregard for the aristocracy despite their patronage being his bread and butter. ‘I too prefer to judge a man on his merits. Yet another good reason for you to have upped sticks and deserted Mayfair. While there are several decent sorts residing there, like my son-in-law’s splendid family, there are twice as many again who think themselves a notch above everyone else with no substance behind that expectation, my lord.’
‘Back home, everyone calls me Luke, so I insist you do the same, sir, seeing as this is my home too now and we are neighbours.’
‘Then we insist on the same, Luke, don’t we, Roberta?’
Exactly as he had promised, his easy, self-effacing charm already had her parents eating out of his hand. Within minutes they all settled into the sort of polite conversation fresh acquaintances engaged in when they were on their best behaviour and keen to make a good impression. However, that only served to make Hope more uncharacteristically nervous than she already was. He clearly had no problem thinking of things to say—neither did the rest of her family—and he was effortlessly friendly and witty. Unfortunately, she seemed to have lost the power of speech and remained largely mute unless included in something specific and even then her usual powers of pithy observation and witty retort appeared to have deserted her. Fifteen minutes in, and Charity had plainly noticed her odd behaviour too and kept slipping her curious side glances which did nothing to alleviate the problem.
‘Our eldest, Faith, follows her father.’ Her mother was now waxing lyrical as she gave him a potted history of the family. ‘And is a supremely talented artist in her own right. The picture above the mantel is one of hers, painted when she was just fourteen.’
Luke stared at the seascape and smiled as he was supposed to. ‘If she was that good at fourteen, I shudder to think how brilliant her work is now.’
‘When you have a free afternoon, you must visit the Royal Academy as her magnificentSunset over Londonis currently the shining star of their summer exhibition.’ Both her mother and father beamed with pride. ‘Unless you saw her stunning tableau in the Earl and Countess of Writtle’s ballroom of course, as that is a triumph too and Faith’s first official commission.’ Her mother innocently sipped her tea and stared at him over the rim before her innate nosiness got the better of her. ‘You were there weren’t you, Luke? Only I am sure I saw you there...on the terrace...towards the end of the evening.’
She was so shameless. Hope willed herself invisible while focusing as hard as she could on the liquid in her cup.
‘If you are referring to the unfortunate debacle with the fountain, Roberta, and my infamous dip in it, then yes, I was there.’ His unoffended smile was all mischief. ‘Although to be honest with you, after causing such a frightful scene and leaving with my tail dripping between my legs, I have to admit I missed your daughter’s tableau. To be frank, as it was my first venture into high society, I spent most of the evening a little overawed with it all...until all that country mouse awe and wonder combined with the free-flowing champagne got the better of me. Especially after I stupidly mixed it with the fresh air I had wrongly assumed might clear my head.’
He managed to look both sincere, amused and apologetic at the same time, and so thoroughly and boyishly charming that her mother was instantly smitten by it all. ‘I had never been to an affair quite so grand before and we drink plain old ale instead of heady champagne in Tregally, soperhapsI did not make the best first impression upon society as I could have done. I beg of you not to judge me completely on the back of it.’
‘Nerves sometimes get the better of us all, Luke. Every single time I wait in the wings before I step on the stage, they positively swamp me.’
