He sat back more comfortably into the chair, his hands clasped, a picture of ease.
Hester was beginning to move from bemusement to anger. He was keeping a close eye upon her movements indeed! ‘I am firmly attached to this house, my lord, which is why I bought it.’
‘I agree it is a very pretty place,’ he acknowledged sympathetically. ‘You show admirable taste in selecting it, Miss Lattimer.’ Hester narrowed her eyes, she was not going to be charmed, patronised or cozened out of the Moon House, it was ridiculous for him to try. ‘I will put another house at your disposal until you have decided where you want to live. I have houses in London—’
‘I have just moved from London.’
‘Or Oxford, if you prefer another town. Or I am sure my agents can find you a country home you would be charmed with.’
‘But I am already charmed with this one, my lord. I have no need, no desire and absolutely no intention of moving from it.’ Hester took a reviving sip of tea and set her cup down with emphasis. Why did she feel Guy Westrope would quite happily take root here in her drawing room and persist until she gave in out of sheer weariness? The flame of attraction she had felt for him was rapidly becoming quenched under a douche of puzzlement and irritation. And he was so uncompromisingly large and male it was very difficult to ignore him.
‘I will naturally pay you well in excess of your purchase price to compensate for the inconvenience, and my agents will undertake all the arrangements for you.’
Lord Buckland was regarding her calmly as though he had not the slightest doubt that she would eventually agree with whatever he wanted. Presumably if one was a wealthy, titled, personable aristocrat with one’s fair share of self-esteem, one normally experienced little difficulty in obtaining what one desired. It was time he learned this was not an inevitable state of affairs.
‘My lord, I have said no, and no I mean.’ That appeared to make no impression. ‘Why do you want the Moon House so badly?’ she asked abruptly and was rewarded by a sudden flash of emotion in those blue eyes. Ah, so he was not as unreadable as perhaps he liked to think.
‘I am not at liberty to say, Miss Lattimer. Might I ask why you are so attached to a house you scarcely know?’
‘I am perfectly at liberty to tell you that, my lord,’ Hester said, matching her cool tones to his. ‘But I have absolutely no intention of doing so.’
His expression this time was of amusement and, she thought, a grudging respect. ‘Touché. I shall just have to see if I can change your mind, Miss Lattimer. Doubtless some of the inconveniences of the house will become apparent over the next few days as the first charm wears off. All old houses have their…peculiarities.’
A little shiver went through Hester. The dressing room— could that be described as a peculiarity? To hide her sudden apprehension she continued to attack. ‘And meanwhile you intend to camp out in that hideous barracks of a house opposite while you attempt to wear me down?’
‘How do you know that is not a favourite family home?’ he enquired, steepling his fingers and regarding her over the top of them. Hester could not help but admire their length and the restrained taste of the heavy gold signet that was their only adornment.
‘Because I looked at your card and then I checked the Peerage,’ she retorted tartly, dragging her eyes away from his hands.
He nodded in acknowledgement of her hit. ‘Most wise of you, Miss Lattimer. But my hideous barracks has one great advantage.’
‘And what might that be?’
‘The view is so much better from my windows than from yours.’ He got to his feet with the natural elegance of a very fit man. ‘Thank you for the tea, ma’am. It was a pleasure meeting you.’
Exasperating man. How could she ever have thought him attractive?
Hester rose and reached out to tug the bell pull sharply. It resisted, then the whole thing came away in her hands, showering her with a light dusting of plaster and dead flies. Prudy gave a cry of alarm. Hester stood stock still, clutching the fraying rope and trying to resist the temptation to swipe at the dust covering her gown. It would be undignified and would most certainly make marks. Possibly the floor would open up and swallow her, but she doubted anything so helpful would occur.
The earl stepped forward, an immaculate white handkerchief in his hand. ‘Please allow me, Miss Lattimer, you have plaster dust on your lashes. It will be most painful if it goes in your eye.’
It appeared that nothing was going to stop him. With a noise like an cross kitten Hester closed her eyes and let him flick the fragments away. She opened her eyes again cautiously, only to find him still standing close in front of her.
‘Did you know your eyes change colour when you are angry?’ he asked conversationally. ‘It must be those gold flecks.’
Taken aback, Hester spoke without thinking. ‘They also change when I am happy.’
‘I am sure they reflect your every emotion,’ his lordship rejoined. ‘A fascinating phenomenon; I must watch out for it. Closely.’
A series of possible retorts ran through Hester’s brain, each one censored by good manners. She was going to hang on to the character of a gentlewoman if it killed her. ‘I am sure you would rapidly become bored, my lord. I imagine I have exhibited my full range of emotions this afternoon.’
‘Do you think so, Miss Lattimer?’ He regarded her quizzically. ‘I so very much hope you are wrong. Good afternoon. Miss Prudhome, ma’am.’
Jethro must have been standing with an ear to the door, listening for approaching footsteps, for he whisked it open before the earl reached it. ‘Your hat, my lord.’
The door closed and Hester plumped down in the chair, the unwise force raising a cloud of dust. ‘Infuriating man!’
‘Oh, Hester!’ Prudy hurried over and looked nervously from Hester’s stormy face to the white-spotted gown. ‘Shall I fetch the clothes brush?’ She hesitated. ‘Was the earl flirting with you?’
‘Yes, do please call Susan to fetch the clothes brush, but wait until his lordship has gone. And I am not sure what he was doing other than trying to throw me off balance so that I sell him this house. If he thinks he can do it by flirting, then he is in for a big surprise.’
‘Well, I do declare!’ Susan bustled in unsummoned as the sound of the front door closing reached them. ‘Look at the state of you, Miss Hester.’
‘Oh dear, oh dear!’ Miss Prudhome was staring at Hester aghast, her pince-nez crooked. ‘He was flirting with you and I should have stopped him, hinted him away. My first duty as a chaperon and I have failed!’
‘The nerve of the man! And him an earl too—is he one of those London rakes they talk about, Miss Hester?’
‘Probably,’ Hester said vaguely. ‘Fetch me the clothes brush, please, Susan. Prudy, do sit down and compose yourself, no harm has been done.’
The maid hastened out, leaving Hester regarding her own clasped hands. Slowly she raised them, bent at the wrists in a gesture to push away an unseen figure. He had been so close. Her palms tingled as though from the imagined friction of superfine cloth against skin.
Hester
