Moonlight and Mistletoe. Louise Allen
Hester poured the tea and wondered when her visitor was going to broach the reason for his call. Surely it was not purely social? ‘Is the countess with you, my lord?’ she enquired, passing the tea cup.
‘My mother died some months ago.’ Her eyes must have flickered over the dark blue long-tailed coat he wore, for he added, ‘She abhorred mourning, so after the first month we all left it off. I do not feel that wearing unrelieved black for months on end helps one remember the departed any more fondly.’
‘No, indeed,’ Hester agreed. ‘I myself—’ She broke off. This was one area she did not wish to explore.
‘You have suffered a recent loss too?’ His voice was sympathetic and she almost said more than she should.
‘Yes. I was a companion to an invalid for almost two years. The end was not unexpected.’ If that left the false impression that she had been the companion to an elderly lady, then so much the better.
‘It does not lessen the loss.’ He put down his cup and saucer and recrossed his long legs. ‘That was most refreshing. Miss Lattimer, I cannot pretend that this is a social call; I wish to discuss with you a matter of business.’
‘Business?’ Hester made no effort to hide her surprise.
‘Perhaps I should address myself to your man of affairs? If you would give me his direction, I will be happy to do so, although I feel this is a matter upon which he would immediately have to consult you in any case.’
‘Then perhaps you can broach the matter and I will refer you to him if necessary.’
‘Very well. Miss Lattimer, I wish to purchase your house.’
Chapter Three
‘You wish to purchase my house?’ Hester echoed blankly. ‘Which house?’
‘Why, this one.’ His lips quirked again. This time Hester felt no inclination to smile back. ‘Do you have another?’
‘No! And I have absolutely no intention of selling the Moon House. I have only just bought it myself and I have been resident in it but one night, my lord.’
‘I am aware of that, which is why I have called so close upon your arrival. I have no wish to disrupt your life, but you will not have had time to grow attached to the place and, as your heavy luggage has not yet arrived, I imagine you are far from settled.’ 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