High on his cheek bones, two crimson flags appeared. “I see. Perhaps another time, my lady.”
“Perhaps,” she murmured, vowing the opposite.
Six
Twenty of Five on the Clock
L
orelei was dressed for her outing with the earl of Kimpton a good ten minutes early. She smoothed her hands over the sheer muslin skirts of her yellow underdress. She hated admitting it, but she was nervous. Deep within her abdomen, fluttering ensued that refused to subside. She pulled on her gloves. She was just a country girl and she feared she was way in over her head. But if Aunt Isobel was determined to force Lorelei down this path, then it would be on Lorelei’s terms.
Tibbs tapped the open door, then stepped aside. “The Earl of Kimpton, my lady.”
“Lady Lorelei.” All tall, dark, and imposing, the earl strode across the room and took her gloved fingers, bowing over them, sending her insides into a chaotic tangle of knots. The fallen lock of rich brown hair over his forehead had her fingers twitching to smooth it back.
“How nice of you to accept my invitation for a drive.”
“Invitation is not quite the term I would employ for your note, my lord,” she said dryly.
His lips twitched. “No?”
“Edict. That is what I would call it.”
“I call it clever wording. I didn’t wish to take no for an answer.” He shrugged. “So I chose not to ask.”
“Very clever indeed,” she agreed. No use mentioning it wouldn’t have mattered when it came between Shufflebottom and him. Or Oxford, or Dorset, or Brockway, or Greenmont.
“Shall we go?” He surveyed the room, then frowned. “Where is your maid?”
Brandon stumbled in, tripping over an edge in the Aubusson rug. The boy had forgotten how to walk… and smile.
Lorelei moved behind Brandon and placed her hands on his shoulders and peered at the earl. “Lord Kimpton, I present my brother the Viscount Harlowe, Brandon Radcliff. Brandon, this is the Earl of Kimpton.”
“How do you do, Harlowe?”
Lorelei’s fingers tightened on her brother’s shoulders in a warning. “Sir.” He couldn’t quite hide his surliness.
With satisfaction, she noted the tightening of the earl’s lips. “Brandon will be accompanying us this afternoon, my lord.” She grinned at the earl. “He shall serve as my chaperone. I had promised him a jaunt to the park this morning and, alas, that did not pan out. Not with the slew of unending callers.”
Well. Wasn’t she the clever one? His little country debutante had teeth. Young Harlowe looked to be around thirteen or fourteen. Not the most congenial age for a young boy. How well he remembered.
“How are you finding Harrow?”
Brandon glanced over his shoulder to Lorelei.
“My brother is educated at home, my lord. He is a very talented artist,” she said.
The boy’s face turned scarlet, and she shook off his sister’s hold.
“I’m afraid I don’t know much about art,” Thorne said gently. The boy should be in school. He was titled, for God’s sake. What was she thinking, educating him at home? Was she the one tutoring him?
Again with the blinding smile. She wielded it like a weapon. “Shall we depart?”
“Of course,” Thorne said, going to the door. “After you.” He felt a little sorry for Harlowe. It must be difficult going up against the strong personality of Lorelei. He was reminded of something her aunt said the night before.You are full of fire and that will serve you well.That was certainly true.
Lorelei donned a spencer and preceded down the steps before him and her brother.
Harlowe’s first look at the sporty high perch phaeton with its large wheels and two matching bays, emitted a sharp surprised gasp and, for the first time, Thorne caught his enthusiasm. So, a regular chap after all.
