Rook pinched his forehead. “I wish I hadn’t invited you.”
“Glad you did. I find Selina a delight. Rather…catty at times, but nice claws, if you know what I mean.”
With a rueful shake of his head, Rook laughed. “I wouldn’t have bothered pursuing her, if I’d known she fell into beds so easily.”
“Ah no, that’s my charm you are referring to,” Jack retorted smartly.
Sipping more of the sweet port, Rook settled deeper into the chair, listening to the murmur of male conversation.
“Must be costing you a pretty penny, all this. Why did Hestia make it nearly a week long? Far too protracted.” Jack observed, whilst quaffing some of Rook’s finest brandy.
“Don’t ask, no idea but I agree and don’t drink so much,” Rook lobbed back lazily.
“Hmm, what about this Clara girl, then? You can’t keep your eyes off her. Not like you, is it?” Jack harped on again.
Rook grimaced. He was going to kill Jack. Through gritted teeth he bit out, “She was distressed at dinner. I do not like to see my guests distressed, ’tis all. Now Jack, shut your bone box or go away.”
He heard grumbling and watched Jack stalk off, although he swore there was a mischievous grin on the man. He tried to focus his mind on the next woman to be investigated, but Clara Lockwood’s bloody face kept appearing – Jack’s fault for mentioning her.
Finishing off his port, Rook scowled and wondered whether it was too soon to join the ladies and continue his hunt.
ΦΦΦ
Conversing with Selina, Rook tried to stamp down his disappointment at not seeing Clara Lockwood in the drawing room. A few of the ladies had retired after the late night yesterday; she being one of them. He was feeling exceedingly exasperated at how she kept appearing in his mind – maybe a night with Selina would do the trick. However, he just couldn’t summon up the enthusiasm. A terrible thing for a man.
He reasoned that he didn’t feel passion for Clara – merely a normal concern for his guests – an almostbrotherlyconcern.
Talking of brotherly concern, he glanced over at Hestia. She looked utterly miserable tonight, and he noticed his brother-in-law chatting intently with a pretty blonde. What the hell was he playing at? He gave his excuses to Selina, and made his way to Nathan and his companion. They were talking about the cold winters – nothing scintillating there then.
He rubbed his hand over his face. He wanted to go to bed and dream of his masquerade woman. To dream about how she never stopped him in the garden, but asked for more…and more…
“Some damn fine stallions you have in those stables, Rookdean. Tell me, however did you manage to acquire them?” Lord Bewley interrupted.
Rook sipped more brandy; it was going to be a hell of a long evening.
ΦΦΦ
