The Toplofty Lord Thorpe Read Free Page A

Lucy set out to ensnare the earl with her feminine charms. Alas, he seemed immune to discreet flirting overtop her fan or coy eyelash batting directed at him from across the room.
    Deciding that stronger measures were in order, she had then taken steps to call herself to his lordship’s notice. As those steps involved, for the most part,impetuous mad starts, harmless escapades, and one or two nearly risque exploits, it was not too much longer before Lord Thorpe (not to mention the rest of fashionable London) was aware of Lucy Gladwin.
    Society, always on the lookout for titillation, welcomed Lucy with open arms, and she was soon surrounded by a group of the more lively members of the ton, who thought her to be “a great gun.”
    Lord Thorpe, however, was not similarly impressed. Too late, Lucy discovered that her beloved was more than a little bit high in the instep and looked down upon people who, in his way of thinking, disgraced their lineage by their common behavior.
    Anyone would be excused for believing that Lucy, once she discovered the arrogance that lay behind her intended’s handsome face, would have washed her hands of the man and set out to discover a more suitable gentleman who would appreciate a woman like herself. But those foolish enough to consider such a possibility would likewise have been wise to refrain from laying odds on their supposition, for anyone choosing to put down his blunt on such an eventuality would soon be the poorer for his optimism, as Lucy was made of sterner stuff.
    Positive she could not have been mistaken in her judgment of Lord Thorpe, Lucy had, over the years, got it into her head that the man was merely a victim of his birth and upbringing. There was a good, sweet, caring man beneath that pompous, straitlaced exterior, and she wasn’t going to rest until the world atlarge (and Lord Thorpe in particular) was forced to acknowledge that fact.
    For over three years Lord Thorpe, armed with his indifferences, had avoided publicly owning to his awareness of Lucy’s none-too-subtle pursuit of his person. With his fiancée on his arm, he had chosen to pretend Lucy Gladwin did not really exist. His strategy had worked very well. Onlookers who at first snickered at Lucy’s antics were quickly silenced by Lord Thorpe’s chilling looks and sarcastic put-downs, and soon Lucy was regarded as nothing more than a darling, rather madcap eccentric, and Lord Thorpe’s name was no longer linked with hers.
    But her antics of the day before, warning him of yet another Season to be spent warding off her ridiculous bids for attention and overlooking her preposterous follies, had forced him to take action. Not for a moment (well, maybe for just a sublime second or two in time) did Lucy believe the earl was calling in Portman Square for any reason but to warn her off in that blood-chilling tone he employed to such advantage.
    Lucy, just now snuggling back down under her covers, an inane smile on her face, would not have been blamed for being frightened out of her wits at the prospect of Lord Thorpe’s bound-to-be-scathing diatribe. Indeed, most men, if faced with the fact that Lord Thorpe would be arriving at their domicile to verbally tear a strip off their hides, would have suddenly found pressing business in far-off Cumbria that required their immediate attention.
    But Lucy was not dreading the confrontation one little bit. As a matter of fact, now that she had decided on a course of action, she was looking forward to the meeting with every indication of eagerness.
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    A S L ORD T HORPE TOOLED his matched grays through the early-morning traffic in Mayfair, he rehearsed the speech he would soon be delivering to Miss Rachel Gladwin. Mentally adding a word here or erasing a too-severe phrase there, he wished yet again that Sir Hale Gladwin was in residence in Portman Square. After all, this was a conversation best handled between gentlemen—not that Sir Hale, that