Gentlemen Prefer Mischief by Emily Greenwood Page B

reason.
    “Yes, I’d heard that Lily had some very good ointment used for hooves,” Roxham fibbed effortlessly. He would be good at fibbing, she thought, overlooking how much skirting of the truth she’d done since he’d returned to Mayfield. “I came to ask after a sample myself, hoping that might induce her to part with it.”
    Rob cocked his head at her. She smiled. In for a penny, in for a pound, but she couldn’t help but feel that she would pay in some way for all the moral lapses in which she was finding herself engaged. “We were just going to the stable to get it.”
    “I’ll join you,” Rob said, falling into step with Hal. Old Duffer . It was getting harder to remember to call him that in her mind, which kept whispering Hal . It was the familiarity, she told herself. He was familiar. But it was also the lying on his front the other night that was undermining her. And the mischief sparkling in his blue-green eyes.
    They found hoof ointment in the stable—fortunately, they did have some. It was in a large container, and she took it with the intention of putting some in a small jar from the kitchen and sending Hal on his way. But as they approached the manor, Rob obliviously invited their guest to tea. He accepted, shooting her a gloating look.
    Ian was already in the sitting room with Delia, and he jumped up when they came in and embraced his sister and shook hands with Hal.
    “Why, here we are, just like years ago when you used to come to tea all the time, Hal,” Ian said as they sat down. “Except Delia was little and had no conversation, and Lily always used to be scribbling in her journal.”
    Hal accepted a cup of tea from Delia. “I remember. Although I wouldn’t say that Delia had no conversation—she was doubtless preoccupied with more important things than what was being discussed by boring older gentlemen,” he said, winking at her. Lily was almost certain she heard her sister sigh in admiration.
    The battle of Oporto was discussed—Rob asked Hal for a firsthand account of the victory—but while Hal spoke highly of his men, he didn’t linger on the account but steered the conversation to crops and books.
    Delia, to Lily’s dismay, brought up the woods problem, of which their brothers knew nothing as yet, and said how people thought their sheep were possessed so Hal and Ivorwood were trying to capture the trespasser at night.
    Rob was, predictably, not amused. “Good Lord, how ridiculous.”
    “It is, of course,” Hal said, “but I wouldn’t want anything to do with my woods harming the Thistlethwaite shawl business.”
    Rob shot Lily a look. “That’s very good of you. I’m sorry you’ve been put to the trouble. Ian and I will take over now for you since we are the ones most affected.”
    “Sorry,” Hal said, “but I can’t allow it. For one thing, it’s also causing trouble at Mayfield—some artisans I hired to build a folly have run off in fear of the Fiend. I’ve wagered John that I’ll discover who the trespasser is, and I’m afraid the terms can’t be altered. I must be the one to catch him.”
    “I say, Hal,” Ian deposited an enormous spoon of clotted cream on his plate, “speaking of wagers, that was quite a match you won against Dorcot. Read about it in The Tattler . You made him look like a schoolboy.”
    Hal chuckled. “Well, he is only twenty-one or two.”
    Lily couldn’t resist saying, “That is a surprise that you did so well, you being so old.”
    Hal, along with her brothers, looked at her with a puzzled expression. Delia giggled.
    “Hal’s only two years older than me, Lily,” Rob said. “Hardly old.”
    “Well, you do keep in good form, Rob, with all that you do.” She let the implication that the viscount was in poor condition hang in the air, though it was preposterous, especially considering how well his blue waistcoat hung from his broad shoulders and hinted at the lithe, battle-tested muscles of his chest and abdomen. She made