“It appears we are the only early risers,” Nathan said. He nodded toward the sideboard lined with silver warming trays. “Please help yourself. Do you prefer coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please.” The instant the words left her mouth, a young footman jumped into action to serve her beverage. After filling her plate with eggs, thinly sliced ham, and a flaky muffin the mere looks of which set her mouth to watering, she sat down opposite Nathan.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, raising his china cup to his lips.

“Very well,” she lied. She’d spent a miserable night tossing, fretting, alternately wondering if he was searching for the jewels without her and vividly recalling the taste of his kiss, the feel of his hard body pressed against her, wrapped around her. In desperation she’d retrieved the Ladies’ Guide from her portmanteau, but reading the sexually explicit book had done nothing to calm her. Indeed, the sensual words had only served to further fuel her already heated imagination. “Did you sleep well?”

“No.”

“Oh? Why not?” Skulking about in the woods looking for jewels, were you, Lord of the Spies?

“Do you really want to know, Victoria?”

Something about that silkily asked question and the steady gaze he’d pinned her with tingled a warning along her nerve endings. Pulling off a bit of biscuit, she raised her chin. “Yes, I do.”

He nodded at the footman, dismissing the young man. After the door closed behind him, Nathan leaned forward on his forearms, cradling his delicate china cup between his large palms. “I didn’t sleep well last night because my mind was too crowded.”

“So you were here? In the house?”

“Of course. Where else would I-” His words chopped off and he leaned back. “I see. You thought I was out skulking in the woods, looking for the jewels without you.”

His words so precisely mirrored her thoughts, a guilty flush heated her face. “Isn’t skulking about in the woods what spies do best?”

“I can’t deny it’s something I’m good at, but it’s not what I do best.”

“And what do you do best?”

His gaze dipped to her mouth, then he shot her a mischievous grin. “Ah, an interesting question if I’ve ever heard one. Are you certain you want to know the answer, Victoria?”

Heat whooshed through her and her toes curled inside her shoes. God help her, yes, she wanted to know. Desperately. Especially since that gleam in his eyes made it clear the answer was something that would leave her breathless. But it wouldn’t do to let him know that. Indeed, clearly the best way to deal with him was to play his game. Looking directly into his eyes, she asked softly, “Are you offering to tell me, Nathan?”

“Do you always answer a question with a question?”

“Do you?”

He laughed. “Sometimes. Usually when I’m stalling for time. Is that what you’re doing?”

“Certainly not,” she replied with a sniff.

“As for what I do best, I’d be delighted to tell you. Even more delighted to provide you with a demonstration.”

Whoosh. Another wave of heat engulfed her. She attempted her most prim expression but wasn’t certain she succeeded, as it was difficult to appear prim while sensual images danced through her mind. “Here? In the dining room?”

“Certainly not the most traditional of locations, but if that is your wish, I’m willing to forgo convention.”

An unladylike snort escaped her. “You? Willing to forgo convention? Thank goodness I’m not prone to the vapors lest that statement would send me into a serious decline.”

He waved his hand in a magnanimous gesture. “Feel free to succumb. As I am a physician, I could immediately set you back to rights.”

“Immediately? So then doctoring is what you do best.”

A smile that could only be described as wicked curved his lips. “No. Doctoring is what I do when I’m not doing what I do best.”

Oh, my. Surely he didn’t mean… but, oh yes, based on that devilish grin, he clearly did. Despite the knowledge she’d gained from reading the Guide, she suddenly felt woefully unprepared to continue this conversation. In an effort to regain the upper hand, she adopted the chilly tone that never failed to put people in their place. “How delightful for you. Now, what is the plan for today?”

“Plan?”

“To locate the jewels.”

“I haven’t the vaguest idea.”

Victoria laid down her fork. “Haven’t the vaguest idea? After thinking about it all night long?”

“What makes you think that pondering the location of the jewels is what filled my thoughts last night?”

“Because it should have been. If I’d lain awake all night it most certainly would have been what I’d pondered.” Her conscience jumped up and shrieked with outrage. Liar! You were wide-awake, and maps and jewels were the last thing on your mind! She suddenly stilled. Was it possible that Nathan had suffered from the same sensual thoughts that had stolen her sleep? If so…

Whoosh. Good lord, it was hot in here. She barely refrained from fanning herself with her linen napkin.

“Then how unfortunate for our search plans that you slept so well,” Nathan said in a dust dry voice. “I did study the drawing and the letter further, but was unable to glean anything more. I also drew the grid map of the estate. I suggest we begin in the northeast corner and work from there. In the letter I sent off to your father yesterday explaining, in code, how you lost the note-”

“You mean how your goat ate the note.”

“-I requested that he send another drawing. Unfortunately, given the distances involved, by the time the note reaches him in London and a reply is returned, at least a fortnight will have passed. I’d hoped to have this matter settled by then.”

“So you can return to your home in-where is it again? Little Longstone?”

“Yes.” He tossed back the last of his coffee. “I’m certain you’re anxious for this matter to be settled as well so you can return to London. To your parties and shopping excursions and your suitors. So you can choose your husband and plan an extravagant wedding.”

“Yes, that’s what I want,” she said, a frown burrowing between her brows at the sudden hollow sensation in her stomach. She lifted her chin a notch. “You make it sound as if there is something wrong with that.”

“Not at all. If that’s what you want…” He shrugged.

Warmth crept up Victoria’s cheeks. How had he managed to make her feel so… shallow? Superficial? Every girl dreamed of fancy parties, shopping sprees, suitors, and her own wedding-didn’t she? Certainly all the girls she knew did.

Before she could inform him of that, however, he asked, “Tell me, did either my brother or Gordon question you last evening regarding your replication of the note?”

“Yes. Actually, they both did. After you departed.”

“The three of you were together?”

“No. Lord Alwyck asked me when we had a moment alone.”

His eyes narrowed. “And how did you happen to have a moment alone?”

Feeling much more in command of the conversation, Victoria enjoyed another bite of eggs before answering. “He gave me a tour of the music room.”

“Where was everyone else during this tour?”

“My aunt and your father were engaged in a game of backgammon. Your brother had stepped onto the terrace.”

“What did Gordon ask you?”

“How much of the wording of the note I’d been able to remember and how much you’d been able to decipher.”

“And your response?”

“As promised, I revealed nothing. I played the part of the forgetful, foolish, giggling female.”

“He believed you?”

“Without a doubt. Clearly he is accustomed to the forgetful, foolish, giggling sort.”

“And my brother? I take it you found yourself alone with him as well?”

“Briefly, yes. After we arrived back here, as we walked up to the house. I used the same ruse with him.”

“His reaction?”

Victoria considered for several seconds, then said, “He clearly believed me as well. But he also seemed rather… relieved. Of course, now both gentlemen think me a cabbage-headed nincompoop.”

“On the contrary, I’m certain they think you girlishly charming.”

“And a cabbage-headed nincompoop,” she muttered. “Did they question you?”

“Yes. I told them that as you were a forgetful, foolish, giggling female cabbage-headed nincompoop, any search would be delayed until I heard from your father.”

Deciding nothing she said would be pleasant, she applied her full attention to her breakfast. After generously slathering her biscuit with blueberry jam, she took a bite, chewed, then closed her eyes in rapture. “This is the most delicious jam I’ve ever tasted,” she proclaimed, “and that is high praise, as I consider myself something of a connoisseur.”

She ate in silence for a moment, then heard Nathan chuckle. “You have a sweet tooth and a hearty appetite, I see.”

Heat crept into her cheeks for forgetting herself. She normally breakfasted alone, as Father tended to sleep late and therefore she was accustomed to eating a large meal-something a proper lady wouldn’t do in front of a gentleman. “I’m afraid so.”

“No need to sound so sheepish. I wasn’t criticizing. Indeed, I find watching you eat very… stimulating. It inspires me to an idea.”

Her ham-laden fork paused halfway to her lips and she looked across the table at him. He was watching her with a speculative look in his eyes while he slowly tapped his lips with the tip of his forefinger. She wasn’t sure what idea she’d inspired in him, but the way his lips looked, so soft yet firm beneath his finger, was certainly inspiring her to an idea. Several in fact.

“What sort of idea?” she asked, inwardly cringing at how breathless she sounded.

“A picnic. I’ll arrange for Cook to prepare a meal we can bring along so we do not need to interrupt our search by returning to eat. How does that sound?”

An entire morning and afternoon spent exploring the countryside in search of a cache of stolen jewels with a man who made her insides simultaneously tingle and tremble? Who excited and frustrated and challenged her as no man ever had? It sounded exhilarating. Exciting. And oh, so very tempting. Her mind issued a cursory caution about being alone with him again, but her heart instantly silenced all objections. She’d wanted an opportunity to kiss him again-on her terms-and he’d just handed her the chance.

And based on her brief conversation with Aunt Delia last night before they’d retired, she needn’t worry about her aunt objecting to her riding alone with Nathan. Indeed, her aunt had encouraged her, saying, “Heavens, my dear, enjoy the lovely weather while you can. Just because I don’t care for riding doesn’t mean you should be deprived. Things are much less formal here than in London. Daylight rides in the country are perfectly respectable.”

“That sounds perfect… ly acceptable.”

“Excellent. I’ll make the arrangements with Cook while you change into your riding clothes. Then we’ll meet in, shall we say thirty minutes at the stables?”

“Fine.”

He touched his napkin to his mouth, then rose. After a bow, he quit the room and Victoria heaved a long, feminine sigh.

His breeches were indeed fawn. And they did indeed fit him very nicely.


Nathan sat on a wooden stool in the massive kitchen, munching on a still warm biscuit, and watched Cook pack items into the worn brown leather saddlebag he’d retrieved from his bedchamber. Memories of other times he’d sat in this exact spot, eating a treat fresh from the oven, stole over him. Growing up, the kitchen had been one of his favorite places in which to escape, not only because of the delicious treats he procured, but because of the thrill of the forbidden-neither he nor Colin were supposed to ever visit the kitchen. Most improper, his father had decreed. But as this was where all the treats were, neither he nor Colin had paid the slightest bit of attention to that dictate.

“Just like old times, eh, Dr. Nathan?” Cook said, a wide grin splitting her jolly features, her round cheeks rosy from the heat of the stove.

He smiled back. Her name was Gertrude, but for the twenty-five years she’d been in charge of Creston Manor’s kitchen, she’d simply been Cook.

“I was just thinking that very thing.” He inhaled deeply. “Mmmm. I believe this is the best smelling spot in all of England.”

There was no mistaking Cook’s pleasure at his remark.

“ ‘Course it is. And it’s ashamed ye should be for stayin’ away for so long. But now yer back and it’s a veritable feast I’ve prepared for you and your young lady.”

“She is not my young lady,” he said, ignoring the odd tingle those words induced. “She is merely a guest. Who likes to eat. A lot.”