“He may not want to want you, but he most emphatically does want you.” Aunt Delia pursed her lips and studied her for several seconds, then what looked like satisfaction flashed in her eyes. “He’s kissed you.”

Fire scorched Victoria’s cheeks. Before she could reply, her aunt said briskly, “I can see quite clearly that he has. And that he knows how to kiss a woman.”

Bemused at this frank talk from her aunt, Victoria shook her head. “You’re not shocked? Scandalized?”

“My dear, I would be shocked to learn that he hadn’t. And frankly disappointed in him. ‘Twould be a shame for a man not to deliver on the promise hinted at by that devilish gleam in his eye.” But then her gaze turned searching. “And now your feminine curiosity has been awakened.”

Victoria bit her bottom lip and nodded, forcing back the image of a wet, naked Nathan from her mind. “Jolted wide-awake, I’m afraid.”

“Has he spoken of his feelings for you?”

“No.”

“As he strikes me as most forthright, ‘tis then clear he is as befuddled as you.”

“More likely because there are no feelings to speak of.”

Aunt Delia waved away the words with a flick of her wrist. “He finds himself enamored of a woman I’m certain is nothing like his usual sort.”

An image exploded in Victoria’s mind… of Nathan, naked, aroused, lowering his head to kiss a woman. A woman who wasn’t her. White-hot jealously speared through her.

A slow smile curved Aunt Delia’s lips. “That must vex him dreadfully. And the thought of you marrying another-that would not please him one bit.” Her smile disappeared and she fixed her gaze on Victoria. “The question is, what do you intend to do about this attraction? What is your plan?”

Plan? She had no plan. Her revenge scheme to give Nathan a kiss that would haunt him and then simply walk away now seemed ridiculously naive. Which left her, for the first time since she could remember, without a plan. She was simply a feather adrift on tempest-roiled seas, tossed about with abandon, no destination in sight.

Victoria cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I haven’t yet formed a plan. Indeed I’m… rather at a loss.”

Aunt Delia nodded thoughtfully. “Believe it or not, Victoria, I have found myself in circumstances precisely like this. And you are correct-the decisions you make now will affect the rest of your life. Therefore it is imperative you choose wisely.” She rose. “There is something I have in my bedchamber I must show you. I’ll return in a moment.”

She departed the room. Victoria hadn’t even begun to try to assimilate the stunning turn of this conversation, the unexpected things her aunt had said, when she returned, carrying a maroon satin satchel closed by a tasseled drawstring top.

“What is that?” Victoria asked as her aunt again sat on the edge of the bed.

In answer, her aunt loosened the drawstring ribbon and reached into the bag. She withdrew an ornate gold ring set with diamonds. “My wedding ring.”

Victoria recognized the piece but hadn’t seen it in years. “You don’t wear it anymore.”

“I removed it from my finger the day Geoffrey died, and I’ve never worn it since.”

Sympathy pulled at Victoria at her aunt’s flat tone. Uncle Geoffrey had been a dour, humorless man with a penchant for drinking and, according to rumor, brothels. Aunt Delia rarely mentioned him.

She looked at the ring resting in her aunt’s palm. She supposed some women might have liked it, given its obvious value, but it wasn’t at all to her own taste. “Why do you show it to me?”

“Because I want to explain to you what it represents to me. It is a contradictory symbol, embodying all that I thought I wanted and everything I came to deplore. When I look back, when I realize how utterly naive I was when I married Geoffrey…” She shook her head. “I knew nothing. Nothing of the world. And as it turned out, nothing of myself. I was innocent in every way, and when I agreed to a marriage I believed was in my best interest, I thought that my innocence would serve me well.”

She looked at Victoria, a wealth of experience and sadness in her blue eyes. “It did not serve me at all. When I now reflect upon my marriage, all I can think is, ‘If I knew then what I know now…’”

“What?” Victoria finally asked softly when the silence continued, broken only by the ticking of the mantel clock. She held her breath, afraid to say anything else, afraid she would break the mood, making her aunt reconsider sharing these deeply personal confidences.

Her aunt’s expression turned from bleak to fierce. “I would not have made the same choices, Victoria. I would have known to search my heart, my soul, to determine my true desires-not simply those which I just thought I wanted because my plans, my likes, had never been challenged. Then, once I’d determined what I truly wanted, what was truly important to me and my happiness, then I would have made my choices based on what I wanted. Not on what anyone else expected of me. Based on what would please me-not anyone else. And regardless of what battle I chose to wade into, I would have made certain I was well-armed and knew what to expect. Thomas Gray purported in his poetry that ‘ignorance is bliss,’ to which I can only say the man was a fool. As far as I am concerned, a lack of knowledge does not bring bliss-it is a breeding ground for disaster.” She handed the silk bag to Victoria. “I want you to have this.”

Puzzled and curious, Victoria reached into the bag and pulled out a slim book. She stared at it and went perfectly still. She wasn’t certain if she were more shocked that her aunt possessed the volume or that she had given the book to her. She traced unsteady fingers over the discreet gold lettering on the brown leather cover. A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment by Charles Brightmore.

“You know of it, of course,” Aunt Delia said. “Everyone does. It’s been the talk of London for months. And with good reason, as its provocative advice steps far beyond what anyone would consider proper. But it offers direction and information I dearly wish I’d had at my disposal as a young woman. It’s filled with information I want you to have, Victoria. That you need to have. So that you do not make the same mistakes I did. So that you have the knowledge to choose wisely. This trip to Cornwall has provided you with the chance to learn about yourself, far away from Society’s prying eyes. It is an opportunity I dearly wish I’d had, and one I refuse to do anything to deny you.”

Victoria tore her gaze away from the book to look up. Aunt Delia’s blue eyes were filled with love and concern. Now she understood why her aunt had not been more diligent in her chaperoning duties. Without a word, Victoria slipped the book into the silk bag and handed it back to her aunt.

“I cannot accept it.”

A blush stained Aunt Delia’s cheeks. “I’ve shocked you. I’m sorry. It’s just that-”

“Because I couldn’t possibly deprive you of your copy when I already have one of my own.” She cleared her throat. “A much read copy.”

Aunt Delia blinked, then quickly recovered her aplomb. She offered Victoria a gentle smile filled with such understanding, it brought a lump to Victoria’s throat. “Then have your adventure, darling. Live your life to the fullest. Do not allow your gender to determine your destiny. Rather, let Fate’s hand caress you. Leave something to Chance. Follow your heart and see where it leads. You will always have my unwavering support.” She pressed the silk bag containing the book to her chest and a look of determination came over her features. “Follow your heart,” she reiterated softly. “I intend to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I want my heart, my soul, to sing. I deserve the grand passion, the happiness I was denied as a young woman, and should I have the opportunity, I’ll not be denied again. You deserve that passion and happiness as well, my dear.”

Victoria could scarce believe what she was hearing. Surely Aunt Delia wasn’t suggesting that she… But it certainly seemed she was encouraging her to…

Take Nathan as a lover.

Whoosh. The mere idea speared fire through her that threatened to turn all her good intentions to ash. She hadn’t allowed the idea to take root in her mind for fear of it overwhelming her. But now the thought was firmly planted. And growing at an alarming rate.

A knock sounded, startling both of them. “Come in,” Victoria said.

The door opened to reveal Nathan. Victoria’s heart shifted into a different beat. Harder, faster. His gaze swept over her, intense, searching, stealing her breath. Dressed in black breeches, white shirt, and an ivory waistcoat, he looked strong and masculine. And utterly beautiful. A shock of dark hair she knew felt like silk tumbled over his forehead, something that might have looked boyish on another man, but nothing about the man crossing the room could be described as boyish.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said, his gaze taking in both of them. Then his attention focused solely on Victoria. “How are you feeling?”

Breathless. And it’s all your fault. “Much improved. Dinner was delicious.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I confess this isn’t strictly a social call-I’m here as your physician.”

Aunt Delia stood. “Shall I leave?”

“Not at all. Indeed your presence would serve as a distraction for my patient, who has expressed an aversion to doctors. Please, continue your conversation.”

Victoria’s gaze flew to her aunt’s, whose eyes gleamed with unmistakable deviltry and mirth.

“Very well. Now what was it we were discussing, Victoria?” She adopted a puzzled expression and tapped her chin. “Ah, yes. Books we’ve recently read. What was the title you were recommending to me?”

Victoria coughed to disguise the bark of shocked laughter that rose in her throat. Heavens, when had Aunt Delia turned into such a minx? Praying the heat she felt in her cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt, she said in a repressive tone, “Hamlet.”

Aunt Delia was all bafflement. “Are you certain? I thought you said-”

“Hamlet,” Victoria broke in hastily, torn between horror and hilarity. “Definitely Hamlet.”

Aunt Delia batted her eyes behind Nathan’s broad back. “And here I though it was A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

Nathan lifted one of Victoria’s hands and gently examined her scraped palm. “So that is what ladies chat about amongst themselves?” he asked in an amused voice. “Shakespeare?”

“Yes,” Victoria said quickly, before Aunt Delia could act upon the mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Nathan smiled. “And here I thought you talked about men.”

“Shakespeare was a man,” she said in an arid tone, valiantly trying to ignore the tingles of pleasure his touch invoked while he tilted up her chin to peer at her cut.

“I meant living, breathing men.”

“Oh, we talk about them, too,” Aunt Delia chimed in.

“Among other things,” Victoria said with a quelling look at her aunt.

“My father and I missed you ladies at dinner this evening,” Nathan said, lowering the counterpane then smoothing up her night rail just enough to look at her knees. His touch and demeanor were completely impersonal, but there was nothing impersonal about the heat the brush of his hands ignited on her skin.

“Your brother did not dine with you?” Victoria asked, appalled at how breathless she sounded.

“No. He traveled to Penzance earlier today and isn’t expected home until late.” He lowered her gown and covered her again with the sheet. Then he rose and smiled down at her. “Your bumps and cuts and scrapes are all looking fine. And you’re no longer pale.” His gaze touched her cheeks and a frown creased his brow. “In fact, you look rather flushed.” Reaching out, he laid his hand against her forehead. Good Lord, how to tell him that his touch would only serve to brighten her coloring?

“No fever,” he said with unmistakable relief, removing his hand.

“I feel fine. Truly. The ointment you used seemed to absorb the stinging.”

“Good. Still, you will experience some soreness tomorrow. But your warm bath will help that.” His gaze wandered across the room to the big brass tub that two footmen had set near the fireplace earlier. “I’ll arrange for the water to be sent up. And when you’re finished bathing, it’s into the bed for you. You need your rest.”

He turned toward Aunt Delia. “May I escort you downstairs, Lady Delia? My father is in the drawing room, hoping for a backgammon partner.” He leaned toward her and said in a stage whisper, “He does not like to play me because I always beat him.”