God, he’d missed his brother. Hadn’t allowed himself to think about how much, but seeing Colin again brought it all roaring back. Those hints of the camaraderie they’d once shared made his chest ache with loss, but also gave him a ray of hope that this visit might, if nothing else, mend the rift with his family.

With a sigh, Nathan picked up another nail, set it in place, then hit it sharply with his hammer. The vibration radiated up his arm, and he repeated the action, while he speculated what the upcoming weeks might bring.

When he’d left the Crown’s employ under a dark cloud of suspicion and his reputation in tatters three years earlier, he’d vowed that nothing would entice him back into the fold-except the opportunity to clear his name. Yet when he made that vow, he hadn’t suspected that the opportunity would ever arise. He’d buried the past, built a new life in a new place, and existed in peace-a marked difference to the life he’d left behind. Yet now that the opportunity had arisen to possibly recover the jewels and restore his reputation, his feelings were more than a little ambivalent. Someone had once told him to be careful what he wished for as his wish might come true. He hadn’t truly grasped the meaning until now. To add to this sudden wrinkle in his peaceful existence was the fact that he’d have to see Lady Victoria again.

Well, his interaction with her would be minimal. Indeed, he had the entire scenario planned. He’d secure the information she carried with her, then, as soon as possible, send her back to London. He’d hopefully clear his name, then return to his peaceful cottage in Little Longstone and resume his calm existence. Yes, it was indeed an excellent plan.

Three

Today’s Modern Woman should at first exhibit an aloof manner toward the gentleman she wishes to ensnare. Men enjoy the hunt, the challenge of winning a lady’s favor. If he is interested, wild horses will not stop him from pursuing you. However, once he is firmly ensnared, it is no longer necessary or desirable to remain quite so aloof.


A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore


After finally finishing the animal pen, Nathan introduced his menagerie to their new, temporary home. He bestowed encouraging pats to Reginald’s solid girth, and was rewarded with snuffling oinks. Petunia gently butted his thigh, and he fed her a handful of her favorite flower. “Do not, under any circumstances, tell the gardener,” Nathan warned, running his palm over the goat’s pale brown coat. After making sure his friends were comfortable, Nathan shrugged into his shirt, then walked across the lawns toward Creston Manor. His arms and shoulders ached with fatigue, but it was a sensation he relished, as it kept his mind from wandering to areas he wished to avoid.

As he walked in the long, cool shadow of Creston Manor cast by the waning late afternoon sun, he heard the indistinct sound of a feminine voice. As he neared, he was able to make out the words.

“The roads were simply frightful due to the rains.”

Nathan paused near the corner of the house. Leaning his back against the brick facade, he swallowed a groan. Even though it had been three years since he’d heard it, there was no mistaking that voice.

Lady Victoria had arrived.

His heart performed the most ridiculous leap, and his brows snapped down in a frown. What the hell was wrong with him? Something, obviously. Perhaps a lack of sleep. Yes, that must be it. For there was no other explanation for such an idiotic reaction. He closed his eyes and thumped the back of his head twice against the stone-lightly, for as tempting as it was to render himself unconscious, there was no point in prolonging the inevitable. The sooner he found out what he needed to know from her, the sooner he could send her back to London.

He looked down and a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. Lady Victoria would no doubt swoon at the sight of his dirt-streaked breeches, damp, untucked shirt, and scuffed boots. He cheered considerably. All the better to encourage her to depart Cornwall as soon as possible. He supposed he should nip around to the back of the house and change clothes, but with Colin off and Father visiting the village, the duty of greeting the guests fell to him.

He pushed off from the wall and strode around the corner. A well-appointed coach painted glossy black and bearing the Earl of Wexhall’s family crest stood in the curved drive. A pair of wilted-looking female servants who were clearly the ladies’ maids waited beside a second carriage bearing more luggage. The heavily mud-splattered exteriors and wheels gave testament to the foul road conditions. Two sets of matching grays stood patiently while Langston and Mrs. Henshaw, Creston Manor’s butler and housekeeper, directed servants on the unloading of the trunks. As he approached, Nathan scanned the group.

A woman he recognized as Lord Wexhall’s sister Lady Delia was talking to Mrs. Henshaw. Dressed in a dark blue spencer over a cream muslin gown creased with travel wrinkles, and wearing a lace-trimmed bonnet, Lady Delia appeared exactly as Nathan remembered her from their last meeting three years earlier. Twenty years ago she would have been described as beautiful. Today the word still could apply, although her maturity lent itself more to “handsome.”

He continued forward, craning his neck, and caught sight of the back of a frilly, ivory bonnet, its wearer nearly hidden amongst the throng of hovering servants. At that moment Lady Delia stepped aside and Lady Victoria’s profile came into view. His footsteps slowed and he studied her.

Dressed in a pale pink muslin gown and a deep rose spencer, she stood in a swatch of bright golden sunlight, looking like a delicate spring flower. A brisk, sea-scented breeze courtesy of Mount’s Bay threatened to dislodge her bonnet. She reached up a cream lace-gloved hand to hold in place the ridiculous bit of frippery, which he supposed was the latest French fashion. In spite of her efforts, several dark curls escaped and blew across her cheek. He had the ridiculous thought that she resembled a Gainsborough portrait, captured in the breeze and sunshine, her features partially cast in shadow from her upraised arm and bonnet. All she needed to complete the image was a field of wildflowers. And perhaps a gamboling puppy. At that moment she turned and their eyes met.

His footsteps faltered, then stopped completely as he was hit by the same punched-in-the-gut sensation he’d experienced the first time he laid eyes on her three years ago. The breeze pressed her gown against her in a way that suggested the curvaceous, feminine form that had fit so perfectly against him would do so still. A golden shaft of sunlight highlighted her in a halo of brilliance that made her look like an angel, but he vividly recalled the deviltry that had danced in her smile.

Unmistakable recognition flashed in her eyes, followed by a flash of something else that he couldn’t fully decipher, but that erased any doubt that she recalled the passionate kiss they’d shared. Then her features wiped clean of all expression and her eyes filled with a cool indifference that crept his brows upward. Clearly he’d not made a favorable impression on Lady Victoria. He wasn’t certain if he found that more annoying or amusing.

Her gaze flicked over his clothing. Her lips pressed together and one of her brows inched upward with an eloquence that indicated she found his appearance about as appealing as something she would scrape off the bottom of her dainty shoe. Excellent. She’d been here less than two minutes and he’d already ruffled her feathers. He hated to be the only one thrown off balance.

Suppressing a smile, he moved forward. “Greetings, ladies,” he said as he joined the group. “Delighted to see you’ve arrived safely. Your journey was pleasant, I hope?”

Lady Delia raised an ornate quizzing glass and peered at him. “Dr. Oliver, a pleasure to see you again after all these years.”

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Delia,” he said, offering her a smile and a formal bow.

Her sharp-eyed gaze took in his disheveled appearance. “It appears some manner of catastrophe has befallen you.”

“Not at all. Merely the result of a project by the stables which proved rather dirty work. I was just returning to the house to make myself presentable for your arrival, but I fear it is too late.”

“By the stables?” Lady Delia’s eyes widened. “Were you there a quarter hour ago? Hammering something?”

“I was. If I’d known your arrival was so imminent-”

“Nonsense, dear boy. Wouldn’t want you abandoning your project on our account.” Lady Delia graced him with a dazzling smile, then said, “I’m not sure if you recall meeting my niece, Lady Victoria-”

“Of course I remember Lady Victoria. I pride myself on never forgetting a face.” Or a passionate kiss. He turned toward her and found himself the subject of Lady Victoria’s bland regard. Certainly not the warm reception he’d received the last time they met. Probably upon reflection she’d relegated him a cad for stealing that kiss and regretted not slapping his face. Well, fine. That would make their interactions even briefer.

He made her a formal bow, then rose to his full height. He recalled she was slightly taller than average, although the top of her head still only reached his shoulder. Now that he was closer, he noted her flawless complexion, which was stained with a becoming rosy hue. Indeed, she looked rather flushed. Probably very warm in the carriage. In spite of what he knew had to have been an arduous journey, she surprisingly showed no outward signs of fatigue. No, she appeared fresh and lovely. Prim, proper, coolly elegant, and altogether ladylike. Still, he didn’t doubt she’d suffer from the vapors like most ladies of her station and swoon about on every chaise Creston Manor had to offer at her first opportunity.

His gaze took in her eyes, noting their vivid blue shade, made all the more outstanding by the crescent of dark lashes surrounding them. The last time he’d seen those eyes they’d been drooped at half-mast and glazed with arousal. And then there was her mouth… so lush and full. Everything about her demeanor and dress was perfectly prim and proper, but there was nothing proper about those lips. He instantly recalled how delicious they’d tasted, how plush they’d felt beneath his. She’d grown even lovelier in the last three years. Except he no longer detected that glitter of mischief in her eyes, that impish curve to her lips, and he idly wondered what had brought about the change. Probably had wisely decided that kissing strangers in the gallery was not a good idea. Not that he cared. No indeed. He had his own problems to worry about. She’d all but knocked him on his arse once before-he wouldn’t give her opportunity to do it again. Give him a warm, sweet-natured, plain woman over a cool, nose-in-the-air hothouse beauty any day.

“How do you do, Lady Victoria?”

She lifted her chin and somehow managed, in spite of their height differences, to peer down her nose at him, as if she were a bloody princess and he the lowly hired help.

“Dr. Oliver.” Her gaze again flickered over his dirty attire and her nose twitched. Catching a pungent whiff of Reginald and Petunia no doubt. When their eyes met again, she said, “You are precisely as I recall.”

Surely he should have been insulted by her insinuation that when last they’d met he’d been dirty, unkempt, and smelled foul, but instead he found himself unexpectedly amused. “I’m honored that you remember me, my lady. Our meeting was… brief.”

She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like not brief enough, then said, “I was expecting your father or brother to greet us.”

“Neither are home at present, although they will both return for dinner this evening. In the meanwhile, Langston and Mrs. Henshaw have everything in order for your visit.”

“Excellent. Naturally we are both anxious to get settled and refreshed after our journey.”

“Naturally.” Although what she needed to refresh, he couldn’t imagine, as she appeared perfectly crisp. He extended his arm toward the house. “Follow me, please.”

Victoria gathered her skirts, fell into step behind Dr. Oliver and breathed a sigh of relief that she was no longer forced to look into those intriguing gold-flecked eyes that saw too much, knew too much. No longer had to see that lovely mouth that had so thoroughly initiated her into the wonders of kissing. Botheration, she felt overheated and positively breathless, and as much as she longed to blame the condition on the strain of the journey, she’d done nothing more strenuous than sit and her conscience wouldn’t allow such a blatant lie.