No, indeed, she didn't find him the least bit attractive. The only reason she hadn't dismissed him from her mind was because he had managed to anger her… and recalling their parting angered her still. Yes, that was all there was to it.

Satisfied, she carefully tied her journal closed with a strip of satin ribbon, then slid the well-worn leather book into the hidden compartment she'd fashioned in her escritoire.

Rising, she wandered to her bedchamber window. The late-afternoon sun gleamed, casting a swatch of bright warmth across the colorful braided throw rug.

Pushing aside the dark green velvet drapery, she opened the window, then leaned on the sill to gaze upon the grounds. Flowery scent wafted up from Mama's roses, which bloomed in a wild profusion of reds and pinks. No one in the village had finer roses than Cordelia Briggeham, and Sammie loved to wander the paths meandering through Mama's garden, breathing in the glorious, heady scent.

The tap of footsteps on the terrace caught her attention.

Looking down, she saw Hubert crossing the flagstones with his gangly stride, nearly staggering under the weight of a large box.

"What do you have there, Hubert?" she called.

Hubert stopped and peered upward, his face breaking into a wide grin at the sight of her. A lock of chestnut hair fell across his forehead, lending him a childlike air at odds with his sixteen years.

"Hallo!" he called. "The new telescope has finally arrived! I'm off to the Chamber. Would you care to join me?"

"Most definitely. I'll join you in a few moments." She waved, then watched Hubert head toward the old barn that he'd converted into his laboratory several years ago. Sammie left her bedchamber and walked toward the stairs, excited at the prospect of seeing the new telescope. As she approached the landing, Mama's voice drifted upward.

"How lovely of you to call, my lord. And such beautiful flowers! Chester, please escort his lordship to the parlor. I'll see to this bouquet and inform Samantha she has a guest."

"Yes, Mrs. Briggeham," intoned Chester in his deep, butler voice.

Botheration! No doubt the "my lord" currently on his way to the parlor was that annoying Viscount Carsdale, come to discuss the weather. Sammie leaned against the wall and fought the urge to sprint back to her bedchamber and hide in her wardrobe. She'd have done just that if she'd thought there was any hope of avoiding Mama and her guest, but the swish of Mama's skirts and the tread of her feet upon the stairs indicated she was trapped. Drawing a bracing breath, she met Mama at the top of the stairs. Mama bore a large bouquet of summer flowers and a radiant smile.

"Samantha!" Mama said in an excited undertone. "You have a caller, darling. And you'll never guess who it is!"

"Viscount Carsdale?"

Mama's eyes widened. "Heavens, is he planning to call upon you as well? You must tell me these things, darling."

"What do you mean 'as well'? Who is Chester showing to the parlor?"

Mama leaned forward, her face alight with delight. "Lord Wesley." She breathed his name with a reverence normally reserved for saints and monarchs.

Much to her annoyance, a tingle that felt suspiciously like anticipation skittered down Sammie's spine. What on earth was he doing here? Did he wish to continue their discussion regarding the Bride Thief? If so, his visit would be brief, indeed, for she had no intention of answering any more of his questions or listening to any more unkind words issued toward the heroic man. Or had he perhaps called for some other reason? If so, she couldn't imagine what. And why had he brought her flowers?

Mama thrust the bouquet under Sammie's nose and said, "He brought you these. Aren't they magnificent? Oooh, flowers from an earl… I cannot wait to tell Lydia." Her eyes quickly assessed Samantha's plain gray gown. "Dear, oh, dear, you really should change into one of your new gowns, but I suppose this will have to do. We do not want to keep his lordship waiting."

Commandeering Sammie's arm with a strength that belied her petite proportions, Mama all but propelled her down the stairs, then down the corridor toward the parlor, whispering terse instructions the entire way.

"Don't forget to smile, darling," Mama said, "and make sure you agree with everything the earl says."

"But-"

"And be sure to inquire after his health," Mama continued, "but do not broach any of those unladylike topics such as mathematics and science you are so fond of."

"But-"

"And whatever you do, do not mention Isadore, Cuthbert, or Warfinkle. It is not necessary that the earl be apprised of your… unusual pets." She cast Sammie a narrowed-eyed, sidelong glance. "They are outdoors, are they not?"

"Yes, but-"

"Excellent." They paused in front of the parlor door, and Mama patted her cheek. "I'm very happy for you, darling."

Before Sammie could even attempt to utter a word, Mama opened the parlor door and sailed across the threshold. "Here she is, Lord Wesley," she announced, nearly yanking Sammie off her feet. "I'll rejoin you in a few moments-just as soon as I've seen to these lovely flowers and arranged for some refreshments." She beamed an angelic smile, then withdrew, leaving the door properly ajar.

Although anxious to join Hubert and his new telescope as soon as possible, reluctant curiosity about the reason for the earl's call pulled at Sammie. Determined to be polite, she turned toward her guest.

He stood in the center of the diamond-patterned Axminster rug, tall, imposing, perfectly turned out in glossy black boots, fawn-colored riding breeches, and a midnight-blue jacket that hugged his masculine frame to perfection. For just an instant, she inexplicably, and uncharacteristically, wished she were wearing one of her new gowns.

The only aspects of his appearance that weren't perfect were his cravat, which looked as if he'd yanked upon it, and his dark hair, which looked as if he'd raked his hands through it. She admitted, albeit grudgingly, that these flaws in his appearance were somehow… endearing.

She nearly rolled her eyes at her choice of word. He wasn't in the least endearing. He was annoying. Questioning her regarding the Bride Thief in what could only be described as an underhanded manner, then scoffing at her desire to aid the heroic man, claiming to be concerned for her welfare. What enormous impudence! Well, the sooner she greeted him and discovered the reason for his call, the sooner she could show him on his way.

"Good afternoon, Lord Wesley," she said, attempting her best, for Mama's sake, to sound friendly.

"And the same to you, Miss Briggeham."

"Er, thank you for the flowers."

"You're welcome." His gaze swept over the room, taking in the abundance of bouquets that adorned every available surface. "Although, if I'd known that you already possessed so many floral tributes, I would have brought you something else."

Her gaze followed his, and she couldn't suppress a sigh. "Mama says a woman can never have too many flowers, yet I shudder to think of all the poor plants that have been beheaded for these bouquets." The instant the words left her mouth, she realized how impolite they must sound to a man who'd just presented her with flowers. Hoping to make up for her faux pas, she asked in her politest voice, "Would you care to sit down, my lord?"

"No, thank you." He walked toward her, his gaze resting on hers in a way that oddly unsettled her. When only several feet separated them, he said, "I prefer to stand to express my regrets that we parted company on a strained note last evening. I did not mean to upset you."

The warmth radiating from his velvety brown eyes indicated his sincerity, but she'd learned over the past few weeks that seemingly sincere words flowed from gentlemen's lips like honey from a hive.

"You did not upset me, Lord Wesley."

When he raised his brows in a manner that clearly indicated he didn't believe her, she clarified, "You annoyed me."

Something that looked like amusement flashed in his eyes. "Ah. Then please allow me to express my regrets forannoying you. In spite of how it may have appeared, I was not trying to glean information from you. And I merely wished to point out the extreme folly of your desire to aid a wanted criminal."

Her hands clenched. "You express your regrets for annoying me, my lord, yet you continue to do so by again offering your unsolicited opinion."

"I assure you I am-"

"I say, Sammie," Hubert's voice broke in from just beyond the doorway. "What's keeping you?" Turning, Sammie watched Hubert stride into the parlor, then stop dead at the sight of her guest. "Oh, I beg your pardon," he said, his face flushing red. "I didn't realize you were entertaining."

"No reason to apologize," she assured Hubert with a smile she hoped didn't betray her relief at his interruption. "The earl is a very busy man. I'm sure he won't wish to occupy himself with me much longer." From the corner of her eye she noticed a whisper of a smile pass the earl's lips.

Striving to keep her voice level, Sammie performed the necessary introductions, watching the earl closely, all her protective instincts for Hubert on alert. Last week, when Viscount Carsdale had called upon her, she'd introduced Hubert to the gentleman. Hubert's face had fallen when the viscount's gaze had flicked over him with dismissive disdain, flooding Sammie with the urge to slap the arrogant man. She was well-accustomed to social slights and had learned to disregard them, but Hubert was still sensitive to such cuts. If the earl acted in a similar fashion…

Surprise suffused her when Lord Wesley extended his hand in a friendly, unaffected manner. "A pleasure to meet you, lad," he said.

"The pleasure's mine, my lord," Hubert said, his face flushing deeper. He returned his attention to Sammie. "Sorry to interrupt, but when you didn't meet me in the Chamber as you'd promised, I grew concerned that the Cricket had waylaid you." A grin flashed across his face. "Thought you might need rescuing."

I did indeed, but not from Mama. Before she could respond, Lord Wesley asked, "Chamber?"

"My Chamber of Experiments," Hubert said. "I converted the old barn into a laboratory."

Interest filled Lord Wesley's gaze. "Indeed? And what do you do there?"

"All manner of experiments." Hubert cast a quick, self-conscious glance toward Sammie, then continued. "I also use it for my inventions and my astronomy studies."

"I've an interest in astronomy myself," the earl said. "I'm hoping the weather will be clear this evening so I might view the stars."

Hubert's face lit up. "As am I. It's a fascinating science, is it not? Sammie… I mean, Samantha, loves it as well."

Lord Wesley's gaze shifted to her. "Do you, indeed, Miss Briggeham?"

"Yes," she said briskly. "In fact, I was about to join Hubert in his Chamber when you called." Surely the earl would realize her broad hint and take his leave.

"My new telescope just arrived from London," Hubert reported to the earl. "Perhaps you'd like to see it?"

Sammie barely squelched a horrified squeak. "I'm sure Lord Wesley has pressing matters awaiting him, Hubert."

There was no mistaking the amusement glittering in the earl's eyes. "I do?"

"Don't you?"

"Actually, I'd be very interested to see Hubert's telescope."

"Surely you don't wish to-"

"Oh, it's a very fine one, my lord," Hubert broke in. " 'Twould be an honor to show it to you."

"I accept your kind invitation. Thank you." Lord Wesley offered Sammie a smile that appeared distinctly smug, a fact that tensed her shoulders. Extending his arm toward her, he said, "Shall we, Miss Briggeham?"

Mentally cursing her beloved brother for including the bothersome man in their outing, she forced a smile. She debated ignoring his arm, but decided not to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging that his presence disturbed her in any way. Besides, Hubert was clearly excited at the prospect of showing off his telescope. Surely she could endure the earl's presence for a short time longer… provided he did not voice disparaging words about the Bride Thief again. If he did, she'd simply change the subject, then send him on his way with all deliberate speed. And after today, she'd most likely never see him again.

Yes, that was a very simple, logical, practical plan. Resting her hand lightly on Lord Wesley's sleeve, they followed Hubert from the room.


Eric strolled along a winding garden path flanked by a profusion of roses, and tried to hide the smile that tugged incessantly on his lips. Miss Briggeham's fingers rested on his sleeve with what appeared to be all the enthusiasm of one touching a large, hairy, potentially poisonous insect. He had to admit that her reaction to him piqued his interest and curiosity. Women were always only too pleased to receive, as well as seek, his company. Perhaps such would still be the case were he not an earl, but certainly being titled and wealthy guaranteed him an excess of female attention.