“Thank ye.” He shot a narrow-eyed look at the goat, pig, cow, and ducks who hovered in the doorway. “Out with the lot of ye. Yer grub is comin‘.” He looked at Nathan. “Will ye be needin’ horses saddled, Dr. Nathan?”

“If you’ll feed the animals, I’ll take care of the saddling for Lady Victoria and myself.”

Hopkins jerked his head in a nod, then headed outside, followed closely by the herd. As he disappeared from sight, his voice drifted back into the stable. “Git yer bloody snout out o‘ my arse, ye damn impatient beast.”

Pretending he didn’t hear a thing, Nathan said, “Just let me settle Boots.” He set the sleeping kitten in the first stall then latched the door. When he returned, he said to Lady Victoria, “Are you a proficient rider?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I think Honey will be a fine mount for you. She’s spirited, but gentle.” He led the way to the last stall, where the mare, named for her pale golden mane, nickered at the sight of him.

“She’s beautiful,” Lady Victoria exclaimed when he led the mare from the stall. He watched her stroke the horse’s neck and velvety nose.

While Lady Victoria and Honey became acquainted, he outfitted the mare with a sidesaddle, listening to Lady Victoria croon soft, complimentary words to the horse. He then saddled Midnight, a pure black gelding, for himself.

After seeing Lady Victoria safely settled in the saddle, he swung up onto Midnight and led the way out of the stables. Curious as to whether she truly was a proficient rider, he struck out at a brisk trot toward the huge copse of elms at the far edge of the lawns, purposely avoiding the other direction, where the haunting memories from that night three years ago waited to ambush him. When they neared the trees, he slowed their pace, wandering slowly along the wood-scented trails dappled with pale skeins of early morning sunlight. Birds twittered, leaves scrunched underfoot, and a soft sea-scented breeze filled his head. Memories assaulted him from all directions. He’d ridden and walked and run these paths countless times during his youth, and even after such a long absence it now felt as if he’d never left.

He wasn’t certain how long they rode in silence before she said, “The grounds here are lovely. Do you visit Creston Manor often?”

He wondered if something had shown on his face to prompt her question. “I haven’t been here in three years.”

Her brows shot upward. “You mean since that last mission?”

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you returned?”

He turned and faced her directly. The sunlight glimmered on the dark brown curls framing her face, coaxing cinnamon highlights. Her dark green riding costume complemented her creamy complexion. And her lips… bloody hell, her lips looked like they were fashioned from plump, moist, succulent peaches. Perhaps going riding with her hadn’t been a good idea after all-

“Lord Nathan? Why haven’t you returned?”

Bloody hell, he’d completely dropped the conversational ball. He quickly debated telling her the truth, then decided, why the hell not? It’s not as if her opinion of him mattered. “After the mission failed, I had a falling out with my father and brother. It was best for all concerned that I left.”

Her gaze searched his, then she said softly, “That must have been very difficult for you.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, it hadn’t been that. He’d expected her to pry, to look scornful, to be curious. Instead she offered him sympathy, as if she understood such estrangement. He found it confusing. And unsettling. Damn it, he didn’t want to discover anything nice about her.

“I imagine that being here again brings back many memories,” she said, again disarming him with her uncanny ability to understand precisely what he was thinking.

“Yes. This trail we’re on right now was always my favorite. It splits about a quarter mile ahead, with the right fork heading toward the beach and the left to a small private lake at the far edge of the property.”

“So this particular spot is filled with happy memories?”

He nodded slowly, a smile tugging at his lips as some of those memories slipped through his mind. “Yes, it is.”

“Would you care to share some with me?”

He shot her a look. Her expression revealed only interest. “You realize that if we converse, we run the risk of arguing.”

“We won’t converse,” she said with a smile. “You can talk, and I shall simply listen to your stories of your misspent youth. So tell me, why was this spot your favorite?”

He hesitated several seconds, allowing the atmosphere of the surroundings to infuse him with nostalgia. The twittering birds, the soaring trees bathing them in dancing ribbons of shade and gilded sunshine. The scent of fresh earth, clean air, and always, that underlying tang of the sea that made him think of home. “My two favorite spots on the estate were the lake and the sea. Every day, no matter what the weather, I walked this path, debating the entire way which body of water I would visit that day.” He laughed in remembrance. “The decision was agonizing.”

“How agonizing could it be? Why not simply solve the dilemma by alternating destinations every day? Or better yet, visiting both?”

“Excellent suggestions, however, visiting both never seemed viable, as I do not like to rush, and once I arrived at one location I hated to leave. Therefore, much had to be considered when choosing my daily destination. Such as the weather.”

“What did the weather have to do with your choice?”

“I always chose the sea route if it was storming. The drama of the waves crashing against the shore, the roar of the churning water spraying up onto the rugged cliffs, enthralled me. I also chose the sea path directly after a storm, as the shore always held a new selection of debris to look over and shells to collect.”

“I love collecting shells,” Lady Victoria said, her eyes shining. “I keep them in an enormous glass jar at Wexhall Manor which I add to every year during our holiday in Bath.”

“Then you’ll certainly enjoy the beach here.”

“I gather, then, that you took the lake route on fair-weather days?”

“Usually, as I enjoyed swimming in the lake. Sometimes I came alone, enjoying the solitude of just floating on the water, staring at the sky, watching the clouds. Most of the time, however, Colin, Gordon, and I were together, making some sort of mischief, playing pirates or the like.”

“Gordon… do you mean Lord Alwyck?”

“Yes. We’ve known each other our entire lives.” And used to be the best of friends. Nathan shook off the thought, then continued, “Of course, Wednesdays were always devoted to the lake, regardless of the weather.”

“Why is that?”

“Because that is the day Hopkins bathed in the lake. We would skulk down there and wait until he was fully submerged, then nip off with his clothing.”

Her eyes widened, then she pressed her gloved fingers to her lips to hide her smile. “You did this to the poor man every Wednesday?”

“Without fail.”

“Did he not retaliate?”

“Oh, yes. It became a battle of the wits. Hopkins took to hiding his clothes in different places, we found them. He’d bring an extra set, but we caught on to that as well. He hid a towel in the bushes, we located it. We always left his clothes in the stable, neatly folded, with a note that read ‘Till next week, the Got Yer Arse Bared Clothes Thief.’” A smile eased across Nathan’s lips. “When he was around us, he always pretended that he didn’t know it was us. But we would hide in the woods and watch him emerge from the lake, dripping wet, cussing and swearing, promising vengeance against those ‘young hooligans’-although his words were decidedly saltier than that and not ones I would repeat to a lady.”

She tried to look stern, but there was no mistaking the amusement in her gaze. “Did Hopkins never get the better of you?”

“Oh, yes. One time he filled our boots with horse manure.” He made a face, then laughed. “The expression on Colin’s face when he shoved his foot into his boot is one I shall never forget. Another time Hopkins nipped off with our clothes, which I can’t say we didn’t richly deserve. We nearly made it into the house undetected through the servant’s entrance, but as luck would have it, we ran into two maids delivering fresh linens to the bedchambers. And I mean literally ran into them. Sheets and pillowcases flying in the air, naked, red-faced boys, gaping, gasping maids. And to make it worse, Father came upon us-it was quite the spectacle. Received an ear-blistering set-down from Father, forbidding us to swim in the lake ever again.”

“And did you heed him?”

“Of course not.” He grinned. “Where is the fun in that?” He reined Midnight to a halt and pointed. “There is the fork. Which direction do you choose?”

When she tapped her finger to her pursed lips and considered, he said, “Now you understand my agonizing. Imagine, if you will, that your two favorite shops in London were giving away merchandise, but only for a single afternoon, and at the exact same times. Which would you choose to go to?”

“I wouldn’t choose at all. I’d go to one location and send a servant to act in my stead in the other.”

Nathan couldn’t help but laugh. “But then you would miss the thrill of choosing the items yourself.”

“But I’d still have items from both stores.” She smiled. “As today is Wednesday and I’ve no wish to interrupt Hopkins’s bathing routine, I prefer the beach and shell collecting.”

He bowed deeply. “As you wish.” They started down the path, which narrowed, making it necessary for them to travel single file. Nathan led, allowing visions of the past to flow around him. These were the paths of his boyhood, filled with countless memories, all now conspiring to resurrect the dull ache of homesickness he’d thought he finally buried. In an effort to keep it at bay, he said, “The sea is just ahead.” He kept Midnight to a slow pace, allowing the anticipation to build, knowing the exquisite view that awaited him.