Her aunt’s assessment of the situation was so accurate, Victoria could only stare. “How did you know that?”

“Two reasons. First, my intuition is-and I say this with the utmost modesty-formidable. And second, because you and I are very much alike, and that is precisely the way I would react in your situation. I think you’re learning that the problem with plans is that they lack spontaneity.”

“I don’t like spontaneity.”

“On the contrary, I think you’re discovering, much to your dismay, that you like it very much. You only think you don’t like it because you’ve never known it before. It’s rather like saying that you don’t care for blueberry pie when you’ve never tasted blueberry pie.” Her gaze searched Victoria’s for several heartbeats. “Neither Branripple nor Dravensby affect you this way.”

There was no point in denying it. Indeed, it was a relief to admit it. “No. And I can’t understand why. Both are handsome. Certainly I’m much more suited to either of them than I am to Dr. Oliver.”

Aunt Delia’s brows shot upward. “Are you?”

“Of course. Lords Branripple and Dravensby are not only superior matches socially, I have much more in common with them.”

“Really? You don’t find them… boring?”

Dead boring, she realized. However, instead of helping, this conversation confused her even more. “I don’t understand. I would have thought you’d warn me against a man like Dr. Oliver.”

“A warm, handsome man who is clearly besotted with you and who puts that sparkle in your eye?”

“A man who does not possess a title. Who lives in a modest cottage, earns a modest living, and eschews Society.”

“None of which make him unsuitable, my dear. He may not be the heir, but he is still the son of an earl.”

“But what of securing my future? Marriage to either Branripple or Dravensby would make me a countess. Guarantee my position in Society. The decisions I make now will affect the rest of my life.”

“That is true.” Aunt Delia gently squeezed her hand. “But surely you know your father wouldn’t leave you financially destitute.”

“Father expects me to marry well.”

“Of course he does. But by ‘well’ I’m sure he means that he wants you to be happy.” Her aunt drew a breath, then continued, “What of Lords Sutton and Alwyck? You have a viscount and an earl right here at your fingertips, and ‘tis clear from the two evenings we’ve just spent in their company that they both find you attractive. I would be hard pressed to choose who was the handsomer, as they are both extraordinarily comely.”

“Yes, they are.” But neither made her pulse jump or her heart stutter. Neither made her want to be near him just so she wouldn’t miss one of his smiles or a single word he uttered. Neither made her fingers tingle with the overwhelming need to touch him. Nathan did all those things simply by… being. “But both of their estates and lives are here in Cornwall. While this hasn’t proven the dreadful place I’d envisioned, I could never live so far from Town. From civilization. Besides, I barely know either gentleman, whereas I’ve been acquainted with Branripple and Dravensby for years.”

“You haven’t known Dr. Oliver very long, either,” Aunt Delia said softly, “which just goes to show that the length of the acquaintance is not an accurate measure to one’s feelings.” Her gaze shifted toward the fire and her eyes took on a faraway expression. “Sometimes a person we’ve just met can ignite a spark, a desire, a yearning that someone we’ve known for years has never lit.”

She blinked twice, then seemed to recall herself and turned back to Victoria. “I’m certain that either Branripple or Dravensby would make polite, acceptable husbands who would give you little trouble. But search your heart, Victoria. Life can be staid and boring, or it can be a grand adventure. Life with a staid, boring man will be just that. On the other hand, life with someone who makes your heart soar…” She heaved a dreamy sigh the likes of which Victoria had never heard from her. “That life will be a glorious adventure.”

“Perhaps. But one must eat while on this great adventure.”

“True. Though one need not feast on the richest cuisine every day to appease the appetite.”

“It is not enough to be physically attracted to someone. I have nothing in common with Dr. Oliver.”

“Really? His father has told me a great deal about him, and from what he’s said, you share a number of similar interests.”

“Such as?”

“A love of reading. A passion for knowledge. A fondness for fairy tales. You both like animals.”

Victoria looked toward the ceiling. “He does not keep everyday, ordinary animals.”

Her aunt shrugged. “He is not an everyday, ordinary man. You’re both intelligent, and clearly he recognizes that trait in you and admires it. A smart woman would certainly impress a man like Dr. Oliver.”

“Perhaps I don’t want to impress him.”

“Pshaw. Any woman who draws breath would want to impress that divine man. Do you want to know what I think?”

Even though she wasn’t sure, Victoria nodded. “Of course.”

“I think you’re afraid to impress him. That you’re trying to keep some distance between you, to keep in place whatever barricades you’ve managed to erect.”

“Surely given our situations, that is for the best. When I return to London, I am going to choose another man to marry. And I am not at all the sort of woman Dr. Oliver wants. He believes me a hothouse flower.”

“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.