“And the other man,” Aunt Delia said, leaning so close to the window her nose was nearly pressed against the glass, “good heavens, none of my servants look like that at all. ‘Tis enough to make one want to do nothing more than think of excuses to summon the dear shirtless boy.”

Victoria’s lips twitched at the outrageous comment. “That’s one of the things I love most about you, Aunt Delia. You speak your mind-even when your thoughts are…”

“Naughty? My dear, that is precisely when it is the most fun to express your thoughts.”

“I’m sure he dons a shirt before entering the house,” Victoria said, still trying to pry her gaze away and keep the wistful note from her voice.

“Pity. But I suppose he would.” Their carriage rounded a corner and the man was no longer visible. After they’d leaned back in their seats, Aunt Delia said, “I imagine he’s left a trail of broken hearts in his wake.”

“I imagine so,” Victoria murmured, instantly sympathizing with those women, as she knew precisely how they felt. But thanks to the Ladies’ Guide and her well-thought-out plan, she was going to see to it that her heart-and pride-no longer lay in the dirt.

Two

Today’s Modern Woman must recognize that once she asserts herself, she will face many temptations. Sometimes this temptation takes the form of a delectable gown, or a delicious confection, which, depending on her financial situation, she should perhaps resist. However, sometimes this temptation takes the form of a delectable, delicious gentleman, in which case she should never resist.


A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore


Nathan hammered another nail into place, banging on the small metal head with a satisfying thump.

“Pounding out your frustrations?” asked a deep voice from behind him.

Nathan tensed at his brother’s question. He then drew a deep breath and forced his shoulders to relax, wondering when, or if, the awkwardness between him and Colin would ever dissipate. After exhaling, he whacked the nail head with a final grunting stroke, then looked over his shoulder. Impeccably dressed in riding attire, immaculately groomed, and exuding the image of a perfect gentleman that Nathan had long ago given up emulating, his brother regarded him with his usual inscrutable expression.

Nathan turned and grabbed his rumpled, discarded shirt to wipe his damp forehead. The sun warmed his bare back, and he welcomed the cool, sea-scented breeze that brushed over his heated skin. “Pounding out my frustrations,” he repeated. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”

“Based on the amount of hammering I’ve heard all morning, you must be frustrated indeed.” Colin jerked his chin toward Nathan’s handiwork. “Quite the animal pen you’re building.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I arrived at the estate with quite a number of animals.”

“Would have been damned difficult not to notice, what with all the mooing, baaing, clucking, barking, meowing, quacking, oinking, and… what sort of noise does that goat make?”

“That goat has a name. It’s Petunia.”

Colin pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “I find it nearly impossible to understand why you think it necessary to keep such a menagerie, and even more impossible to comprehend why you would bring it-them-all the way to Cornwall. But what I truly cannot fathom is why you would burden the unfortunate beast with a name like Petunia.”

“I didn’t name her. Mrs. Fitzharbinger, my patient who gave her to me, named her Petunia.”

“Well, clearly Mrs. Fitzharbinger possesses no sense of smell whatsoever because never in my life have I ever caught a whiff of anything that less resembled a flower than that filthy beast.”

“I’d mind my words if I were you, Colin. Petunia is sensitive to insults and fond of butting the arse of those who speak ill of her.” He shot a glance at his goat, who, upon hearing her name, lifted her pale brown head from the patch of flowers upon which she munched and stared at him through obsidian eyes. Telltale purple flowers and stems protruded from the sides of Petunia’s mouth as her scruffy chin worked back and forth. “She has a particular fondness for petunias, thus her name.”

Colin looked skyward. “If she were named by her favorite foods, then she also could have just as easily been dubbed ‘Handkerchief,’ ‘Button,’ ‘Vellum-’”

“Yes, she loves to eat paper-”

“As I discovered this morning when she ingested a note I’d tucked in my waistcoat pocket. At which time I also lost a button.” He sizzled a heated glare at Petunia. Petunia continued to chew in an unconcerned fashion.

“What about your handkerchief?”

Colin’s eyes narrowed. “That was yesterday. Doesn’t that beast know she’s supposed to eat grass?”

“Actually, goats prefer to eat shrubs, bushes, leaves, and gorse.”

“Seems to me she prefers to eat anything that isn’t nailed down. At every opportunity.”

“Perhaps. But she won’t appreciate you saying so. I’d watch my arse if I were you.” Nathan cocked a brow. “Your note must have been from a young lady. Petunia harbors a great appetite for love letters.”

“Because she can read, I’m certain.”

“In truth, I wouldn’t be shocked to discover she could. Animals are much more intelligent than we give them credit for. I’ve discovered that Reginald can differentiate between apples and strawberries. He does not care for strawberries.”

“I’m certain Lars and the entire gardening staff will breathe a collective sigh of relief at the news, especially given the current sad state of the petunias. And which of your brood is Reginald? The goose?”

“No, the pig.”

Colin’s gaze shifted to where Reginald lay sprawled on his side in porcine glory, beneath the shade of a nearby elm. “Ah, yes, the pig. Another gift from a grateful patient?”

“Actually, he was payment from a grateful patient.”

“A patient who most likely thought he’d provided you with a feast of pork, ham, and bacon.”

“Most likely. How fortunate for Reginald that I’m not overly fond of bacon.”

“Or beef, either, by the looks of that cow.”

“Daisy. Her name is Daisy.” Nathan jerked his head toward the black and white bovine munching grass near Reginald. “I know you like to think of yourself as impervious, but look at her. One glance from those huge, liquid brown eyes and even you couldn’t think of her providing anything other than fresh milk.”

Colin shook his head. “Good God, you’re a candidate for Bedlam. Petunia, Daisy,” he muttered. “Are all your pets named for flowers?”

“Not all of them. The mastiff’s name is B.C.”

“Based on the size of the beast, short for Bone Crusher, no doubt?”

“No. Boot Chewer. Consider yourself forewarned.”

“Thank you.” There was no missing the sarcasm in Colin’s tone. “B.C. is payment from another grateful patient?”

“Yes.”

“As I suppose the ducks, geese, cat, and lamb were.”

“Correct.”

“You are aware that money is the normal compensation for a physician’s services?”

“I receive that as well. Occasionally.”

“By the looks of your menagerie, very occasionally.”

Nathan shrugged. He’d never convince Colin or their father that he was perfectly content living in a cottage that could fit, with room to spare, in Creston Manor’s drawing room. Or that his mismatched animals were his friends. His family. And as such, he needed them here, to help him through the ordeal he suspected awaited him just around the corner. “I’m paid enough to keep a roof over my head and keep my furry and feathered friends fed.”

“Quite a bit tamer than the old days,” Colin said.

Instantly the wall between them that they’d skirted around since Nathan’s arrival yesterday could no longer be ignored. Yet he had no desire to talk about the past. “Much tamer. And that’s just the way I like it.”

“This was your home, Nathan. You didn’t have to leave.”

How was it possible that such softly spoken words could hit him so hard? “Didn’t I?” He couldn’t keep the edge of bitterness from his own words.

Colin studied him for several long seconds through green eyes that were so like their mother’s they inspired another wave of memories Nathan had to fight back. Finally Colin turned his head and stared into the distance.

“You could have made different choices.”

“I don’t see how. Even if I’d wanted to stay, Father demanded I go.”

“He spoke in anger. So did you. He’s since written to you, inviting you to come home.”

“True. But by then I’d already settled in Little Longstone.” He raked a hand through his hair. “While our relationship is civil, there remains an… awkwardness between Father and I that I’m not sure we’ll ever breach.” He didn’t need to add as there remains between you and I. The words hung between them like a dank fog.

Colin nodded slowly. “You hadn’t intended to return.”

Nathan’s gaze inadvertently flicked to the wooded area behind Colin. He jerked his head in a tight shake. “No.”

“Yet you’re here.”

“Lord Wexhall’s letter left me little choice.”

“I’d have thought you’d embrace the chance to clear your name.”

“Believe me, the opportunity to do so is the only reason I agreed to come here.” Guilt pricked Nathan when Colin’s jaw tightened, but it was better he told the bald truth. There were already enough lies between them.

“Evidenced by the fact that you haven’t been home in three years,” Colin murmured.

Yes, three years. Three years since his life had changed so drastically. Three years of burying memories and striving to find peace. Of finding a place where he belonged, where the past didn’t linger around every corner. “I’ve written.”