“Yet his wishes are for you to look after her. And I’ve no intention of allowing you to fob her off on me.”

“Given your status as the heir and mine as the poor, second son who is paid for his doctoring services in farm beasts, I’m certain I won’t need to fob her off at all. I suspect she’ll run directly in your direction.”

“How fortunate that I am fleet of foot.”

“And how fortunate that I have neither the title nor estates that would lure an heiress, or even make marriage necessary, as I’ve no need to produce an heir. I’m afraid all the family marriage hopes fall on you, Lord Sutton.”

“You would need to marry if the title was yours.”

“But it’s not, thank goodness.”

“Yet it would be if I failed to produce an heir.”

“Only if you died, and you appear to be in excellent health. And if that should change, luckily I am a superior physician and I shall see to it that you live to a ripe old age. And marry. And produce many children.” Nathan smiled. “All while I remain a carefree bachelor.”

“Do you recall how I used to toss you in the lake, little brother?”

“I do. It’s how I learned to swim.” He gave Colin a pointed head-to-toe look. “You’ll note I’m not so little anymore. You’d have one hell of a time throwing me in that lake now.”

“Perhaps.” Colin nodded toward the pen. “Are you nearly finished?”

“Another hour or so should do it.” He looked at Colin’s pristine white shirt, brocade waistcoat, Devonshire brown jacket, buff breeches, and polished boots. “I don’t suppose you’d care to lend a hand?”

“I don’t suppose I would. I’m off to Penzance to meet a lady. A lovely lady, who, unlike your Lady Victoria, would never be described as a supercilious child.”

“She is not my Lady Victoria.”

Colin merely laughed. “I’ll be home in time to join everyone for dinner this evening.” Then, with a wave, he entered the stables, leaving Nathan to stare at his back, with an odd lump tightening his throat.

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.