Suppressing a smile, he moved forward. “Greetings, ladies,” he said as he joined the group. “Delighted to see you’ve arrived safely. Your journey was pleasant, I hope?”

Lady Delia raised an ornate quizzing glass and peered at him. “Dr. Oliver, a pleasure to see you again after all these years.”

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Delia,” he said, offering her a smile and a formal bow.

Her sharp-eyed gaze took in his disheveled appearance. “It appears some manner of catastrophe has befallen you.”

“Not at all. Merely the result of a project by the stables which proved rather dirty work. I was just returning to the house to make myself presentable for your arrival, but I fear it is too late.”

“By the stables?” Lady Delia’s eyes widened. “Were you there a quarter hour ago? Hammering something?”

“I was. If I’d known your arrival was so imminent-”

“Nonsense, dear boy. Wouldn’t want you abandoning your project on our account.” Lady Delia graced him with a dazzling smile, then said, “I’m not sure if you recall meeting my niece, Lady Victoria-”

“Of course I remember Lady Victoria. I pride myself on never forgetting a face.” Or a passionate kiss. He turned toward her and found himself the subject of Lady Victoria’s bland regard. Certainly not the warm reception he’d received the last time they met. Probably upon reflection she’d relegated him a cad for stealing that kiss and regretted not slapping his face. Well, fine. That would make their interactions even briefer.

He made her a formal bow, then rose to his full height. He recalled she was slightly taller than average, although the top of her head still only reached his shoulder. Now that he was closer, he noted her flawless complexion, which was stained with a becoming rosy hue. Indeed, she looked rather flushed. Probably very warm in the carriage. In spite of what he knew had to have been an arduous journey, she surprisingly showed no outward signs of fatigue. No, she appeared fresh and lovely. Prim, proper, coolly elegant, and altogether ladylike. Still, he didn’t doubt she’d suffer from the vapors like most ladies of her station and swoon about on every chaise Creston Manor had to offer at her first opportunity.

His gaze took in her eyes, noting their vivid blue shade, made all the more outstanding by the crescent of dark lashes surrounding them. The last time he’d seen those eyes they’d been drooped at half-mast and glazed with arousal. And then there was her mouth… so lush and full. Everything about her demeanor and dress was perfectly prim and proper, but there was nothing proper about those lips. He instantly recalled how delicious they’d tasted, how plush they’d felt beneath his. She’d grown even lovelier in the last three years. Except he no longer detected that glitter of mischief in her eyes, that impish curve to her lips, and he idly wondered what had brought about the change. Probably had wisely decided that kissing strangers in the gallery was not a good idea. Not that he cared. No indeed. He had his own problems to worry about. She’d all but knocked him on his arse once before-he wouldn’t give her opportunity to do it again. Give him a warm, sweet-natured, plain woman over a cool, nose-in-the-air hothouse beauty any day.

“How do you do, Lady Victoria?”

She lifted her chin and somehow managed, in spite of their height differences, to peer down her nose at him, as if she were a bloody princess and he the lowly hired help.

“Dr. Oliver.” Her gaze again flickered over his dirty attire and her nose twitched. Catching a pungent whiff of Reginald and Petunia no doubt. When their eyes met again, she said, “You are precisely as I recall.”

Surely he should have been insulted by her insinuation that when last they’d met he’d been dirty, unkempt, and smelled foul, but instead he found himself unexpectedly amused. “I’m honored that you remember me, my lady. Our meeting was… brief.”

She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like not brief enough, then said, “I was expecting your father or brother to greet us.”

“Neither are home at present, although they will both return for dinner this evening. In the meanwhile, Langston and Mrs. Henshaw have everything in order for your visit.”

“Excellent. Naturally we are both anxious to get settled and refreshed after our journey.”

“Naturally.” Although what she needed to refresh, he couldn’t imagine, as she appeared perfectly crisp. He extended his arm toward the house. “Follow me, please.”

Victoria gathered her skirts, fell into step behind Dr. Oliver and breathed a sigh of relief that she was no longer forced to look into those intriguing gold-flecked eyes that saw too much, knew too much. No longer had to see that lovely mouth that had so thoroughly initiated her into the wonders of kissing. Botheration, she felt overheated and positively breathless, and as much as she longed to blame the condition on the strain of the journey, she’d done nothing more strenuous than sit and her conscience wouldn’t allow such a blatant lie.

No, Dr. Oliver was the source of her discomfort, and a more vexing situation she could not recall. What on earth was wrong with her? The man looked dreadful. Dirty. Unkempt. Completely ungentlemanly. And he smelled as if he’d spent the day mucking out the stalls and engaged in hard labor. Without his shirt…

Her gaze settled on his broad back and heat crept up her neck. She now knew what his rumpled, dirty shirt covered, or at least as much as she’d been able to see at a distance. If only that distance hadn’t been so great-

She chopped off the disturbing thought before it could take root and fill her mind with images she did not wish to… imagine. It seemed that ever since she’d read the Ladies’ Guide-a half-dozen times-her thoughts had increasingly veered toward things of that nature. But of course, that was the point of the book-to encourage women to change the way they viewed themselves and men. To encourage Today’s Modern Woman to take her destiny in her own hands and not allow it to be determined solely on the basis of her gender. She’d taken its teachings to heart. And thus far she was deservedly proud of her performance. She’d managed to not allow her lips to run amok, although it had required some effort, as she tended to babble when unsettled, and damnation, the man unsettled her.

Victoria raised her chin and straightened her shoulders. She was a Modern Woman. And as such, she would gather her fortitude, recall with whom she was dealing, and put her plan into action. She was not the same naive girl Dr. Oliver had met three years ago. Her inner voice warned her that unfortunately he was the same devastatingly attractive man she‘d met. But she could easily resist him. She knew the sort of cad he was. And he would soon know she was not a woman to be trifled with. She took comfort in the fact that she was going into battle well-armed with her Ladies’ Guide and a foolproof plan.

The gravel drive crunched beneath her shoes, yanking her from her thoughts. She jerked her gaze away from Dr. Oliver’s back to look up at the majesty that was Creston Manor and could not deny her surprised pleasure at the grandness of the house. Two impressive stone stairways curved gracefully downward, appearing like welcoming arms to embrace any and all who approached the massive double oak doors. The windows gleamed, reflecting gilded sunshine, and the aged brick and soaring white columns lent the structure an air of old world charm that appealed to Victoria’s sense of proportion.

Settling her hand on the glossy black, wrought-iron banister, she climbed the stairs behind Dr. Oliver. She looked up and found herself staring at his backside. One would have had to been blind-and her eyesight was exceptionally keen-not to notice how his breeches hugged his muscular legs. How those muscles flexed with each stair tread he climbed. The trimness of his hips. The broadness of his back. The fascinating shape of his… bottom.

How utterly aggravating that he looked as marvelous from the back as from the front. How incredibly irritating that in spite of being filthy, sweaty, and smelling as if he’d spent the day cavorting in a dirty barn, she still had to grip the banister tighter to quell the overwhelming desire to reach out and touch him.

And how completely unsettling and frustrating that her heart had stumbled into an erratic beat the instant she’d seen him. Just as it had the first time she laid eyes on him three years ago. Botheration. What on earth was wrong with her? Clearly the long journey had addled her wits, for Dr. Oliver’s unkempt appearance alone proved that he was no more of a gentleman than when they’d last met. Well, once she’d had a bath, changed her clothes, and enjoyed a hot meal and a good night’s rest in a proper bed, she’d be set back to rights.

But, there was no denying that Dr. Oliver was still devilishly attractive. Perhaps more so. ‘Twas fortunate that she knew what sort of ill-mannered man he was, lest her head might have been turned. Yet, during those few seconds when they’d studied each other, she’d noted that there was something different about him… something in his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. Shadows… of hurts, perhaps. Or secrets. If it had been anyone else, she would have felt sorry for the person. Indeed, a fissure of sympathy had nearly worked its way into her heart before she’d squashed it like a bug. If he had hurts, he no doubt deserved them. And as for secrets, well, that was fine. She had some secrets of her own.

She looked up and was once again treated to the sight of Dr. Oliver’s backside. Left, right, left, right, flex, flex… heavens, how many steps were there? She yanked her gaze away from his far too fascinating bottom and noted with relief that only five steps remained. When he reached the top, Dr. Oliver turned and paused, clearly waiting for Aunt Delia, who was maneuvering the stairs at a slower pace. Victoria stopped as well, and was disconcerted to find herself standing no more than three feet away from him. And the fact that she was disconcerted only added to her irritation. How was it that despite his dishevelment she couldn’t seem to pull her gaze from him? Certainly if she were dirty, rumpled, and smelled like she’d cavorted in the barn no one would mistake her for attractive.