“Are you all right, Lady Victoria?” he asked. “You look flushed.”

She gifted him with one of the cool, detached looks she’d diligently practiced in the cheval glass for just this occasion. “I’m fine, Dr. Oliver.”

“I hope climbing the stairs wasn’t too taxing for you.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and she realized he was making sport of her. Obviously believed she was nothing more than a hothouse flower. Arrogant beast.

“Certainly not. I’m perfectly fit. Indeed, I daresay I could sprint up these steps without losing my breath.” She fought the urge to clap her hand over her mouth. Damnation, she’d meant to say nothing more than certainly not.

He cocked a single dark brow and appeared wholly amused. “A feat I look forward to witnessing, my lady.”

“I was speaking metaphorically, Dr. Oliver. As I cannot imagine a scenario that would lead me to sprint anywhere, let alone up the stairs, I fear you shall witness no such thing.”

“You might sprint if you were being pursued.”

“By whom? The devil himself?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps an ardent admirer.”

She laughed, and mentally applauded the carefree sound. “None of my admirers would act in such an undignified, ungentlemanly manner. But even if, for some bizarre reason, they should, I’m confident I could outrun them, as I’m very agile and fleet of foot.”

“What if you didn’t wish to?”

“Didn’t wish to what?”

“Outrun him?”

“Well, then, I suppose I would be-”

“Caught?”

Victoria stilled at the intense expression in his eyes, which was at complete odds with his lighthearted tone. She pressed her lips together to stem the torrent of nervous words that pooled in her throat and noted how his gaze flicked to her mouth. Heat snaked through her and she had to swallow to find her voice. “Caught,” she agreed, thankful her voice was steady. “But not captured.”

“Indeed? That almost sounds like a challenge.”

Triumph rippled through her. Tantalize him with a challenge… Excellent! The first step of her plan was already in motion, and she’d only just arrived. At this rate she would accomplish her goal in record time. Why, she might even make it back to London before the Little Season ended.

Lifting her chin a notch, she said, “You may take it however you wish, Dr. Oliver.”

Whatever he might have replied was silenced by Aunt Delia’s arrival. “This way, ladies,” he murmured, leading them to the door.

You may lead me into the house, Dr. Oliver, but rest assured, ‘tis I who intend to lead you on a merry chase. Then blithely walk away, as you did three years ago.

Four

Today’s Modern Woman must rebel against the notion that a lady should conceal her intelligence from men. Embrace knowledge and strive to learn something new every day. Rejoice in your intelligence, do not keep it a secret. Only a foolish man would desire a foolish woman.


A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore


Nathan sat at the mahogany dining room table feeling very much like the prodigal son. Actually, the prodigal son science experiment who dwelled beneath a microscope with five pairs of eyeballs trained upon him. Every time he looked at anyone, he discovered their gaze already upon him. And all that while trussed up like a fatted goose in the damned formal clothes dinner in the dining room demanded. The instant this meal ended he was going to rip the confining cravat from his throat and toss the damn neck cloth into the fireplace. But of course, he first had to get through this interminable, awkward meal.

A footman topped off his wineglass and he took a grateful sip, barely squelching the urge to toss back the entire glass in a series of long gulps. He chanced to glance around the table and was relieved to note that for the first time since he’d sat down he wasn’t the cynosure of all eyes. Lady Delia, who sat on his right, was engaged in a lively discussion with his father, who was seated on her right at the head of the table.

His gaze then flicked to the trio who sat across from him-Colin, Lady Victoria, and Gordon Remming, who’d come into his title since Nathan had seen him last on that fateful night three years ago and was now the Earl of Alwyck. Gordon’s shining golden blond head was bent close to Lady Victoria, as if she imparted some diamond of wisdom he couldn’t bear to miss. Lady Victoria, who sat between Gordon and Colin, appeared to be enjoying herself immensely, smiling, chatting, laughing. No doubt because both men were showering her with compliments and attention. Bloody hell, one would think neither of them had ever seen an attractive female before. And all this for the woman he was supposed to watch over. Well, the instant he’d satisfied his obligation to her father, Colin and Gordon were welcome to her.

His gaze settled on Gordon, and the guilt and regret he’d strived so hard to bury catapulted to the surface. Gordon’s greeting had been reserved, but when Nathan had extended his hand, Gordon accepted the gesture, albeit after a brief hesitation. Nathan clearly read the lingering suspicion in Gordon’s eyes, but he hadn’t expected anything less.

“I saw the animal pen you constructed, Nathan,” Father said, jerking his attention away from the laughing trio across the table. “Impressive bit of work.”

“Thank you,” he replied, surprised and pleased by the praise.

“Of course, it wouldn’t be necessary for you to dirty your hands in such a manner if you were paid properly for your services.”

Nathan merely shrugged off the backhanded side of the compliment. “I enjoy working with my hands. Keeps my fingers nimble.”

“They won’t remain nimble if you smash them with a hammer,” Father said, “or if one of those beasts bite you.”

“Animal pen?” chimed in Lady Delia, her eyes alight with curiosity. “Beasts?”

“Since settling in Little Longstone, I’ve accumulated a bit of a menagerie,” Nathan explained. The conversation on the opposite side of the table ceased, and he again felt the weight of those stares. One vivid blue one, in particular, he felt most aware of.

“Cats and dogs?” asked Lady Delia.

“More like a pig and hens, but I also have a dog-”

“Who is the size of a pony,” broke in Colin.

“-and a cat-”

“Which is a kitten who has already required being rescued from a tree,” Colin added. “Not to mention a cow, a lamb, a pair of ducks, I’m not certain how many geese, and an incorrigible button-eating goat-most of which are named after flowers. They are loud, smelly, fond of chasing one about the grounds-when they’re not chewing off one’s buttons or decapitating the flower beds-and Nathan loves them as if they were his own children.”

“Thank you for that edifying description… Uncle Colin.”

Colin shook his head. “I refuse to be an uncle to that beastly goat.”

“Petunia is very fond of you.”

Colin glared. “She ate my button. And my personal correspondence.”

“Only because she loves you,” Nathan said very seriously. “And I didn’t hear you complaining this morning when you feasted on eggs courtesy of Daffodil, Tulip, and Guinevere.”

Colin lifted a brow. “Guinevere? I suppose you have a rooster named Lancelot?”

“No, but that is an excellent suggestion and one I plan to follow up on as soon as I return to Little Longstone so as to increase my flock. Three hens will produce an average of two eggs per day. That means to get a dozen eggs a day, I would need-”

“Eighteen hens,” said Lady Victoria. Everyone turned toward her but she seemed unaware of their surprised looks, her gaze resting on Nathan. “You must be very fond of eggs, Dr. Oliver.”

Was that a whiff of sarcasm in her voice? Nathan returned her steady look. “Actually, I am, however, even I couldn’t hope to consume however many eggs that would produce in a year.”

Lady Victoria blinked twice, then said, “Four thousand three hundred and eighty.”

Everyone chuckled at her quick wit for tossing out a random number-except, Nathan noticed, Lady Delia, who, from the corner of his eye, he could see was simply nodding in an approving manner. He performed a quick calculation, and to his surprise realized Lady Victoria had been correct.

“At the rate Nathan collects animals, he’ll most likely accumulate that many chickens before the year is over,” Colin said, shaking his head.

“Why would you want so many eggs, Dr. Oliver?” Lady Victoria asked.

“No doubt to throw from his window at unsuspecting passersby,” Colin said dryly. “I was his victim a time or two when we were lads. Had the most dastardly accurate aim.” He rubbed the back of his head and winced, as if in remembrance.

“I still do,” Nathan said to his brother, although his gaze remained steadily on Lady Victoria. “And I never pelted you unless you deserved it.”

“I never hit you with an egg.”

“Because you couldn’t.” He pulled his gaze from Lady Victoria and smirked at his brother. “Your aim is such that you could not hit water if you fell out of a boat. Which, by the way, is precisely why I pelted you with eggs on one occasion-you pushed me out of the rowboat.”

“And did you hit the water?”

“Obviously.”

“Ah. Thereby proving that I can indeed hit water.”

“Yes-when I fell out of the boat-I who possess not only flawless aim, but a trio of egg-laying hens.”

The ghost of a smile hiked up one corner of Colin’s mouth and a look born of many shared memories passed between them. “Touchй,” Colin murmured. “I’ll think twice before pushing you from the rowboat again.” He grinned. “Actually, I thought about it twice the last time I did it, and both times it seemed a capital idea.”