Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04] (2 page)

Her common sense demanded that she be appalled at her shocking behavior, at the liberties she’d allowed him, but her heart was having none of it. How could she be expected to think clearly when, for the first time in her life, all she wanted to do was
feel
? She hadn’t allowed any of the numerous gentlemen who’d sought her favor during the Season to kiss her. She’d dreamed of her first kiss—indeed had carefully planned the entire scenario, as she did with everything in her life—it was to take place in the formal gardens, after the gentleman had asked for and been granted her permission. But in an instant all her plans evaporated into a wisp of steam. Never in her wildest imaginings had she conjured up anything like the incredible, magical moments she’d shared with Dr. Oliver. She couldn’t wait to see him again, and after what they’d shared, she knew he would contact her.

She had never been more wrong in her life. She’d never seen nor heard from him again.

Now, looking out the carriage window at the endless verdant hills dotted with thatched roof cottages marking yet another small village, Victoria closed her eyes and inwardly cringed at how foolish she’d been, at the idiotic expectant hope that had ruled her for weeks afterward. She had searched for him at every soiree, waited impatiently for the daily delivery of letters, jumped every time the brass door knocker sounded, announcing a caller. The truth she’d been too blind to see didn’t finally hit her until one morning at breakfast, six weeks after Dr. Oliver had stolen that kiss, when she casually brought up his name to her father. In a single sentence Father had squashed all her hopes. Dr. Oliver had returned to Cornwall the morning after visiting the town house and had no intention of returning to London.

She still vividly recalled the fever of humiliation that had scorched her. What a fool she’d been! Here she’d hinged all these romantic, heroic ideals on a man who was nothing more than a cad! A man who had kissed her senseless with no intention of ever even speaking to her again. A man who had stolen her first kiss, a kiss that to this day she’d never been able to erase from her mind, whereas he no doubt would not even recall the exchange. It was the first time in Victoria’s life she had ever been so summarily dismissed, treated so shabbily, and she had not liked it one bit. Rude, insufferable man. He may have been born a gentleman, but clearly his education and moral fiber were severely lacking, for he possessed no manners
at all
.

Well, by the time she left Cornwall, he would remember her. She’d been young and dazzled, and he’d clearly been experienced enough to know he was taking advantage of her naiveté. He’d toyed with her in a way she surely would have forgiven and accepted the blame for if only she’d been able to forget him. The idea of revenge had never occurred to her until this unwanted trip at her father’s request had come up, coupled with her recent acquisition of the
Ladies’ Guide
. But thanks to both, she would now see to it that Dr. Oliver was forgotten. The
Ladies’ Guide
advised avenging such cads, then burying them in the past where they belonged, and she had every intention of doing so. She would flirt with him and kiss him as ruthlessly as he’d done to her, then abruptly depart, leaving
him
with memories that haunted the long, dark hours between nightfall and dawn. She’d blithely return to London and marry one of her earls, the entire Dr. Oliver episode finally behind her. Yes, it was an excellent plan.

Aunt Delia’s voice pulled her attention away from the scenery. “According to your father, Dr. Oliver is a very fine physician, an assessment I’m sure is correct.”

“Why is that?”

Her aunt’s eyes twinkled. “’Twas obvious he’d have an excellent bedside manner. Your father also mentioned Dr. Oliver’s interest in scientific matters.”

Victoria barely suppressed the grimace that tugged at her lips. Most likely he enjoyed pinning the wings of insects to boards and such. And as for his profession? Humph. Just further proof that he wasn’t a true gentleman, for no true gentleman would pursue a trade.

The coach slowed to a crawl, and the coachman’s deep, booming voice rang out, “Ye can see the side view of Creston Manor, beyond those tall trees on the right, my ladies. Just need to follow this road around to the front. We’ll be arriving within the quarter hour.”

The conveyance then resumed a brisker pace, and Victoria and her aunt craned their necks to look out the window. As they moved past the trees, an impressive manor house came into view. The brick facade, faded to a delicate creamy rose, appeared to glow in the soft gilding of golden, late afternoon sunshine. Nestled amongst soaring trees and emerald lawns, Creston Manor looked at once inviting and imposing. From her advantageous side view, Victoria could see the formal gardens and stables in the rear, and a sparkling blue pond in the front that reflected both the surrounding trees and the house, the building’s austere design softened by the rippling water.

A movement near the stables caught Victoria’s attention, and she leaned forward. Two men stood near the open stable doors. One of them, a gentleman with dark
hair, was dressed in riding attire. He seemed to be speaking to the other man, who was clearly a servant, as he was shirtless and held what appeared to be a hammer.

Victoria’s gaze fastened on the man’s bare back, which even from a distance she could see was broad and gleamed with a sheen of sweat. Warmth crept up her cheeks, and although she tried to force herself to look away, her suddenly stubborn gaze refused to move. But certainly only because she was scandalized. Of course. The servants at her family’s country estate would never go about their chores half naked. She couldn’t help but wonder what the man looked like from the front, given that the rear view was so very…captivating.

Aunt Delia raised her quizzing glass. “I do believe the dark-haired gentleman is Lord Sutton.”

Victoria forced her gaze back to the other man, then nodded. “Yes, I believe you are correct.”

“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.

N
athan 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.”

“Infrequently.”

“My time was consumed with finding a place to settle. Establishing myself.”

“Which happened to be three hundred miles from here.”

“Yes. In a place where no one knew me. Where no one knew what happened.”

“Leaving as you did only made you look more guilty.”

“Everyone believed me guilty anyway, so I cannot see that it mattered.”

They exchanged a long, measuring look. Then Colin said, “I was surprised that you gave up so easily. That you didn’t fight to clear your name. You’d never before been a quitter.”

“Well, I guess you didn’t know me as well as you believed.”

“Apparently not.”

“Or I you.” Another look passed between them, then Nathan said, “At least at a distance of three hundred miles I’m not subjected to the whispers and stares. Which is one reason my ‘beasts,’ as you call them, are so important to me. They care nothing of my past. They do not judge me. They can’t hurt me.”

“And that is how you wish to live? Feeling nothing?”

“Avoiding rejection and pain is not the same as feeling nothing.”

“It’s been three years, Nathan. It’s time for you to move on.”

“I have.”

“I meant more than geographically.”

“And I have. It’s just that this place…being here is…difficult.” His gaze dropped to Colin’s leg, which he knew bore scars. “Have you so easily forgotten?”

“Of course not. And neither has Gordon. But neither Gordon nor I have allowed what happened to rule us.”

Nathan nearly flinched at the name. Gordon…Earl of Alywck…boyhood friend and neighbor. Another man who’d almost lost his life, whose body bore scars because of that final disastrous mission for the Crown.
Because of me
…

“Neither of you were accused of stealing the jewels. Neither of you lost your honor. Your reputation.”
Lost everything
. “Neither of you were responsible for…” Nathan’s voice trailed off and he clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ached.

“You saved my life, Nathan. Gordon’s as well.”

A bitter sound erupted from Nathan. Yes, he’d succeeded in repairing the physical damage, but he’d failed in so many other ways. Ways he had no desire to think about or relive. He’d never forget the accusing doubt in Colin’s eyes. And it was no less than he deserved.

Determined to steer the conversation back onto lighter topics, he said, “I suppose our guests will be arriving today.”

Colin stared at him for several seconds, then slowly nodded, clearly taking the hint. Excellent. Nathan had endured all the reminiscing he could stand for one day.

“Yes. Lady Victoria and her aunt are expected today,” Colin agreed. “Lady Victoria…can’t say that I recall her very well, other than a vague remembrance that she was remarkably pretty.”

Years of practice allowed Nathan to keep his features perfectly composed. He remembered Lady Victoria only too well. “Probably you don’t remember her because on the occasion we were together you abandoned the chit to me while you spoke to her aunt, Lord Wexhall’s sister.”

“Hmmm, yes. No doubt you’re correct. Lady Delia was quite an entertaining character as I recall.”

“Not that I would know,” Nathan said with a pointed look, “as I was the one with Lady Victoria foisted upon him.”

“Foisted? Odd, I seem to recall that you rather commandeered her and asked her to show you the ghastly family portraits.” Colin nodded slowly, and Nathan well
recognized the gleam in his brother’s eyes. And it suddenly struck him how much he’d missed it. “I also recall that your feathers were quite ruffled after your, um, conversation with the lovely Lady Victoria.”

Nathan slammed the door on the flood of memories that demanded entrance. “Nothing of the sort. I simply did not enjoy conversing with a supercilious child.” He dispassionately marveled at his ability to still lie so effortlessly. Clearly some things never changed. Yet, the hollow ache in his gut indicated that perhaps the lying wasn’t achieved so effortlessly after all.

“Conversing? Is that what you were doing in that dimly lit room that rendered your hair mussed? And at eighteen, Lady Victoria was hardly a child,” Colin said, the gleam glowing brighter.

“She certainly behaved like one, chattering inanely about the weather and fashion.”

“Well now, at twenty-one, even by your standards she is a child no longer. And Lord Wexhall is sending her here. According to his note, he expects you to look after her. How very interesting.”

“And how precisely would you know what my note from Lord Wexhall contained?”

“I read it.”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to do so.”

“I’m certain you meant to, as you left it lying on a table in the library.”

“I’m certain I did no such thing.” Damn Colin and his superior pickpocketing skills. Well, he might be light-fingered, but an expert cipher he was not. Even if he’d studied Lord Wexhall’s missive at length, he wouldn’t have been able to decode the secret message it contained. Guilt pricked Nathan for not sharing the hidden contents
of Lord Wexhall’s note with Colin, but he wanted to wait until he had further information before doing so. No point in dragging Colin into a situation that could potentially be dangerous until he knew exactly what the situation was.

Colin waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Perhaps it was a table in the drawing room. How did Lord Wexhall put it in his letter? Oh, yes. ‘I expect you to take care of Victoria and see that no harm comes to her,’” he recited in a sonorous voice. “I wonder what sort of harm he believes might befall her?”

“Probably thinks she’ll wander off and fall from a cliff. Or overspend in the village shops.”

Colin cocked an eloquent brow. “Perhaps. Note how he said
you
. Note how I was not mentioned
at all
. The chit is completely
your
responsibility. Of course, if she’s as lovely as I recall, I perhaps could be persuaded to assist you in looking after her.”

Nathan blamed the heat that scorched him on the unseasonably warm afternoon. Bloody hell, this conversation was bringing on the headache. “Excellent. Allow me to persuade you. I’ll give you one hundred pounds if you’ll watch over her,” Nathan offered in a light tone completely at odds with the tension consuming him.