Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04] (4 page)

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.

“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
.

N
athan 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. “Touché,” 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.”

Everyone chuckled, then Lady Victoria said, “But you never said why you would want so many eggs, Dr. Oliver.”

Nathan shrugged. “I’ve a number of neighbors with large families who could make good use of them.”

“Why on earth do you keep such a barnyard of animals,” Gordon asked, “and why bring them here?”

“The question we have all asked, I assure you,” Father muttered.

“I wasn’t certain how long I would be away and I didn’t wish to impose such responsibility on my neighbors. Nor did I wish to split the animals up, sending some to one neighbor, some to another. They’re all quite accustomed to each other. Besides, the animals are really no trouble. In fact, I greatly enjoy their company.”

“They
smell
,” Colin said. He turned to Lady Victoria. “You’d be wise to give those beasts a wide berth, Lady Victoria. Especially the goat. If you see the beast, I recommend running in the opposite direction.”

“Actually, running will only tempt her to chase you,” Nathan said, looking at Lady Victoria over the rim of his wineglass. “While I recall you saying that you are a capable sprinter, I fear you would not be able to outrun a goat as easily as a persistent suitor.”

“I imagine you must have dozens of persistent suitors to outrun,” Gordon said to Lady Victoria with a warm smile, which for some reason irked Nathan.

A mischievous smile that brought back a flood of memories curved her lips. “’Tis how I became such a proficient sprinter, my lord.”

Everyone chuckled, although Nathan’s laughter felt a bit forced. He vividly recalled her looking at him in that precise same way three years ago. It was a look that had led to a kiss he’d hadn’t, to this day, been able to erase from his mind.

“But the sprinting is about to end, is it not, my dear?” Lady Delia asked.

A rosy blush bloomed on Lady Victoria’s cheeks, but before she could answer, Gordon pressed his hand to his chest as if mortally wounded, then, in a teasingly dramatic
fashion said, “Please don’t say you’re betrothed.”

“I’m not—”

“Excellent news,” said Gordon, smiling.

“—yet.”

“And like that…” Gordon snapped his fingers. “…the news is not so excellent. So tell us, who is the lucky gentleman to whom you are not betrothed…yet?”

“Either Lord Branripple or Lord Dravensby.”

Nathan’s brow crept upward. “Egad. Branripple and Dravensby? They’re still alive?”

Lady Victoria sent him a glacial look. “You must be thinking of their fathers, as I believe Lord Branripple is actually a year younger than you, Dr. Oliver. And Lord Dravensby only several years older.”

“Ah. So they’ve both offered for you, have they?”

“They’ve both approached my father, yes.”

“Well, as worthy as those two gentlemen are, since you are not yet engaged,” Gordon said, “you should consider that there are eligible noblemen right here in Cornwall.”

Nathan barely repressed the urge to look heavenward. Bloody hell, Gordon might as well have said
there are eligible noblemen right in here Cornwall, right here in this very room, sitting right next to you
. A becoming blush flooded Lady Victoria’s cheeks, and Nathan decided he knew precisely how a cat felt when it was petted the wrong way. Right after it had been tossed into a tub of water.

“Yes,” Colin added, with an unmistakable gleam in his eye, “there are eligible noblemen right here in Cornwall.”

Humph. Obviously both Gordon and Colin had fallen under whatever sort of spell Lady Victoria weaved. More fools they—although it clearly wouldn’t be difficult at all to foist Lady Victoria off. Surely that realization should have pleased him immensely. Instead it was accompanied
by an unsettling sensation that resembled a cramp. And suddenly Nathan realized for the second time that day that a man should be careful what he wished for, as he might just get it.

He picked up his wineglass, focused his attention on the smooth claret, and firmly shoved aside the inexplicably irritating image of Colin and Gordon vying for Lady Victoria’s attention. Their houseguest had in her possession information he needed. It was time for him to retrieve it so as to determine exactly what he was dealing with—aside from an irritating hothouse flower who was supposedly in danger.

When the meal ended, the party moved to the drawing room for cards and postdinner drinks. After assuring that everyone was comfortably ensconced and occupied, Nathan claimed a headache and retired. Indeed, his head was aching from watching Colin and Gordon vie for Lady Victoria’s favor—and from witnessing Lady Victoria’s flirtatious response to both of them.

He walked down the thickly carpeted corridor, passed by his own bedchamber, and quickly continued on. When he stood in front of Lady Victoria’s bedchamber, he pressed his ear to the door. Satisfied by the silence that her maid was not inside, he entered. After silently closing the door, he leaned back against the oak panel and allowed his gaze to sweep over the room. Mrs. Henshaw had given Lady Victoria the blue guest chamber that had always been his favorite, as the color reminded him of the sea, especially during the summer when the pale aqua of the shallows near the beach slowly deepened into indigo near the horizon.

Even though she’d only arrived a few hours ago, Lady Victoria had already established her presence in the spa
cious room. A half-dozen books were stacked on the bedside table. An ornate jewelry case rested on the mahogany dresser, alongside a polished silver hairbrush and a delicate glass vial, no doubt containing perfume. The thought of her perfume had him drawing a deep breath. A tantalizing, elusive whiff of her fragrance clung in the air, but it was enough to bring a vivid image of her into sharp focus. Roses. She smelled of roses, but in the most subtle, delicate of ways, as if instead of dabbing on perfume she’d merely brushed the velvety flower petals over her soft skin.

His gaze riveted on those feminine accoutrements, and, as if in a trance, he crossed the Axminster rug to the dresser. Unable to stop himself, he carefully lifted her hairbrush and slowly ran the pad of his thumb over the bristles. Several long strands of her dark hair remained entwined in the coarse bristles, and he stared at them, instantly recalling the sensation of her lustrous locks slipping through his fingers while his mouth explored hers.

After replacing the brush, he slowly lifted the glass vial. The instant he removed the stopper, the delicate scent of her filled his head. A groan rose in his throat and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, but it proved a weak defense against the intense memory slamming into him. Of skimming his lips over her satin smooth skin, breathing in the subtle scent that could only be detected when mere inches separated them. Since that night three years ago, every time he’d smelled roses, he instantly thought of her. Every bloody damn time. He quickly discovered, to his annoyance, that England was apparently overrun with roses.

He inhaled again and this time couldn’t suppress his groan. Luscious curves pressed against him…her slim
fingers gliding through the hair at his nape…the delicious, seductive taste of her against his tongue—

Muttering an obscenity he rarely allowed to cross his lips, Nathan snapped his eyes opened and jabbed the stopper back into the vial. He set the glass back on the dresser as if it had burned him, then quickly withdrew his handkerchief to wipe away any remnants of her fragrance that might have clung to him. As the memory of her and their kiss clung to him.