Love and the Single Heiress

Chapter 9

If Today’s Modern Woman wishes for her gentleman to express more passion, she should boldly explain to him that while a kiss upon the hand can be employed to demonstrate fervent regard, it is not the most effective method as it can also symbolize nothing more than a sign of brotherly or sisterly fondness. It is nearly impossible, however, to misinterpret the meaning behind a kiss on the lips. Or the nape. Or the spine…

A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore

After a fitful night, which she firmly attributed to her worries about the shooting, Catherine put her avoid-and-ignore strategy into immediate effect by taking an early, solitary breakfast in her bedchamber. She knew Spencer would not be about so early, and she had no intention of risking a cozy breakfast with only Mr. Stanton for company. After her meal, Catherine spent the remainder of the morning sitting at her desk, catching up on her correspondence. When she finished, she dressed carefully, relieved that the ache in her arm had faded so as to be barely noticeable. She spent extra time on her appearance, and told herself it was because she wished to appear presentable when she visited Genevieve this afternoon.

Deciding it was well past the time to check on Spencer, who surely would have arisen by now, and perform polite hostess duties toward Mr. Stanton, she headed downstairs, looking forward to a cup of tea.

When she entered the foyer, she was immediately greeted by Milton, who held out a silver salver bearing a sealed note.

“This just arrived from London, my lady.”

Catherine’s heart quickened as she recognized her father’s distinctive bold, cursive scrawl. Deciding the tea could wait, she took the note, nodded her thanks, then headed directly back to her bedchamber. The instant she closed the door behind her, she broke the seal and scanned the contents.

Dear Catherine,

I am happy to report that the scoundrel who fired the shot last night has been apprehended. The man, a ruffian by the name of Billy Robbins, is well-known to the magistrate for perpetrating robberies in Mayfair and elsewhere. Thanks to the information provided by Mr. Carmichael, Robbins was identified and captured near the docks. As we suspected, you were the victim of a robbery gone awry. Robbins, of course, insists he is innocent, but as we all know, Newgate is filled with “innocent” men.

While this news cannot erase the harrowing ordeal you suffered, you at least now have the satisfaction of knowing that the culprit responsible can no longer hurt anyone. Please extend my regards to Spencer and Mr. Stanton, and I look forward to seeing you all again soon.

With love,

Your father

Catherine closed her eyes and blew out a sigh of heartfelt relief. It had been an accident. Thank God. She was not in danger. Nor was Spencer. Nor Genevieve. Charles Brightmore’s identity was safe. Yes, there was still that investigator Lord Markingworth and his friends had hired, but since the publisher of A Ladies’ Guide would never reveal her and Genevieve’s secret, the man would eventually have to admit defeat. The chances of his investigation leading him to Little Longstone were so minute as to be nonexistent.

She opened her eyes, smiled, and drew in what felt like her first easy breath since she’d secreted herself behind her father’s Oriental screen. Now her life could resume its tranquil course, without threat of danger. Without need of protection-

Without need of Mr. Stanton.

Her smile froze. She no longer required the protection and security his presence afforded. He could leave Little Longstone. Right away-although she supposed it would be insupportably rude to suggest he depart sooner than tomorrow morning. And since she rarely traveled to London, she need not worry about seeing him again in the near future.

Mr. Stanton’s imminent departure was good. Very good. No more necessity for avoid-and-ignore tactics. The man was a blight on her peaceful existence, and the sooner he departed for London, the better. She was happy. Ecstatically so.

Her inner voice coughed to life to inform her she’d somehow managed to confuse “ecstatically happy” with “utterly miserable.”

Botheration, she needed to find a way to somehow muzzle that damnable voice.

“May I have a moment of your time, Mr. Stanton?”

Andrew paused at the top of the staircase. He gripped the mahogany banister and suppressed a sigh at the way his heart skipped a beat at the mere sound of her voice.

He’d spent the entire morning-not to mention a number of the predawn hours when sleep had eluded him- replaying the wonder of last evening in his mind. Sharing a meal and silly stories with her and Spencer, laughing together, enjoying after-dinner games-it was a cozy, domestic scenario he’d played out in his dreams more times than he could count. And the reality had exceeded all his imaginary expectations. By God, he couldn’t wait to repeat the experience tonight.

And every night, for the rest of their lives.

Had she noticed how well the three of them fit together? How very right last night had been? Well, if it had somehow escaped her notice, he certainly intended to remedy that tonight.

Turning, he watched her approach. An artful array of chestnut curls framed her face in a becoming style that made her golden brown eyes appear luminous. Her pale peach muslin gown highlighted her creamy skin. The gown and its neckline were properly modest, yet rather than inspiring propriety, Andrew’s imagination ran wild with what delights her demure clothing covered.

As she neared him, the subtle scent of flowers invaded his senses, and he tightened his grip on the banister to keep from reaching out to touch her.

“You may have as many moments as you wish, Lady Catherine.”

“Thank you. In the library?”

“Wherever you wish.” Whenever you wish. However you wish. Whatever you wish. He clenched his jaw to contain the words that threatened to break free of his heart. This was hardly the time or place to blurt out that he was madly in love with her, desired her to the point of pain, and wanted nothing more than to grant her every wish.

He followed her down the stairs and through the corridor, admiring the subtle hints of feminine curves revealed when she walked. His gaze wandered upward and fastened on her vulnerable, smooth nape, left bare by her upswept coiffure-bare except for a single curl that bisected her pale skin with a shiny chestnut spiral.

His fingers flexed, and he locked his elbows to keep from reaching out to glide his fingertip over that beguiling solitary curl. So intent was he on looking at the tendril, he didn’t notice that she’d paused in front of a closed door. Didn’t notice until he walked right into her.

She gasped and reached out, pressing her palms against the oak panel to maintain her balance and keep from plunging headlong into the door. His hands came forward and slipped around her waist.

For several stunning seconds neither moved. Andrew’s mind shouted at him to release her, to step back, but his hands and feet refused to obey the command. Instead, his eyes slid closed, and he absorbed the intense pleasure of her body pressing against his from chest to thigh. Her scent, that alluring essence of flowers, surrounded him like a seductive cloud. He had only to turn his head slightly to press his lips to her fragrant skin that was so close… so tantalizingly close.

Before he could think, before any reason why he shouldn’t invaded his mind, he gave in to the overwhelming longing. His lips touched the ivory skin just behind her ear, gentle as a breathless whisper, so softly he wondered if she even realized what he’d done-and that it was done deliberately.

But he knew, and the effect upon him, the assault on his senses, was anything but soft. Desire-fierce, hot, and so long denied-slammed into him, and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter in a vain attempt to curb the needs clawing at him.

Her utter stillness, the rigid set of her spine, roused his common sense. Summoning all his strength, he forced himself to slip his hands from her waist and step back. “I beg your pardon,” he said in an unsteady voice that sounded as if he’d swallowed gravel. “I was not watching where I was going.”

She said nothing for several seconds, then cleared her throat and lowered her hands from the door. “Apology accepted.”

He stilled at the slight quaver in her voice. Was the unsteadiness of her words the result of embarrassment or anger? Or was it possible that she’d been as affected by those few seconds as he? He silently willed her to turn around, so he could look at her face, read her eyes, to see if any hint of desire existed, but she did not oblige him. Instead, she opened the door and quickly headed toward the marble fireplace lining the far wall.

Andrew crossed the threshold, then closed the door behind him. The click reverberated in the heavy silence, a silence he was sorely tempted to break by pointing out that his begging her pardon had not been an apology. He certainly wasn’t sorry he’d had the unexpected opportunity to touch her-although perhaps he should be. The exquisite feel of her was now embedded in his mind, and his body, his lips, still tingled from the impact.

He grimaced and shifted. Although it irked him that she continued to stare into the low-burning flames and ignore him, it was for the best. If she turned around right now, she would surely notice just how much their brief encounter had affected him.

“Would you mind if I have a drink?” he asked, hoping one of the group of crystal decanters set on the round, mahogany table next to the settee contained brandy.

She did not turn. “Please, help yourself.”

“Would you care to join me?”

She surprised him by saying, “Yes. A sherry, please.”

Andrew crossed to the decanters. He took his time pouring the two drinks, pulling in slow, deep breaths until he’d gained control of his emotions and body. He then walked to the fireplace, stopping a safe distance away from her.

“Your sherry, Lady Catherine.”

She finally turned to face him. Hectic color stained her cheeks, but whether the beguiling hue was due to embarrassment, the warmth of the fire, or desire, he couldn’t tell. She regarded him with a perfectly calm, cool expression that snaked irritation down his spine. Well, obviously it hadn’t been desire. Trying his best to match her unconcerned look, he handed her the crystal cordial glass.

“Thank you.” She took the glass, and he noted that she was very careful to not allow their fingers to touch. She shifted her gaze from him and sipped her drink. He followed suit, resisting the urge to toss back his potent brandy in one gulp.

After taking a second sip, she slipped a piece of ivory vellum from the pocket in her skirts and held it out for him. “This arrived a short time ago from my father. The man responsible for the shooting has been apprehended.”

Andrew set down his drink, took the note, then quickly scanned the contents. Billy Robbins. His jaw tightened when he read the name of the man who’d injured Catherine. The man who could have so easily ended her life. Be happy Newgate has you and not me, you bastard.

When he finished reading, he handed her back the note. “I’m relieved the scoundrel was caught. Thank goodness Mr. Carmichael was so observant.”

“Yes. We all owe him our thanks.” She tucked the note back in her pocket. “As this man’s capture means that there is no longer a threat of danger to me-”

“No longer?” Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “I was not aware there was a threat of danger to you. What are you talking about?”

A flicker of what looked like fear flashed in her eyes, but disappeared so quickly he couldn’t decide if it was real or imagined. She pressed her lips together for several seconds, then said, “I meant there is no longer a threat of danger to my health. I’m feeling very well, and Milton and my staff can fully see to my needs. Without any assistance.”

Understanding dawned, along with a healthy dose of annoyance, and, damn it, hurt. She wanted him to leave Little Longstone.

“I can arrange to have my carriage at your disposal tomorrow morning,” she continued. “While I appreciate your kindness and thank you for escorting me home, I wouldn’t want you to sacrifice any more of your valuable time away from your work in London.”

Before Andrew could think of a suitable reply-having wisely decided that Hell no, I’m not leaving was not suitable-a knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” Lady Catherine said.

The door opened, and Spencer shuffled into the room. His smile faded as his gaze bounced between his mother and Andrew. “Is something amiss, Mum?”

She appeared to square her shoulders, then offered Spencer a smile. “No, darling. Did you need to speak to me?”

Spencer looked clearly unconvinced. Instead of answering his mother’s question, he asked, “What were you just talking about?”

Lady Catherine set down her drink, then crossed the pale green Axminster rug to bestow a kiss upon Spencer’s cheek. “Transportation arrangements. Mr. Stanton will be leaving us tomorrow to return to London.”

“Leaving? Tomorrow?” There was no mistaking the boy’s dismay. He turned toward Andrew and gazed at him with eyes brimming with confusion and hurt. “But why? He only arrived yesterday.”

Lady Catherine said, “Mr. Stanton has many responsibilities in London, Spencer, even more with your uncle Philip unavailable. While he was kind enough to leave his work at the museum to escort me home, he must return to his duties.”

“But why must he leave so soon? We’ve only just started-” He clamped his lips together and shot Andrew an imploring look.

“Started what?” Lady Catherine asked.

“A surprise for you,” Andrew cut in. “Something Spencer and I discussed yesterday afternoon. I promised to lend my assistance.”

She raised her brows. “What sort of surprise?”

Pure chagrin washed over Spencer’s face. Before the boy could reply, Andrew again spoke up. “If we told you, it wouldn’t be any sort of surprise.” He shot Spencer a conspiratorial wink. “I believe we need to fetch the dictionary for your mother, Spencer, so she can look up ‘surprise. ’ ”

“I know you’re not normally fond of surprises, Mum,” Spencer said in a rush, “but you’ll like this one. You’ll be proud of me, I know, when we’re finished.”

“I’m already proud of you.”

“Then you’ll be more proud.”

She studied her son’s face for several seconds, then she turned toward Andrew. “You promised him this… whatever it is?”

“I did.”

“You did not mention this to me earlier.”

“It had not occurred to me to do so as that is the nature of a surprise. Also, I hadn’t anticipated my visit here being quite so short in duration.”

Silence filled the room, and Andrew could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind. Why was she suddenly so anxious to get rid of him? Was there some aspect of her life that she worried he’d discover? Her earlier words, this man’s capture means that there is no longer a threat of danger to me bothered him greatly. The fact that he’d detected fear in her eyes more than once since the shooting made her explanation of “danger to my health” ring untrue. Had she lied? If so, why?

There were only two other reasons he could think of that would make her anxious for him leave. If she were interested in forming a relationship with a man-like perhaps one of her many bouquet-sending suitors- Andrew’s presence in her home could put a damper on her plans. But that made little sense since she’d made it plain that she did not wish to form an attachment.

The other reason made his heart pound with hope. If she vehemently did not want to form an attachment, yet found herself attracted to me…

She’d want him to leave. As soon as possible. Could that be why she’d acted so prickly around him lately-because she was fighting desire?

He shook himself from his reverie and looked at her. She looked very disgruntled-rather the way Andrew imagined a general would if his brilliant military campaign was just outmaneuvered. Hmmm. This was very promising.

“How long will this surprise take to complete?” she asked him.

“At least a week,” Andrew said, certain that a halo magically appeared above his head to accompany the angelic expression into which he arranged his features.

“A week!” There was no mistaking her dismay-or the suspicion ripe in her voice.

Spencer instantly brightened. “You can stay that long, Mr. Stanton?”

“Yes,”Andrew said.

She shot him an undecipherable look, then turned toward Spencer, whose eyes were filled with a heartbreaking combination of excitement and hope. There was no mistaking she was torn. Finally, she reached out and ruffled the boy’s dark hair.

“A week,” she agreed.

Spencer’s smile could have lit a darkened room.

“Well, now that that’s been settled,” said Lady Catherine, “I shall depart for my visit with Mrs. Ralston.”

“Is your friend’s home on the way to the village?” Andrew asked.

“As a matter of fact it is. Why?”

“Would you mind if I came along? There are some items I need to purchase and would like to visit the local shops.”

“What do you wish to purchase?”

He made a tsking sound and waggled his finger at her. “Cannot tell. All part of the surprise.”

“Perhaps we have on hand whatever these supplies are.”

“I’ve already ascertained that you don't.” He turned to Spencer. “Would you care to join me, Spencer?” he asked casually.

Andrew instantly sensed the tension that filled the silence. He knew Spencer rarely left the security of the grounds, and perhaps it was too soon to encourage this outing to the village, but they’d made such great strides this morning during their first horseback-riding lesson, Andrew hoped to keep their momentum going.

Several more seconds of silence passed, and Andrew could see Spencer was conflicted.

Lady Catherine cleared her throat. “That is very thoughtful Mr. Stanton, however, Spencer doesn’t like to venture-”

“I want to go,” Spencer cut in.

“You do?” There was no mistaking his mother’s amazement.

Spencer nodded vigorously, and Andrew wondered if the lad was trying more to convince his mother or himself of his decision. “I want to help with the surprise.” He lifted his chin. “I’ll be fine, Mum. Mr. Stanton will keep me safe. I want to go. Truly.”

She hesitated for several heartbeats, and Andrew could plainly see her surprised pleasure at Spencer’s words. Indeed, he fancied she blinked back tears. Finally, she smiled at her son. “I’d be delighted to have the company. I’ll have the carriage brought around. You can drop me at Mrs. Ralston’s cottage, then continue on to the village. No need to return for me-I‘d enjoy a brisk walk home.”

“Can we use the curricle instead?” Spencer asked.

“That way Mr. Stanton can show me how to handle it.” He turned to Mr. Stanton with a hopeful expression. “You do know how, don’t you?”

Andrew nodded. “Yes, but a curricle only seats two people.”

“We can all squeeze onto the seat,” Spencer insisted. “I do not require much room at all. Besides, it’s only a short ride to Mrs. Ralston’s, and then there’d only be two of us since Mum wishes to walk home.”

Andrew turned to Lady Catherine, who was clearly stunned by this turn of events. Keeping his voice and expression perfectly bland, he said, “I’m amenable to trying Spencer’s plan, if you are, Lady Catherine. If we discover the seat is too crowded, I would be happy to walk beside the vehicle to Mrs. Ralston’s house.”

She looked at him with a combination of worry and hope. “Do you promise not to travel swiftly during this lesson?”

He laid his hand over his heart. “I swear I would never do anything to place Spencer, or you, in any danger.”

Her gaze drifted back to Spencer and she smiled. “Very well. The curricle it is.”

Forty-five minutes later, Spencer, under Mr. Stanton’s patient tutelage, successfully brought the pair of matching bays to a halt in front of Genevieve’s cottage. Catherine’s heart contracted at the utter delight and triumph etched on her son’s face.

“I did it,” he said, his cheeks flushed with victory.

“Yes, you did,” she agreed. “And marvelously well. I’m so proud of you-” Her throat swelled, cutting off her voice, and to mask her emotion, she pulled him to her for a hug. Spencer’s arms wrapped around her, and with her cheek pressed to his, she looked over his shoulder and met Mr. Stanton’s steady, dark-eyed gaze.

Her heart thumped against her ribs, and the myriad of confusing, conflicting emotions this man inspired assailed her once again. But one rose swiftly to the surface-gratitude. She was deeply grateful to him for giving this joy to Spencer. Blinking back the moisture that ridiculously threatened behind her eyes, she smiled at him. Thank you, she mouthed silently.

His lips curved upward in a warm smile that stalled her breath. You’re welcome, he mouthed back.

“My goodness, is that Master Spencer at the reins of this fine equipage?”

At the sound of Genevieve’s rich, sultry voice, Catherine yanked her gaze from Mr. Stanton and released her son.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Ralston,” Spencer said, grinning hugely. “Yes, ‘tis I. I’ve just learned to drive it.”

Genevieve approached the curricle from the flower-lined path leading to her cottage, her avid gaze taking in the three passengers squashed into the seat. Dressed in a cheery yellow muslin gown decorated with sprigs of embroidered lilacs, she looked like a breath of late-summer sunshine. “Why, I nearly did not recognize you, Master Spencer,” she said, her smile directed at the lad. “You’ve grown into quite the strapping young man since I saw you last.”

There was no missing Spencer’s flush of pleasure at her words. “Thank you, Mrs. Ralston.”

“And whom have you brought to see me today?” she asked with a teasing grin.

“Well, my mum, but you already know her.”

“Yes, Lady Catherine and I are well acquainted.”

“And this is our friend, Mr. Stanton. He traveled all about Egypt with my uncle Philip. You should ask him about the time his clothes were stolen by knife-wielding brigands.”

Heat rose in Catherine’s cheeks as the thought of a naked Mr. Stanton slammed into her mind. Genevieve’s smiling gaze swept over Mr. Stanton with unabashed interest. “I am curiosity itself.”

Catherine cleared her throat. “Genevieve, allow me to properly introduce Mr. Andrew Stanton, my brother’s business partner in his museum venture. Mr. Stanton, my dearest friend, Mrs. Ralston.”

Mr. Stanton unwedged himself from the seat and jumped nimbly down. He offered Genevieve a formal bow and a friendly smile. “A pleasure, Mrs. Ralston.”

“Likewise, Mr. Stanton. Welcome to Little Longstone. Are you enjoying your visit?”

“Very much. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to take pleasure in such fresh air and tranquil, colorful surroundings.” He indicated the profusion of well-tended blooms surrounding them. “Your garden is exceptional.”

Genevieve beamed. “Thank you. It is entirely Catherine’s doing. She resurrected the entire area from the weed-infested, overgrown disaster it was when I purchased the cottage. She won’t hear of me hiring a gardener.”

“A stranger?” Catherine interjected, her voice filled with mock horror. “Tending my darlings? Never!”

“You see?” Genevieve said to Mr. Stanton with an arch grin. “A very headstrong woman.”

“Indeed?” Mr. Stanton said, his face the picture of exaggerated shock. “I hadn’t noticed.”

A delighted laugh trilled from Genevieve. “Will you join us for tea?”

“Thank you, but Spencer and I are on our way to the village.”

“Another day then?”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your visit with Lady Catherine.”

“Nonsense. I simply must hear about these knife-wielding ruffians.”

He laughed. “In that case, I’d be honored to join you another day.” After a brief nod of thanks, he walked to Catherine’s side of the curricle and raised his hand. “May I assist you, Lady Catherine?”

Catherine stared at his hand and swallowed. She did not want to touch him. Her brutally honest inner voice immediately branded her a liar, and she clenched her jaw. Botheration. All right, she wanted to touch him. But she greatly feared doing so. Feared her reaction, especially if it was anything like what she’d experienced when he’d walked into her in the corridor…

Oh, stop being ridiculous, she chided herself. It was merely his hand. Helping her so she didn’t ignominiously tumble to the ground from her perch. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d actually have to touch him, as they both wore gloves. Giving what she hoped passed for a cool, unconcerned smile, she placed her hand in his.

His fingers wrapped around hers in a sure, strong grip, and warmth permeated through her gloves to sizzle up her arm. An accompanying heat blossomed on her cheeks, and she prayed no one would notice. The instant her feet touched the ground she snatched her hand away as if he’d burned her.

“Thank you.” Shielding her eyes against the sunlight dappling through the trees, she smiled up at Spencer. “Enjoy your outing.”

“I will, Mum.”

Mr. Stanton turned, as if to climb back onto the curricle, but instead he leaned toward her. “Don’t worry,” in said in a low voice only she could hear. “I’ll take good care of him.”

He swung himself into the seat, then with a smile and a nod at her and Genevieve, he instructed Spencer to go. Seconds later the curricle was heading off toward the village.

Catherine watched the vehicle until it rounded the corner at the end of the lane and disappeared from view. She then turned toward Genevieve, and said, “I have news.” Pulling her father’s letter from her reticule, she passed the missive to Genevieve.

After reading the letter, Genevieve handed it back and offered a relieved smile. “So there is no need to worry.”

“None. Well, except for the investigator Lord Markingworth and his friends hired, but I cannot see how he could discover our identity.”

“Excellent.”She looked down the lane where the curricle had traveled. “So that was Mr. Stanton,” her friend said, her voice ripe with… something. “He is much different than I’d envisioned based on your description.”

“Indeed? And what had you envisioned?”

Genevieve laughed. “Certainly not that alarmingly attractive man with the devastating smile and soulful eyes. Darling, your description of him in no way did him justice. I could sum up that glorious man in two words: absolutely divine.”

Something that felt suspiciously like jealousy fluttered through Catherine. “I never said he was ugly.”

“No, but neither did you give any hint that he was so”-she blew out a dreamy-sounding sigh-“so absolutely divine. Masculine and strong. Did you see those lovely dimples when he smiled?”

God, yes. She’d had a great deal of trouble prying her avid gaze away from them. “I hadn’t particularly noticed, but now that you mention it, yes, I suppose he does have dimples.”

“He seems to have formed a bond with Spencer.”

“Yes. They are working together on some sort of surprise for me.”

“Indeed? What sort of surprise?”

“If I knew, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” Catherine said with a smile, mimicking Mr. Stanton’s earlier words to her. “When Mr. Stanton asked Spencer to accompany him to the village, I thought for certain it would turn into an awkward moment. I was stunned when Spencer accepted. I’d ceased asking him to join me several years ago, as I knew he would only refuse to leave the estate grounds.” A sheepish smile pulled at her lips. “If I weren’t so pleased with Spencer’s change of heart, I’d be irked that Mr. Stanton achieved in a mere twenty-four hours something I’ve been unable to accomplish.”

“Obviously the reason behind your son’s unusual decision rests with Mr. Stanton. Your guest’s presence is clearly having a positive effect on Spencer.”

“Yes.”Unfortunately he wasn’t having an effect only on Spencer.

Genevieve’s gaze searched hers, and all traces of amusement vanished. “He cares for you.”

It felt as if the bottom of her stomach landed on her toes. Adopting a light tone, she said, “Of course he does. He’s my son.”

Genevieve regarded her with a sharp-eyed gaze that made Catherine want to squirm. “I was not talking about your son.”

Catherine arranged her features into what she prayed passed for surprise. “Oh. Well, any ‘caring’ Mr. Stanton might feel toward me is merely a politeness toward his best friend’s sister.”

“You are wrong, Catherine. I cannot fathom how you don’t see it. Are you not aware of the way he looks at you? Believe me when I tell you, there is nothing merely polite about it.”

Heat singed Catherine’s cheeks. “I fear you are in need of spectacles, my dear.”

“I most certainly am not. Has he not told you how he feels about you?”

“As a matter of fact, he has. He thinks I am opinionated and annoying.” And beautiful.

Genevieve laughed. “Oh, yes, he is well and truly caught. Darling, he may think you’re opinionated- which you are, and annoying-which everyone is on occasion, but he still desires you.”

“Pshaw,”she scoffed, attempting her best to ignore the sudden thumping of her heart. Heavens, could Genevieve be right? And if so, why did the notion of Mr. Stanton desiring her speed up her heart rate rather than appall her?

“You may ‘pshaw’ all you wish, but, as you know, I am most experienced in these matters, Catherine. The man is deeply attracted to you. And the fact that you refuse to see what is staring you in the face suggests to me that you care for him as well.”

“I most certainly do not! As I’ve already told you, the man is utterly irritating.”

“But very attractive.”

“Stubborn and opinionated.”

“Something you have in common,” Genevieve said, with a teasing grin.

“Argumentative.”

“But kind to your son.”

That stopped Catherine cold. “Yes,” she agreed softly, feeling decidedly off-balance.

“And I do not believe I have ever seen a more lovely mouth on a man.”

A statement that threw her even further off-balance. An image of Mr. Stanton’s lovely mouth flashed in her mind. His lovely mouth that had brushed so softly against her skin… hadn’t it? It had happened too quickly, occurred so softly. The feel of him pressed behind her had stalled her heart. Rendered her breathless. Shot spears of hot yearning through her that weakened her knees.

And it had all happened in the space of two heartbeats.

Good Lord, what would have happened if they’d had three heartbeats? Or half a dozen?

“Catherine? Are you all right? You look flushed.”

No doubt because she felt as if someone had lit fire to her skirts. Blinking away her errant thoughts, she said, “I’m fine. It’s merely warm standing here in the sun.”

“Then let us go inside and enjoy some tea. Baxter has just baked a fresh batch of scones.”

Hot tea was not at all what she was craving, but seeing that it was much safer than what she feared she was craving, she decided tea was a wise choice.

But while she had a reprieve from Mr. Stanton right now, she faced another cozy evening at home tonight. Sharing a meal and stories and games. Avoid and ignore. Yes, she needed to recall her watchwords. She simply had to avoid and ignore these insane yearnings Mr. Stanton’s presence caused.

But how?

“Tell me,” Genevieve said, as they entered the cottage, “do you and Mr. Stanton plan to attend the Duke of Kelby’s soiree this evening? According to the village gossip, a group of guests arrived this morning from London, so it promises to be an interesting diversion.”

Catherine recalled the invitation among the morning’s correspondence. She had not considered attending, as she did not wish to offer the duke even the slightest encouragement. “I don’t think…”Her voice trailed off as she realized that the soiree provided the perfect opportunity to avoid another cozy evening at home.

She smiled. “I don’t think I’d miss it for the world.”

A gloved hand fisted in the heavy, forest green velvet drapery and pushed the material aside. The village of Little Longstone beyond the window bustled with activity, but the only sound in the room was the ticking of the mantel clock and a slowly exhaled breath of frustration.

Look at those fools, walking about, talking, laughing, shopping, as if they hadn’t a care in the world. As if lives hadn’t been ruined.

But no more would be ruined. I’ll see to it.

The curtain fell back into place.

You managed to survive last time. You won’t survive next time.