Not Quite A Gentleman

Twelve

Today’s Modern Woman must realize the importance of fashion in her quest for intimate fulfillment. There are times to wear a fancy ball gown, times to wear a negligee, and times to wear nothing at all…

A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore

Victoria left her bedchamber early the next morning with a determined step and a plan firmly in mind: locate Nathan and make certain he did not escape as he had from the library yesterday afternoon and from Lord Alwyck’s drawing room last evening. She’d not had the opportunity to have a private word with him since he left the library with the notes and map yesterday, a vexing situation to be sure. Her heart had leapt and her stomach trembled when she’d seen him standing in the foyer last evening before the group departed for Alywck Hall. And certainly not because he looked so dashing and rakishly handsome in his formal evening wear, or because of the heated, compelling look in his eyes. No, it was because she’d finally have a moment alone with him to find out what he’d been up to all afternoon. Yes, that was why.

But then Lord Sutton had appeared, followed quickly by her aunt and Nathan’s father. There’d been no opportunity during the crowded carriage ride nor through dinner and then games in the drawing room, all while she pretended an enthusiasm for the attention both Lord Alywck and Lord Sutton showered upon her when what she actually felt like doing was pulling Nathan into a secluded alcove and kissing him. Er, questioning him.

He’d departed Lord Alwyck’s home before the rest of the group, claiming the onset of the headache and stating that he wished to walk home, as fresh air usually helped relieve the condition. Sympathy eased through her, as he had indeed appeared out of sorts, and she’d wondered if his conversation with his father had been the cause. But then sympathy had turned to suspicion. Perhaps the entire headache claim had been a ruse and he’d spent the night out searching for the jewels. He might well be out this minute doing that very thing. Without her. The wretched man. She all but stomped down the corridor and entered the dining room. Then halted.

Or, he might well be in the dining room eating eggs and reading the London Times.

He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth and quirked a brow. “Ah, it is you, Victoria. With all that stomping about, I thought perhaps we’d been invaded by marching soldiers.”

Oh, how droll. How humorous. And how irritating that she wouldn’t think of a cutting set-down until sometime next week. And ‘twas even more irritating that he looked so divine. Dressed in a snowy white shirt adorned with an obviously hastily knotted cravat, a cream waistcoat, and a Devonshire brown jacket that bore several wrinkles, he should not have looked so… perfect. Especially since his dark hair looked as if he’d combed it with nothing more than impatient fingers. Hmmm… what color breeches was he wearing? She found herself rising onto her toes in an effort to answer that question, but the mahogany table thwarted her view. Fawn, most likely, she decided, envisioning his muscular legs encased in light brown. Forcing the image from her mind, she touched her heels back onto the parquet floor.

“It appears we are the only early risers,” Nathan said. He nodded toward the sideboard lined with silver warming trays. “Please help yourself. Do you prefer coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please.” The instant the words left her mouth, a young footman jumped into action to serve her beverage. After filling her plate with eggs, thinly sliced ham, and a flaky muffin the mere looks of which set her mouth to watering, she sat down opposite Nathan.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, raising his china cup to his lips.

“Very well,” she lied. She’d spent a miserable night tossing, fretting, alternately wondering if he was searching for the jewels without her and vividly recalling the taste of his kiss, the feel of his hard body pressed against her, wrapped around her. In desperation she’d retrieved the Ladies’ Guide from her portmanteau, but reading the sexually explicit book had done nothing to calm her. Indeed, the sensual words had only served to further fuel her already heated imagination. “Did you sleep well?”

“No.”

“Oh? Why not?” Skulking about in the woods looking for jewels, were you, Lord of the Spies?

“Do you really want to know, Victoria?”

Something about that silkily asked question and the steady gaze he’d pinned her with tingled a warning along her nerve endings. Pulling off a bit of biscuit, she raised her chin. “Yes, I do.”

He nodded at the footman, dismissing the young man. After the door closed behind him, Nathan leaned forward on his forearms, cradling his delicate china cup between his large palms. “I didn’t sleep well last night because my mind was too crowded.”

“So you were here? In the house?”

“Of course. Where else would I-” His words chopped off and he leaned back. “I see. You thought I was out skulking in the woods, looking for the jewels without you.”

His words so precisely mirrored her thoughts, a guilty flush heated her face. “Isn’t skulking about in the woods what spies do best?”

“I can’t deny it’s something I’m good at, but it’s not what I do best.”

“And what do you do best?”

His gaze dipped to her mouth, then he shot her a mischievous grin. “Ah, an interesting question if I’ve ever heard one. Are you certain you want to know the answer, Victoria?”

Heat whooshed through her and her toes curled inside her shoes. God help her, yes, she wanted to know. Desperately. Especially since that gleam in his eyes made it clear the answer was something that would leave her breathless. But it wouldn’t do to let him know that. Indeed, clearly the best way to deal with him was to play his game. Looking directly into his eyes, she asked softly, “Are you offering to tell me, Nathan?”

“Do you always answer a question with a question?”

“Do you?”

He laughed. “Sometimes. Usually when I’m stalling for time. Is that what you’re doing?”

“Certainly not,” she replied with a sniff.

“As for what I do best, I’d be delighted to tell you. Even more delighted to provide you with a demonstration.”

Whoosh. Another wave of heat engulfed her. She attempted her most prim expression but wasn’t certain she succeeded, as it was difficult to appear prim while sensual images danced through her mind. “Here? In the dining room?”

“Certainly not the most traditional of locations, but if that is your wish, I’m willing to forgo convention.”

An unladylike snort escaped her. “You? Willing to forgo convention? Thank goodness I’m not prone to the vapors lest that statement would send me into a serious decline.”

He waved his hand in a magnanimous gesture. “Feel free to succumb. As I am a physician, I could immediately set you back to rights.”

“Immediately? So then doctoring is what you do best.”

A smile that could only be described as wicked curved his lips. “No. Doctoring is what I do when I’m not doing what I do best.”

Oh, my. Surely he didn’t mean… but, oh yes, based on that devilish grin, he clearly did. Despite the knowledge she’d gained from reading the Guide, she suddenly felt woefully unprepared to continue this conversation. In an effort to regain the upper hand, she adopted the chilly tone that never failed to put people in their place. “How delightful for you. Now, what is the plan for today?”

“Plan?”

“To locate the jewels.”

“I haven’t the vaguest idea.”

Victoria laid down her fork. “Haven’t the vaguest idea? After thinking about it all night long?”

“What makes you think that pondering the location of the jewels is what filled my thoughts last night?”

“Because it should have been. If I’d lain awake all night it most certainly would have been what I’d pondered.” Her conscience jumped up and shrieked with outrage. Liar! You were wide-awake, and maps and jewels were the last thing on your mind! She suddenly stilled. Was it possible that Nathan had suffered from the same sensual thoughts that had stolen her sleep? If so…

Whoosh. Good lord, it was hot in here. She barely refrained from fanning herself with her linen napkin.

“Then how unfortunate for our search plans that you slept so well,” Nathan said in a dust dry voice. “I did study the drawing and the letter further, but was unable to glean anything more. I also drew the grid map of the estate. I suggest we begin in the northeast corner and work from there. In the letter I sent off to your father yesterday explaining, in code, how you lost the note-”

“You mean how your goat ate the note.”

“-I requested that he send another drawing. Unfortunately, given the distances involved, by the time the note reaches him in London and a reply is returned, at least a fortnight will have passed. I’d hoped to have this matter settled by then.”

“So you can return to your home in-where is it again? Little Longstone?”

“Yes.” He tossed back the last of his coffee. “I’m certain you’re anxious for this matter to be settled as well so you can return to London. To your parties and shopping excursions and your suitors. So you can choose your husband and plan an extravagant wedding.”

“Yes, that’s what I want,” she said, a frown burrowing between her brows at the sudden hollow sensation in her stomach. She lifted her chin a notch. “You make it sound as if there is something wrong with that.”

“Not at all. If that’s what you want…” He shrugged.

Warmth crept up Victoria’s cheeks. How had he managed to make her feel so… shallow? Superficial? Every girl dreamed of fancy parties, shopping sprees, suitors, and her own wedding-didn’t she? Certainly all the girls she knew did.

Before she could inform him of that, however, he asked, “Tell me, did either my brother or Gordon question you last evening regarding your replication of the note?”

“Yes. Actually, they both did. After you departed.”

“The three of you were together?”

“No. Lord Alwyck asked me when we had a moment alone.”

His eyes narrowed. “And how did you happen to have a moment alone?”

Feeling much more in command of the conversation, Victoria enjoyed another bite of eggs before answering. “He gave me a tour of the music room.”

“Where was everyone else during this tour?”

“My aunt and your father were engaged in a game of backgammon. Your brother had stepped onto the terrace.”

“What did Gordon ask you?”

“How much of the wording of the note I’d been able to remember and how much you’d been able to decipher.”

“And your response?”

“As promised, I revealed nothing. I played the part of the forgetful, foolish, giggling female.”

“He believed you?”

“Without a doubt. Clearly he is accustomed to the forgetful, foolish, giggling sort.”

“And my brother? I take it you found yourself alone with him as well?”

“Briefly, yes. After we arrived back here, as we walked up to the house. I used the same ruse with him.”

“His reaction?”

Victoria considered for several seconds, then said, “He clearly believed me as well. But he also seemed rather… relieved. Of course, now both gentlemen think me a cabbage-headed nincompoop.”

“On the contrary, I’m certain they think you girlishly charming.”

“And a cabbage-headed nincompoop,” she muttered. “Did they question you?”

“Yes. I told them that as you were a forgetful, foolish, giggling female cabbage-headed nincompoop, any search would be delayed until I heard from your father.”

Deciding nothing she said would be pleasant, she applied her full attention to her breakfast. After generously slathering her biscuit with blueberry jam, she took a bite, chewed, then closed her eyes in rapture. “This is the most delicious jam I’ve ever tasted,” she proclaimed, “and that is high praise, as I consider myself something of a connoisseur.”

She ate in silence for a moment, then heard Nathan chuckle. “You have a sweet tooth and a hearty appetite, I see.”

Heat crept into her cheeks for forgetting herself. She normally breakfasted alone, as Father tended to sleep late and therefore she was accustomed to eating a large meal-something a proper lady wouldn’t do in front of a gentleman. “I’m afraid so.”

“No need to sound so sheepish. I wasn’t criticizing. Indeed, I find watching you eat very… stimulating. It inspires me to an idea.”

Her ham-laden fork paused halfway to her lips and she looked across the table at him. He was watching her with a speculative look in his eyes while he slowly tapped his lips with the tip of his forefinger. She wasn’t sure what idea she’d inspired in him, but the way his lips looked, so soft yet firm beneath his finger, was certainly inspiring her to an idea. Several in fact.

“What sort of idea?” she asked, inwardly cringing at how breathless she sounded.

“A picnic. I’ll arrange for Cook to prepare a meal we can bring along so we do not need to interrupt our search by returning to eat. How does that sound?”

An entire morning and afternoon spent exploring the countryside in search of a cache of stolen jewels with a man who made her insides simultaneously tingle and tremble? Who excited and frustrated and challenged her as no man ever had? It sounded exhilarating. Exciting. And oh, so very tempting. Her mind issued a cursory caution about being alone with him again, but her heart instantly silenced all objections. She’d wanted an opportunity to kiss him again-on her terms-and he’d just handed her the chance.

And based on her brief conversation with Aunt Delia last night before they’d retired, she needn’t worry about her aunt objecting to her riding alone with Nathan. Indeed, her aunt had encouraged her, saying, “Heavens, my dear, enjoy the lovely weather while you can. Just because I don’t care for riding doesn’t mean you should be deprived. Things are much less formal here than in London. Daylight rides in the country are perfectly respectable.”

“That sounds perfect… ly acceptable.”

“Excellent. I’ll make the arrangements with Cook while you change into your riding clothes. Then we’ll meet in, shall we say thirty minutes at the stables?”

“Fine.”

He touched his napkin to his mouth, then rose. After a bow, he quit the room and Victoria heaved a long, feminine sigh.

His breeches were indeed fawn. And they did indeed fit him very nicely.

Nathan sat on a wooden stool in the massive kitchen, munching on a still warm biscuit, and watched Cook pack items into the worn brown leather saddlebag he’d retrieved from his bedchamber. Memories of other times he’d sat in this exact spot, eating a treat fresh from the oven, stole over him. Growing up, the kitchen had been one of his favorite places in which to escape, not only because of the delicious treats he procured, but because of the thrill of the forbidden-neither he nor Colin were supposed to ever visit the kitchen. Most improper, his father had decreed. But as this was where all the treats were, neither he nor Colin had paid the slightest bit of attention to that dictate.

“Just like old times, eh, Dr. Nathan?” Cook said, a wide grin splitting her jolly features, her round cheeks rosy from the heat of the stove.

He smiled back. Her name was Gertrude, but for the twenty-five years she’d been in charge of Creston Manor’s kitchen, she’d simply been Cook.

“I was just thinking that very thing.” He inhaled deeply. “Mmmm. I believe this is the best smelling spot in all of England.”

There was no mistaking Cook’s pleasure at his remark.

“ ‘Course it is. And it’s ashamed ye should be for stayin’ away for so long. But now yer back and it’s a veritable feast I’ve prepared for you and your young lady.”

“She is not my young lady,” he said, ignoring the odd tingle those words induced. “She is merely a guest. Who likes to eat. A lot.”

“Oh, but that’s the best kind of lady, Dr. Nathan. The sort wot don’t mind eatin‘ in front of others and don’t put on no airs. Can’t abide by these ladies who peck at their food in the dining room then stuff themselves in their bedchamber.” She waved her hands and wrinkled her nose. “Bah. False is wot they are. Ye can always tell wot sort of woman yer dealin’ with by how she eats. This Lady Victoria has a hearty appetite ye say? Then she’s one to keep, ye mark my words.”

“She’d be a difficult woman to ‘keep.’”

Cook nodded in immediate understanding. “Strong-willed is she?”

“Very. And opinionated.”

“Both blessings, to be sure. Ye’d quickly tire of a chit who agreed with you all the time.”

“Perhaps. But agreeing with me once would certainly be welcome,” he muttered.

Cook laughed. “Oh, she’s got you right disgruntled, she does.”

“Because she is so very irritating.” And lovely. And amusing. And charming. And desirable.

Cook chuckled and shook her head. “That’s exactly what me and my William thought of each other at first. Couldn’t decide if we wanted to cosh each other or kiss each other. Can honestly say that in three and twenty years together neither of us have ever been bored.”

“And I’m happy for you,” Nathan said, reaching for a towel to wipe his fingers. “But as I said, Lady Victoria isn’t my lady. In fact, the sooner she leaves Cornwall, the better I’ll like it.”

Cook shrugged, but there was no missing the speculation in her shrewd dark eyes. “‘Course you know wot’s best for ye.” She secured the saddlebag’s flap, then pushed the parcel toward Nathan. “There ye go. And I expect it to be empty when ye return.”

Nathan lifted the bag then pretended to stagger under its weight. “Empty? That could take a week.”

“I doubt it. Ridin‘ somehow seems to give folks an appetite.”

Her voice and expression were all innocence, but Nathan knew her well enough to realize they were anything but. He shot her a mock frown, which she blithely ignored.

“Thank you for arranging the meal,” he said, slinging the bag over his shoulder and heading toward the door.

“Yer welcome. Have a pleasant afternoon.”

“Doubtful,” Nathan grumbled under his breath as he stepped outside. “But at least I won’t go hungry.”

He strode across the lawn toward the stables, a frown tugging down his brows. Damn it, he felt completely out of sorts, and he didn’t like it one bit. His life in Little Longstone was peaceful. His life since he’d arrived in Cornwall was… the exact opposite of peaceful. He felt as if he were being pulled in half a dozen directions. His better judgment questioned the wisdom of spending the day with Victoria, but still his heart quickened at the prospect. He knew he should want nothing more to do with her, yet he wanted her with a growing desperation that threatened to overwhelm his common sense. In spite of the fact that his chances of finding the jewels and clearing his name were slim, he still felt compelled to try. And even though part of him longed to return to Little Longstone, he couldn’t deny that he’d missed Creston Manor. He hadn’t realized how strong the impact of being near the sea and cliffs and caves would hit him. The ache of nostalgia they would invoke.

Shaking off his pensive mood, he looked ahead toward the stables. To his surprise, he saw Victoria standing next to the animal pen, her back turned toward him. When he’d suggested they meet at the stables in thirty minutes, it hadn’t occurred to him that she’d not only be on time, but early. His heart quickened in that ridiculous way it did whenever he saw her, as did his footsteps.

She turned then and his steps faltered when he noted she wasn’t alone. No, she was with Petunia. And Victoria and his goat appeared to be engaged in a tug of war over what looked like a piece of white material. Undoubtedly Victoria’s handkerchief. Having had several such altercations with Petunia, he well knew who would emerge victorious, and it wouldn’t be the woman attempting to yank that bit of material from a clearly determined goat.

He broke into a run, watching both Victoria and Petunia dig in. As he neared, he heard Victoria huffing and puffing with effort. “Not again,” she said through gritted teeth, straining backward. “You stole the note but you’ll not have my favorite handkerchief. Why can’t you eat shrubs like normal goats?”

Nathan set down the saddlebag and started forward. Petunia caught sight of him and instantly abandoned her grip on the material and trotted toward him, clearly expecting an even better treat. Fortunately, that freed Victoria’s handkerchief. Unfortunately, it also freed Victoria. With a surprised cry, she stumbled backward and landed with a resounding plop on her bottom.

Nathan raced forward and dropped to one knee beside her. “Are you all right?”

She turned to him. Crimson stained her cheeks and her skin glistened from her exertions. Her bonnet was askew and one long brunette curl bisected her forehead, resting on the bridge of her nose. Ragged breaths puffed from between her parted lips. Triumph gleamed in her eyes.

“I won.” She raised her gloved hand, in which she clutched a wrinkled, non-too-clean linen handkerchief that was missing a piece of lace around one edge.

Relieved that she obviously wasn’t hurt, he said, “I’m not certain that the one with the mussed hair and disheveled bonnet and who’s sitting on her bottom in the dirt can be declared the winner, but I’ll bow to your assessment.”

She blew a puff of breath upward to dislodge the curl resting on her nose, but the silky skein resettled itself in the exact same position. “It matters not who is on the ground. She who holds the spoils of war is the victor.” She shook her fist gripping the handkerchief for emphasis.

“Are you hurt?”

“Only my pride.” She cast a woeful glance at her clenched fist. “But I fear my handkerchief is grievously injured.”

“What on earth were you doing?”

She turned back toward him and hoisted a brow. “Was it not obvious? I was attempting to rescue my property from that four-legged handkerchief thief.”

“How did she manage to get it in the first place?”

“She sneaked up on me. I was feeding bits of bread to your ducks when I felt something nudge me. When I turned, your goat was chewing my handkerchief.”

“An animal that weighs at least ten stone sneaked up on you?”

She raised her chin and shot him a haughty look. “She’s shockingly quiet for one her size.”

“Why were you feeding the ducks? I thought you didn’t like… what did you call my animals? Oh yes, farm beasts.”

“I never said I didn’t like ducks. I said I didn’t care for animals that outweigh me. Both your ducks, you’ll notice, are considerably smaller than me.”

“Where did you get the bread?”

“From the dining room.”

“I see. So you pilfered food from my family home then attempted to bribe my ducks with stolen goods.”

An unmistakably guilty flush stained her cheeks, and something inside him shifted at the realization that she’d attempted to befriend his ducks. But rather than appear abashed, she hiked up her chin another notch and met his gaze without a flinch. “I could certainly find a more delicate way to describe the events, but in a nutshell, yes, that is what happened. And I’ll have you know that the ducks and I were getting on swimmingly until you-know-who sneaked up on me.”

The sight of her, so disheveled and indignant, had him pressing his lips together to stifle a grin. Her eyes instantly narrowed. “You’re not laughing, are you?”

He coughed to cover a chuckle. “Certainly not.”

“Because if you were laughing, I fear it would bode very poorly for you. Very poorly indeed.”

“Oh? What would you do? Toss me onto my bottom? Swat me with your laceless handkerchief?”

“Both tempting scenarios. However, one should never reveal one’s plan for revenge, especially to the person upon whom the revenge shall be wrought. Surely a spy would know that.”

“Ah, yes. I believe it is mentioned in the Official Spy Handbook.”

After muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “aggravating man,” she shot him a glare, one rendered considerably less potent by the curl bisecting her nose, then struggled to stand. Nathan rose and offered his hand, but she pushed it aside. Once she stood, she planted her fisted hand on her hip and raised her other arm to point an imperious finger at Petunia, who sat, perfectly relaxed, under the nearby copse of elms.

“That goat is a menace.”

“She’s actually very sweet. Her only fault is being insatiably curious.”

“And sadly lacking in discernment when it comes to snacks.”

“Yes, that, too.”

She eyed his clothing. “How is it that your attire doesn’t seem to be missing buttons or have any teeth marks upon it?”

“I learned very quickly, right after I lost not one but two waistcoat buttons, that while Petunia likes clothing-oriented snacks, she loves carrots and apples. It clearly states in the Official Spy Handbook that one tends to fare much better against one’s foes when the foes are offered what they want.”

“So you saved your clothing with-”

“Carrots and apples. Yes.”

She brushed at a streak of dust marring her skirt. “You might have mentioned that helpful hint prior to now.”

“You didn’t ask. Besides, it hadn’t occurred to me that you would arrive at the stables before me.”

“I wanted to make certain you didn’t try to sneak off without me.”

Her words had the effect of a splash of cold water and his shoulders stiffened. “We struck a bargain. I’m a man of my word,” he said in a cool voice.

Silence stretched between them. Reaching up, she tucked the stray curl into her bonnet and studied him. “Then I suppose I owe you an apology.”

He merely inclined his head and waited.

Another silence followed. Finally she said, “I’m not happy about the condition of my handkerchief.”

He stared at her, nonplussed, then shook his head. “Well, that was the worst apology I’ve ever received.”

“What do you mean? I admitted I owed you an apology.”

“Actually, you said you ‘supposed’ you did.”

“Exactly. What more do you want?”

“It’s not an apology without the actual words, Victoria.” He folded his arms across his chest and raised his brows.

Again she studied him for several long seconds, a strange expression on her face. Then she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Nathan. We struck a deal and you’ve given me no reason to doubt that you’re a man of your word.” She pressed her lips together, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It killed you not to add the words ‘so far,’ didn’t it.”

“It required an effort, yes.”

“Well, I accept your apology. And in the spirit of fairness, I offer one of my own. I am sorry that my goat wreaked havoc upon your handkerchief. I realize that this is a poor substitute, but…” He reached into his waistcoat, withdrew a folded square of linen and presented it to her with a flourish. “Please accept mine as a replacement.”

“That isn’t necessary-”

“But I insist,” he said, pressing the cloth into her hand. “And let us be grateful that Petunia didn’t nibble upon your shoes instead, as I fear mine would be much too large to offer as a replacement.”

Her lips twitched. “Hmmm. Yes. Especially as you already have one pet who is named for munching upon footwear.” She tucked both his handkerchief and her ruined one in the pocket of her riding habit, then extended her hand. “Truce?”

He shook her hand, but after doing so, some inner devil made him raise her hand to his lips. But suddenly touching his lips to her gloved fingers wasn’t enough, so he turned her hand to expose the thin band of bare inner wrist visible between her glove and the sleeve of her riding habit. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he touched his lips to that soft bit of pale skin. And immediately regretted it.

An elusive whiff of roses teased his senses, instantly filling him with the urge to bury his face against her soft skin so as to breathe her in. But it was her reaction that had him swallowing a groan of pure want. A quick intake of breath, followed by a long, slow, exhalation. Eyes that widened slightly then drooped to half mast. The tip of her tongue moistening lips that remained parted. She looked flushed and aroused and… bloody hell, the effect this woman had on him was absurd. She’d all but brought him to his knees by doing nothing save look at him. God help him should she ever deliberately attempt to entice him.

Damn it all, he should have let her stay angry with him. Should have strove to keep that bit of distance between them. It would have been much easier to resist her if she weren’t speaking to him. Challenging him. Looking at him with those big blue eyes. But no, he had to accept her offer of a truce. Instead, he should have insisted she cover herself with a burlap sack.

And now he was about to embark on an entire afternoon in her company. Where he’d be forced to visit the place where the worst night of his life had taken place.

God help him, he wasn’t sure what frightened him more-the thought of the afternoon beginning or of it ending.