Not Quite A Gentleman

Sixteen

While Today’s Modern Woman should seek out her own life experiences at every opportunity, it is always wise to listen to other women who, through their own daring, have already gained knowledge of intimate matters. Time spent talking to those well versed on such subjects can prove comforting, enlightening, and offer helpful guidance. Besides, it is always more fun to have a partner in crime.

A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore

Victoria set aside her silver dinner tray, then leaned back against the bed pillows with a satisfied sigh. “That chowder was delicious.” She smiled at her aunt who, after helping her get settled and changed into a fresh linen night rail, had had a dinner tray sent up as well. “Do you suppose the cook would share the recipe?”

“Well, if she won’t give it to us, surely Dr. Oliver could charm it out of her.” She regarded Victoria over the edge of her crystal wine goblet. “I believe if anyone other than he had brought me the news of your frightful experience, I would have quite fainted away. Dr. Oliver, however, has… a way about him. He’s very confident. And reassuring.”

“Yes, he is.” And so many other things. Things that excited and delighted her. Yet confused and unsettled her.

“And so devilishly attractive,” Aunt Delia continued. “And strong. He carried you all the way back to the house!” She made a fanning motion with her napkin. “Clearly he’s most vigorous. And so concerned for you, Victoria.”

Heat crept up Victoria’s face from beneath the neckline of her nightgown. “Naturally he was concerned. He is a doctor. He is concerned for all his patients.”

Aunt Delia set down her teacup with a decided click. “My dear girl, you’ve adroitly sidestepped the subject of Dr. Oliver all through dinner, and it’s time to stop.” Her eyes filled with concern. “Dearest, if you think that his concern is only that of a doctor for his patient, then you are in need of a stronger restorative. Surely you can see he is deeply attracted to you. And a blind person could see that you are attracted to him as well.”

She inwardly winced at her apparent transparency. “Given his good looks, I’m sure most women would find him attractive.”

“Yes. But you are the only one I am worried about.” Aunt Delia rose from her wing chair and resettled herself on the edge of Victoria’s bed. “I can see you are troubled, Victoria. Why don’t you talk to me about what’s distressing you?”

Victoria plucked at the counterpane. The need to share with someone the plethora of conflicted feelings overwhelmed her. But she couldn’t confide to her aunt the sensual nature of those feelings, of her encounters with Nathan. Couldn’t share the scandalous desires, the heat, the needs he inspired in her. Her poor aunt would swoon from shock. Even worse, such an admission would certainly mean her aunt would no longer allow her any time alone with Nathan. While her inner voice said that was surely for the best, her heart did not agree. Besides, how could she hope to discuss something that she didn’t herself comprehend?

Forcing a smile, she said, “I appreciate your offer, Aunt Delia, but I’m fine.”

“I see. You think that I will wilt from shock, but I assure you such is not the case.” She laid a sympathetic hand over Victoria’s. “I understand completely, my dear. You have always been a planner. Even as a child you planned your tea parties, and as a young girl, your ensembles down to the last detail. Planned the next ten books you intended to read. During the Season, you’ve planned precisely which parties you wanted to attend, which gentlemen you would partner for each dance. You’ve planned exactly the sort of man you should marry and know precisely the sort of wedding you want-plans to be put into action immediately upon your return to London. You came to Cornwall with a definite plan in your mind-to endure this visit your father insisted upon for the shortest amount of time possible, then return to London and decide upon a husband. And now you’re completely out of sorts because the devastatingly attractive Dr. Oliver and the unexpected feelings he inspires have thrown all your fine plans into total disarray.”

Her aunt’s assessment of the situation was so accurate, Victoria could only stare. “How did you know that?”

“Two reasons. First, my intuition is-and I say this with the utmost modesty-formidable. And second, because you and I are very much alike, and that is precisely the way I would react in your situation. I think you’re learning that the problem with plans is that they lack spontaneity.”

“I don’t like spontaneity.”

“On the contrary, I think you’re discovering, much to your dismay, that you like it very much. You only think you don’t like it because you’ve never known it before. It’s rather like saying that you don’t care for blueberry pie when you’ve never tasted blueberry pie.” Her gaze searched Victoria’s for several heartbeats. “Neither Branripple nor Dravensby affect you this way.”

There was no point in denying it. Indeed, it was a relief to admit it. “No. And I can’t understand why. Both are handsome. Certainly I’m much more suited to either of them than I am to Dr. Oliver.”

Aunt Delia’s brows shot upward. “Are you?”

“Of course. Lords Branripple and Dravensby are not only superior matches socially, I have much more in common with them.”

“Really? You don’t find them… boring?”

Dead boring, she realized. However, instead of helping, this conversation confused her even more. “I don’t understand. I would have thought you’d warn me against a man like Dr. Oliver.”

“A warm, handsome man who is clearly besotted with you and who puts that sparkle in your eye?”

“A man who does not possess a title. Who lives in a modest cottage, earns a modest living, and eschews Society.”

“None of which make him unsuitable, my dear. He may not be the heir, but he is still the son of an earl.”

“But what of securing my future? Marriage to either Branripple or Dravensby would make me a countess. Guarantee my position in Society. The decisions I make now will affect the rest of my life.”

“That is true.” Aunt Delia gently squeezed her hand. “But surely you know your father wouldn’t leave you financially destitute.”

“Father expects me to marry well.”

“Of course he does. But by ‘well’ I’m sure he means that he wants you to be happy.” Her aunt drew a breath, then continued, “What of Lords Sutton and Alwyck? You have a viscount and an earl right here at your fingertips, and ‘tis clear from the two evenings we’ve just spent in their company that they both find you attractive. I would be hard pressed to choose who was the handsomer, as they are both extraordinarily comely.”

“Yes, they are.” But neither made her pulse jump or her heart stutter. Neither made her want to be near him just so she wouldn’t miss one of his smiles or a single word he uttered. Neither made her fingers tingle with the overwhelming need to touch him. Nathan did all those things simply by… being. “But both of their estates and lives are here in Cornwall. While this hasn’t proven the dreadful place I’d envisioned, I could never live so far from Town. From civilization. Besides, I barely know either gentleman, whereas I’ve been acquainted with Branripple and Dravensby for years.”

“You haven’t known Dr. Oliver very long, either,” Aunt Delia said softly, “which just goes to show that the length of the acquaintance is not an accurate measure to one’s feelings.” Her gaze shifted toward the fire and her eyes took on a faraway expression. “Sometimes a person we’ve just met can ignite a spark, a desire, a yearning that someone we’ve known for years has never lit.”

She blinked twice, then seemed to recall herself and turned back to Victoria. “I’m certain that either Branripple or Dravensby would make polite, acceptable husbands who would give you little trouble. But search your heart, Victoria. Life can be staid and boring, or it can be a grand adventure. Life with a staid, boring man will be just that. On the other hand, life with someone who makes your heart soar…” She heaved a dreamy sigh the likes of which Victoria had never heard from her. “That life will be a glorious adventure.”

“Perhaps. But one must eat while on this great adventure.”

“True. Though one need not feast on the richest cuisine every day to appease the appetite.”

“It is not enough to be physically attracted to someone. I have nothing in common with Dr. Oliver.”

“Really? His father has told me a great deal about him, and from what he’s said, you share a number of similar interests.”

“Such as?”

“A love of reading. A passion for knowledge. A fondness for fairy tales. You both like animals.”

Victoria looked toward the ceiling. “He does not keep everyday, ordinary animals.”

Her aunt shrugged. “He is not an everyday, ordinary man. You’re both intelligent, and clearly he recognizes that trait in you and admires it. A smart woman would certainly impress a man like Dr. Oliver.”

“Perhaps I don’t want to impress him.”

“Pshaw. Any woman who draws breath would want to impress that divine man. Do you want to know what I think?”

Even though she wasn’t sure, Victoria nodded. “Of course.”

“I think you’re afraid to impress him. That you’re trying to keep some distance between you, to keep in place whatever barricades you’ve managed to erect.”

“Surely given our situations, that is for the best. When I return to London, I am going to choose another man to marry. And I am not at all the sort of woman Dr. Oliver wants. He believes me a hothouse flower.”

“He may not want to want you, but he most emphatically does want you.” Aunt Delia pursed her lips and studied her for several seconds, then what looked like satisfaction flashed in her eyes. “He’s kissed you.”

Fire scorched Victoria’s cheeks. Before she could reply, her aunt said briskly, “I can see quite clearly that he has. And that he knows how to kiss a woman.”

Bemused at this frank talk from her aunt, Victoria shook her head. “You’re not shocked? Scandalized?”

“My dear, I would be shocked to learn that he hadn’t. And frankly disappointed in him. ‘Twould be a shame for a man not to deliver on the promise hinted at by that devilish gleam in his eye.” But then her gaze turned searching. “And now your feminine curiosity has been awakened.”

Victoria bit her bottom lip and nodded, forcing back the image of a wet, naked Nathan from her mind. “Jolted wide-awake, I’m afraid.”

“Has he spoken of his feelings for you?”

“No.”

“As he strikes me as most forthright, ‘tis then clear he is as befuddled as you.”

“More likely because there are no feelings to speak of.”

Aunt Delia waved away the words with a flick of her wrist. “He finds himself enamored of a woman I’m certain is nothing like his usual sort.”

An image exploded in Victoria’s mind… of Nathan, naked, aroused, lowering his head to kiss a woman. A woman who wasn’t her. White-hot jealously speared through her.

A slow smile curved Aunt Delia’s lips. “That must vex him dreadfully. And the thought of you marrying another-that would not please him one bit.” Her smile disappeared and she fixed her gaze on Victoria. “The question is, what do you intend to do about this attraction? What is your plan?”

Plan? She had no plan. Her revenge scheme to give Nathan a kiss that would haunt him and then simply walk away now seemed ridiculously naive. Which left her, for the first time since she could remember, without a plan. She was simply a feather adrift on tempest-roiled seas, tossed about with abandon, no destination in sight.

Victoria cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I haven’t yet formed a plan. Indeed I’m… rather at a loss.”

Aunt Delia nodded thoughtfully. “Believe it or not, Victoria, I have found myself in circumstances precisely like this. And you are correct-the decisions you make now will affect the rest of your life. Therefore it is imperative you choose wisely.” She rose. “There is something I have in my bedchamber I must show you. I’ll return in a moment.”

She departed the room. Victoria hadn’t even begun to try to assimilate the stunning turn of this conversation, the unexpected things her aunt had said, when she returned, carrying a maroon satin satchel closed by a tasseled drawstring top.

“What is that?” Victoria asked as her aunt again sat on the edge of the bed.

In answer, her aunt loosened the drawstring ribbon and reached into the bag. She withdrew an ornate gold ring set with diamonds. “My wedding ring.”

Victoria recognized the piece but hadn’t seen it in years. “You don’t wear it anymore.”

“I removed it from my finger the day Geoffrey died, and I’ve never worn it since.”

Sympathy pulled at Victoria at her aunt’s flat tone. Uncle Geoffrey had been a dour, humorless man with a penchant for drinking and, according to rumor, brothels. Aunt Delia rarely mentioned him.

She looked at the ring resting in her aunt’s palm. She supposed some women might have liked it, given its obvious value, but it wasn’t at all to her own taste. “Why do you show it to me?”

“Because I want to explain to you what it represents to me. It is a contradictory symbol, embodying all that I thought I wanted and everything I came to deplore. When I look back, when I realize how utterly naive I was when I married Geoffrey…” She shook her head. “I knew nothing. Nothing of the world. And as it turned out, nothing of myself. I was innocent in every way, and when I agreed to a marriage I believed was in my best interest, I thought that my innocence would serve me well.”

She looked at Victoria, a wealth of experience and sadness in her blue eyes. “It did not serve me at all. When I now reflect upon my marriage, all I can think is, ‘If I knew then what I know now…’”

“What?” Victoria finally asked softly when the silence continued, broken only by the ticking of the mantel clock. She held her breath, afraid to say anything else, afraid she would break the mood, making her aunt reconsider sharing these deeply personal confidences.

Her aunt’s expression turned from bleak to fierce. “I would not have made the same choices, Victoria. I would have known to search my heart, my soul, to determine my true desires-not simply those which I just thought I wanted because my plans, my likes, had never been challenged. Then, once I’d determined what I truly wanted, what was truly important to me and my happiness, then I would have made my choices based on what I wanted. Not on what anyone else expected of me. Based on what would please me-not anyone else. And regardless of what battle I chose to wade into, I would have made certain I was well-armed and knew what to expect. Thomas Gray purported in his poetry that ‘ignorance is bliss,’ to which I can only say the man was a fool. As far as I am concerned, a lack of knowledge does not bring bliss-it is a breeding ground for disaster.” She handed the silk bag to Victoria. “I want you to have this.”

Puzzled and curious, Victoria reached into the bag and pulled out a slim book. She stared at it and went perfectly still. She wasn’t certain if she were more shocked that her aunt possessed the volume or that she had given the book to her. She traced unsteady fingers over the discreet gold lettering on the brown leather cover. A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment by Charles Brightmore.

“You know of it, of course,” Aunt Delia said. “Everyone does. It’s been the talk of London for months. And with good reason, as its provocative advice steps far beyond what anyone would consider proper. But it offers direction and information I dearly wish I’d had at my disposal as a young woman. It’s filled with information I want you to have, Victoria. That you need to have. So that you do not make the same mistakes I did. So that you have the knowledge to choose wisely. This trip to Cornwall has provided you with the chance to learn about yourself, far away from Society’s prying eyes. It is an opportunity I dearly wish I’d had, and one I refuse to do anything to deny you.”

Victoria tore her gaze away from the book to look up. Aunt Delia’s blue eyes were filled with love and concern. Now she understood why her aunt had not been more diligent in her chaperoning duties. Without a word, Victoria slipped the book into the silk bag and handed it back to her aunt.

“I cannot accept it.”

A blush stained Aunt Delia’s cheeks. “I’ve shocked you. I’m sorry. It’s just that-”

“Because I couldn’t possibly deprive you of your copy when I already have one of my own.” She cleared her throat. “A much read copy.”

Aunt Delia blinked, then quickly recovered her aplomb. She offered Victoria a gentle smile filled with such understanding, it brought a lump to Victoria’s throat. “Then have your adventure, darling. Live your life to the fullest. Do not allow your gender to determine your destiny. Rather, let Fate’s hand caress you. Leave something to Chance. Follow your heart and see where it leads. You will always have my unwavering support.” She pressed the silk bag containing the book to her chest and a look of determination came over her features. “Follow your heart,” she reiterated softly. “I intend to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I want my heart, my soul, to sing. I deserve the grand passion, the happiness I was denied as a young woman, and should I have the opportunity, I’ll not be denied again. You deserve that passion and happiness as well, my dear.”

Victoria could scarce believe what she was hearing. Surely Aunt Delia wasn’t suggesting that she… But it certainly seemed she was encouraging her to…

Take Nathan as a lover.

Whoosh. The mere idea speared fire through her that threatened to turn all her good intentions to ash. She hadn’t allowed the idea to take root in her mind for fear of it overwhelming her. But now the thought was firmly planted. And growing at an alarming rate.

A knock sounded, startling both of them. “Come in,” Victoria said.

The door opened to reveal Nathan. Victoria’s heart shifted into a different beat. Harder, faster. His gaze swept over her, intense, searching, stealing her breath. Dressed in black breeches, white shirt, and an ivory waistcoat, he looked strong and masculine. And utterly beautiful. A shock of dark hair she knew felt like silk tumbled over his forehead, something that might have looked boyish on another man, but nothing about the man crossing the room could be described as boyish.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said, his gaze taking in both of them. Then his attention focused solely on Victoria. “How are you feeling?”

Breathless. And it’s all your fault. “Much improved. Dinner was delicious.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I confess this isn’t strictly a social call-I’m here as your physician.”

Aunt Delia stood. “Shall I leave?”

“Not at all. Indeed your presence would serve as a distraction for my patient, who has expressed an aversion to doctors. Please, continue your conversation.”

Victoria’s gaze flew to her aunt’s, whose eyes gleamed with unmistakable deviltry and mirth.

“Very well. Now what was it we were discussing, Victoria?” She adopted a puzzled expression and tapped her chin. “Ah, yes. Books we’ve recently read. What was the title you were recommending to me?”

Victoria coughed to disguise the bark of shocked laughter that rose in her throat. Heavens, when had Aunt Delia turned into such a minx? Praying the heat she felt in her cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt, she said in a repressive tone, “Hamlet.”

Aunt Delia was all bafflement. “Are you certain? I thought you said-”

“Hamlet,” Victoria broke in hastily, torn between horror and hilarity. “Definitely Hamlet.”

Aunt Delia batted her eyes behind Nathan’s broad back. “And here I though it was A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

Nathan lifted one of Victoria’s hands and gently examined her scraped palm. “So that is what ladies chat about amongst themselves?” he asked in an amused voice. “Shakespeare?”

“Yes,” Victoria said quickly, before Aunt Delia could act upon the mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Nathan smiled. “And here I thought you talked about men.”

“Shakespeare was a man,” she said in an arid tone, valiantly trying to ignore the tingles of pleasure his touch invoked while he tilted up her chin to peer at her cut.

“I meant living, breathing men.”

“Oh, we talk about them, too,” Aunt Delia chimed in.

“Among other things,” Victoria said with a quelling look at her aunt.

“My father and I missed you ladies at dinner this evening,” Nathan said, lowering the counterpane then smoothing up her night rail just enough to look at her knees. His touch and demeanor were completely impersonal, but there was nothing impersonal about the heat the brush of his hands ignited on her skin.

“Your brother did not dine with you?” Victoria asked, appalled at how breathless she sounded.

“No. He traveled to Penzance earlier today and isn’t expected home until late.” He lowered her gown and covered her again with the sheet. Then he rose and smiled down at her. “Your bumps and cuts and scrapes are all looking fine. And you’re no longer pale.” His gaze touched her cheeks and a frown creased his brow. “In fact, you look rather flushed.” Reaching out, he laid his hand against her forehead. Good Lord, how to tell him that his touch would only serve to brighten her coloring?

“No fever,” he said with unmistakable relief, removing his hand.

“I feel fine. Truly. The ointment you used seemed to absorb the stinging.”

“Good. Still, you will experience some soreness tomorrow. But your warm bath will help that.” His gaze wandered across the room to the big brass tub that two footmen had set near the fireplace earlier. “I’ll arrange for the water to be sent up. And when you’re finished bathing, it’s into the bed for you. You need your rest.”

He turned toward Aunt Delia. “May I escort you downstairs, Lady Delia? My father is in the drawing room, hoping for a backgammon partner.” He leaned toward her and said in a stage whisper, “He does not like to play me because I always beat him.”

“I would be delighted to beat him as well,” Aunt Delia said with a laugh. She leaned over Victoria and pressed a kiss on her cheek. “Think about what I said, darling,” she whispered in her ear.

Nathan escorted her aunt across the room. Before closing the door behind them, he turned around and his gaze sought Victoria’s. A long look passed between them, and her heart pounded, wondering what he was thinking. Something flashed in his eyes, then he said softly, “Enjoy your bath.” And then he was gone.

But very much not forgotten.