“Yes, well, I’m afraid that that is what men like to do with women they love-take care of them.”
His softly spoken words set up a fluttering in her stomach. “Yet Today’s Modern Woman can take care of herself.”
“Still, it is nice to have someone to share both the good and bad things life offers.”
She considered his words for several seconds, then nodded. “Yes, I suppose that is true.”
He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees and regarded her solemnly. Her breath caught with awareness at his sudden proximity, filling her head with his clean, masculine scent. Her heart thumped hard at the serious expression in his dark eyes.
Silence swelled for several seconds, then he said, “Do you realize that we’ve been in this coach for nearly a
She blinked. “By God, you’re right.”
“Again we agree!”
“And this in spite of the fact that the words ‘Today’s Modern Woman’ were spoken.”
“Three times,” he said.
“Twice.”
“Ah. I knew it was too good to last.”
She couldn’t help but smile at him, and she absorbed the warmth that suffused her when he smiled in return. The carriage jerked to a stop, and she forced her gaze away from him to look out the window. They’d arrived at Kelby Manor.
A house filled with people where she would not have to spend a cozy evening alone with Mr. Stanton. Which was precisely what she needed.
For, as their enjoyable carriage ride had just illustrated, Mr. Stanton was proving increasingly difficult to avoid and ignore.
Swirling a brandy in one of the duke’s fine crystal snifters, Andrew stood in a group of gentlemen who were discussing some nature of farming techniques. Or perhaps they were discussing sheep. Or was it finances? As his attention was firmly fixed across the room, he wasn’t quite certain.
Lady Catherine stood near the fireplace chatting with her friend Mrs. Ralston, and while he could have happily stared at Lady Catherine’s lovely profile all evening, he was currently more intent upon the men casting their gazes in her direction.
Based on the number of gentlemen attending whom Andrew had met at Lord Ravensly’s birthday party in London, the duke had obviously made good on his promise to invite his friends to take the waters. Standing near the punch bowl, Lords Avenbury and Ferrymouth were staring at Lady Catherine as if she were a sweet in the confectioner’s shop. Then there was Lord Kingsly, that married reprobate, eyeing her in a way that had Andrew tightening his grip on his snifter. And near the French windows stood Dr. Oliver, to whom Andrew had been introduced shortly after arriving, making what he assumed were his “mooning eyes” at Lady Catherine. It wouldn’t take much convincing for Andrew to blacken both of his damned mooning eyes-
“-Don’t you agree, Mr. Stanton?”
Andrew jerked his attention back. The duke, Lord Borthrasher, Mr. Sidney Carmichael, and Lord Nordnick all looked at him with expectant expressions. “Agree?”
“That women today are becoming far too bold in expressing their opinions,” said the duke.
“I have noticed, yes,” he said dryly. “Yet I prefer a lady to say what she thinks.”
“But often what they’re thinking is utter nonsense,” protested Lord Borthrasher.
“I suppose that depends on the lady,” Andrew said.
“Well, they’re just far too opinionated if you ask me,” the duke said. “My nieces, for instance.” He jerked his head toward the trio of pastel-clad young ladies twittering near the open doors leading to the terrace. “Haven’t an intelligent thought amongst the silly lot. Earlier today the youngest informed me that she had no intention of marrying for fortune-she would only marry for
“Extremely unfashionable to be in love with one’s wife,” Lord Borthrasher remarked. He turned to Lord Nordnick. “Hope you’re planning to choose wisely, Nordnick.”
A deep flush crept up the young man’s neck. “Surely it is possible to make an advantageous match with a woman one also loves.”
“Nonsense,”said the duke, with a wave of his hand. “Choose a wife based on her family and fortune, then count your blessings if she is someone you can live with without undue stress. Save your love for your mistress.”
Lord Nordnick looked at Andrew. “You’re an American, Mr. Stanton. As such, do you have a different opinion?”
“Yes. Rather than marrying a woman I could live with, I’d marry the woman I couldn’t live without.”
Lord Borthrasher harrumphed. “And you, Carmichael? What is your opinion?”
“It is a father’s right and duty to have his daughter marry as he sees fit,” said Mr. Carmichael.
Andrew tensed. Before he could stop himself, he asked softly, “And if the daughter disagrees with her father’s choice of groom?”
Mr. Carmichael turned toward him with a measuring look. He raised his hand to stroke his chin, and the diamond on his ring flashed. “She would be wise not to. Interfering with such arrangements is begging for disaster.”
“Well, I’m hopeful my brother-in-law will be able to marry off those three silly chits of his,” the duke said. “The sooner the better, I say.”
A movement across the room caught Andrew’s attention, and he turned. Dr. Oliver was heading toward Lady Catherine. “If you gentlemen will excuse me?” With a nod, he stepped out of their circle. Before he crossed the room, however, he leaned behind Lord Nordnick and said quietly, “I have it on the best authority that Lady Ophelia holds a fondness for tulips.”
Satisfied that he’d done what he could for Nordnick’s courting attempts, it was time to see to his own. As he made his way across the room, his gaze raked over Dr. Oliver in critical assessment. He’d hoped the doctor would prove old, decrepit, and frail. Bald. With a hideous paunch. And brown teeth. Or better yet, no teeth. With a countenance that resembled that of a hound. An ugly, no-tooth, paunchy, bald hound.
Unfortunately the doctor was tall, robust, and certainly not much over thirty, if he were that old. Andrew watched grimly as Dr. Oliver’s face-his damned good-looking face-lit up like a bloody candle as he approached Lady Catherine. His grin displayed a set of perfectly even white teeth. Andrew felt a strong urge to uneven those teeth.
“A word with you Oliver?” he asked, strategically waylaying the man before he reached the fireplace.
Dr. Oliver halted and nodded at Andrew. “Of course. Didn’t have much of a chance to speak with you when we were introduced earlier. Pleasure to meet the explorer fellow who’s starting the museum with Lady Catherine’s brother. Tales of your exploits with Lord Greybourne have provided many hours of entertaining conversation between Lady Catherine and myself.”
“Have they indeed?” Andrew said silkily. “Did she tell you the legend of the unfortunate suitor?”
Dr. Oliver frowned, then shook his head. “I don’t believe so.”
“Very sad tale. A misguided young man-who oddly enough was a physician-set his sights on the object of another man’s affections. As the lady was extremely lovely, the man-who was a very reasonable gentleman- understood the physician’s fascination with her and decided he would give the physician fair warning. He looked the physician straight in the eye, and said, ‘The lady regards you as nothing more man a friend, and you’d be wise to remember that. If you make any further advances toward my woman, I’ll be forced to hurt you.’ ” Andrew shook his head sadly. “Frightfully barbaric lot, those ancient Egyptians.”
Understanding slowly dawned in the doctor’s gaze, and his jaw tightened. “You don’t say. So what did the doctor do?”
“According to the legend, he backed away. A most intelligent decision.”
They stared at each other for several seconds, then Dr. Oliver said, “I’m certain that if the physician backed away, it was because he realized that the lady did indeed regard him only as a friend. Not because he was a coward.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Because if the lady had given the physician any indication that
