Not Quite A Gentleman

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 post dinner 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 spacious 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.

He shot a scowl at the offending vial, then, after slipping his handkerchief away, resolutely turned toward the wardrobe to begin his search for the note Lord Wexhall had indicated he’d concealed in Lady Victoria’s luggage. He eyed the two trunks stacked in the corner, but didn’t change course. Wexhall had indicated in the coded letter that he would utilize Lady Victoria’s portmanteau to secrete his note.

As he passed the bedside table, he paused to look at the books, unable to resist learning what sort of reading material Lady Victoria preferred. Lifting the two top volumes, he perused the titles. Letter to the Women of England on the Injustice of Mental Subordination by Mary Robinson and A Vindication of the Rights of Woman by Mary Wollstonecraft. His brows shot upward. He’d expected nothing more strenuous than Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels. It appeared Lady Victoria harbored some bluestocking tendencies. He picked up the remaining three books and noted with an inward smile that two of them were indeed novels by Mrs. Radcliffe, and the third Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew. Nathan’s lips twitched. How apt.

He replaced the books, intrigued in spite of himself by Lady Victoria’s eclectic choices in reading materials. He had assumed she thought of nothing more profound than which gown to wear to her next social engagement. Shaking off the thought, he resumed crossing to the wardrobe.

Grasping the brass handles, he pulled open the oak doors. Instantly his senses were wrapped in the delicate scent of roses that clung to her garments. Gritting his teeth, he firmly told himself that he detested roses and knelt down. He pushed aside the colorful array of gowns. In the back left corner he spied a portmanteau. He pulled the soft-sided leather case toward him and quickly opened it, scanning the upper edge. He immediately saw where clumsy stitches had repaired the lining, and a frown yanked down his brows. Wexhall must be losing his touch to leave such sloppy work behind. Not bothering to take care, as a rip could always be easily explained away, he tore the brown satin lining and slid his hand into the opening. A thorough examination of the space yielded nothing.

Damnation, where was the bloody note? He felt around again, but nothing. Frustrated, he slid his hand out then thrust it into the interior of the bag. His fingers encountered what felt like a book, and he quickly pulled it from the bag. Tilting the slim volume toward the light cast by the fire burning in the grate, he read the title: A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment by Charles Brightmore.

Again his brows rose. Even living in the small, secluded village of Little Longstone, he was aware of the scandal this explicit treatise on women’s behavior was currently causing. He found it fascinating to discover such a book hidden in Lady Victoria’s luggage. Fascinating, and titillating.

He flipped through the pages to ascertain that Lord Wexhall’s note wasn’t tucked between the pages, and wasn’t surprised to discover it was not. He flipped through the book again, then paused when the word “lovemaking” caught his eye. Opening to the page, he scanned the paragraph.

Today’s Modern Woman must realize that lovemaking is not something to be enjoyed only by men and simply endured by women. Be an active participant. Tell your partner what you want. What feels good. Do not doubt that he will be delighted to oblige you. And do not be afraid to touch him-most especially in the ways that you yourself would like to be touched. And the best way to ascertain how you like being touched is to touch yourself to discover what you find pleasurable. After doing so, Today’s Modern Woman would then certainly tell her gentleman what she‘d learn. Or better yet, show him.

Heat engulfed Nathan, and before he could control his runaway thoughts, his mind filled with an erotic fantasy of her, naked, standing in front of a mirror, slowly running her hands down her supple body. Watching her reflection,