hand across your brow and call weakly for your hartshorn.”
Insufferable man. Oh, he was attractive and sinfully well-versed in the art of kissing, but insufferable nonetheless. Before she could firmly inform him that she wasn’t prone to headaches or the vapors, voices sounded in the corridor.
“I’ll have your word not to mention this, Victoria.” His voice was a low, deep command.
“Very well. Consider my lips sewn closed.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Now that would be a dreadful waste,” he murmured, so softly she wasn’t even certain he’d said the words. Before she could decide, he gathered the papers and slipped them from the desk. Seconds later a smiling Aunt Delia sailed through the open library doorway, followed by Nathan’s father. “I cannot
Her aunt’s animated words cut off when she saw Nathan and Victoria. “There you both are,” she said, heading straight for the desk. “I’ve the most wonderful news.”
That would explain the rosy tint staining her aunt’s cheeks, the glow in her eyes, and her wide smile. Aunt Delia loved nothing more than imparting news.
“While Lord Rutledge and I were returning from our stroll in the garden, we came across Lord Alwyck, who was returning to his estate,” Aunt Delia said. “He has invited us all to dine with him this evening at Alwyck Hall. Isn’t that marvelous? You simply must wear your new aqua gown, Victoria. You’ll want to look your best, and the color is exquisite on you.” She turned to Nathan. “You should see her in aqua, Dr. Oliver. It’s a sight to behold.”
Heat flared in Victoria’s cheeks. Good Lord, what on earth was Aunt Delia saying?
“I shall count the hours,” Nathan said solemnly, “although I’m certain that Lady Victoria wears every color well. As would you, Lady Delia.”
A noise that could only be described as a girlish giggle came from Aunt Delia, and Victoria stared at her aunt in amazement. “Why, thank you, Dr. Oliver.”
Nathan’s father cleared his throat. “Speaking of attire…” he shot a pointedly raised brow at Nathan’s lack of a jacket and cravat.
Nathan pushed back his chair and rose. “If you will all excuse me, I have some correspondence-”
“And a cravat,” his father intoned.
“-to attend to. I’ll see you all this evening.” He bowed, then strode toward the door, the vellum papers now folded over in one hand.
This evening? Victoria watched him leave the room with the letter and map and wondered exactly what he planned to do between now and then.
Nathan sat in Gordon’s drawing room after dinner and tried to concentrate on the inlaid chessboard set between him and his father, but his attention was focused on the same thing it had been all through the interminable evening.
Victoria.
The torture had commenced three hours and seventeen minutes ago-the instant he’d seen her walking down the stairs toward the foyer where he stood, alone, waiting for the rest of the group to gather to travel to Gordon’s estate. Dressed in a pale aqua muslin gown with short, puffed sleeves and a low, square-cut neckline, her shiny curls twined with ribbon and arranged in a becoming Grecian knot, she moved slowly and gracefully down the wide staircase, as if gliding on air, like a gorgeous sea nymph from a Botticelli painting. She was precisely what her aunt had said she’d be. A sight to behold.
Their gazes met, and she hesitated on the steps, one gloved hand gracefully holding the oak banister while her other hand settled on her stomach, as if to calm a sudden fluttering there. Was it similar to the bewildering commotion the sight of her set up in his own stomach? Although he’d never considered himself a fanciful man, he swore that in that instant something passed between them. Something warm and intimate, and certainly on his part filled with a longing he could neither explain nor deny.
He watched her draw a slow, deep breath, his gaze drawn to the delicate hollow at the base of her throat, which deepened as she inhaled… that fascinating bit of vulnerable skin he knew felt like a swatch of velvet and was scented with the hint of roses. She blinked several times, breaking the spell that seemed to have been cast between them. She then resumed her descent, but had taken no more than two steps when Colin spoke softly from directly behind him. “Exquisite, isn’t she?”
Nathan forced his posture to remain casual, but didn’t bother to turn around. He didn’t want to see the stark admiration he knew would be evident in Colin’s gaze. And he refused to give Colin the opportunity to see the stark longing he suspected still lingered in his own gaze. “Exquisite,” he murmured in agreement, as it was fruitless to deny anything so obvious.
“Pity she has those suitors in London,” Colin whispered. “Of course, I wouldn’t let that stop me.”
Nathan turned around at that. Colin was staring up the staircase with an expression of rapt fascination.
“Stop you from what?” Nathan asked through clenched teeth.
“From going after what I wanted.” He shifted his gaze from Victoria to Nathan. “And making certain I acquired it.” With that, he stepped around Nathan and moved to the bottom of the stairs. Extending his hand toward Victoria, who’d nearly reached the bottom, Colin said, “Lady Victoria, how lovely you look.”
It was not a promising beginning to the evening.
The torture had then continued during the carriage ride to Gordon’s estate. Victoria had sat between her aunt and Colin, while Nathan and his father sat opposite the trio. Colin spent the entire ride regaling the group with some story about what, Nathan had no idea, other than to guess it was apparently quite humorous based on the ensuing laughter. No, he’d been too busy trying-with no success whatsoever-not to notice Victoria smiling at Colin. Her melodic laugh at something he said. The way Colin’s thigh was pressed against hers in the close confines of the carriage. How his shoulder brushed hers with every bump in the road.
His stomach had clenched with an unpleasant sensation that couldn’t be called anything other than what it was: jealousy. It had been some time since he’d experienced the emotion, and he wasn’t happy that it was snaking through him now. And he especially didn’t like that it was his brother inspiring these envious feelings. While he couldn’t deny that he and Colin had occasionally competed while growing up, as brothers were wont to do, they’d rarely done so over anything other than racing their horses or a backgammon board, as their interests were so different. They’d never competed over a woman, as their tastes differed greatly in that area as well. Colin had always preferred aristocratic women, while Nathan’s tastes ran more toward women who didn’t put on Society’s airs. He was attracted to women whose interests reached beyond fashion, gossip, and the weather. In truth, he’d always preferred to spend an evening conversing with a homely bluestocking than engaging in small talk with the most beautiful woman in the room.
Until now, it seemed.
Victoria, with her lofty position in Society and all that entailed, her expensive clothing, her beauty, her numerous suitors who undoubtedly hung on her every word, epitomized the exact opposite of the sort of woman he preferred. Yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Couldn’t stop thinking about her. Couldn’t squelch the remembrance of kissing her. Touching her. Couldn’t control the deep ache of want and lust she inspired.
The torture hadn’t lessened at all during dinner-in fact it worsened with the addition of Gordon, who was also clearly besotted with Victoria. And she seemed extremely flattered by his regard. While she basked in the glow of the attention both Colin and Gordon showered upon her, Nathan’s father and Lady Delia kept up a lively discussion between themselves, leaving Nathan with a great deal of time to observe everyone and eat a meal that he supposed was delicious but tasted like sawdust.
And naturally the torture had continued when, after the interminable meal, the group retired to the drawing room for games. Nathan had been sorely tempted to fabricate an excuse to depart, but after Victoria, her aunt, Colin, and Gordon decided to play whist, Nathan’s father had invited him to share a brandy and a turn at the chessboard. Given the tension between him and his father, the invitation had both surprised and pleased him, and he’d accepted. While he was in no mood for chess, the brandy had sounded extremely welcome, as did the opportunity to perhaps ease the awkwardness between them.
Yet now, working his way through his second brandy, and though he stared at the chessboard, all his attention remained focused on the laughing group across the room. Giving up all hope of concentrating on the game, he moved his rook.
Based on his father’s raised brows, he judged he’d made an unwise move, which was proven seconds later
