those jewels. And they’ll do anything to succeed.” He laid his hand atop hers then turned his head to lightly kiss her abraded palm. “Promise me you will not venture anywhere outside the house alone.” He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but the scare he’d suffered still lurked within him.
“I promise.”
With a nod, he rose. “I’m going to tell your aunt and my father what happened. Then I’ll send your aunt to you so she can settle you in your bedchamber and help you change clothes.”
Because he couldn’t stop himself, he leaned down and brushed his lips against her brow. Then he quit the room. As he walked down the corridor, his lips pressed into a grim line. He didn’t know who was responsible for this, but unlike three years ago, he wasn’t going to walk away this time. This time he’d have his answers. And the person responsible would pay.
Sixteen
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 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
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.
