old and infirm and she knew he wouldn't have survived the rigorous ocean journey. She'd left him behind along with a piece of her heart, with people who loved him almost as much as she did.
Forcing aside the melancholy that thoughts of Patch evoked she drew a likeness of Gadzooks. When she finished however, she quickly banished the kitten from her mind. If she thought about the furry beast, she'd recall the rest of her time in the garden… and the man she'd met there. The man whose hidden sadness and loneliness had touched her heart, a man she knew had secrets that tore at his soul.
She'd offered to help him, but she'd spent half the night wondering if she'd been too hasty. The Duke of Bradford obviously did not believe in her second sight.
Could she somehow convince him? After last evening, it did not appear so, but she wanted, needed to help him. Wanted to erase the shadows she'd felt darkening his happiness. And needed, for herself, to try and make up for the havoc she'd caused in America. Surely her guilt would ease if she could somehow reunite the duke with the brother he believed dead.
No, she had not been too hasty in offering to help him. In fact, she was determined to do so, whether he wanted her to or not. All she needed to do was provide some sort of definite proof that his brother was indeed alive. To do that, however, she'd need to touch him again.
Heat shot through her at the thought. He'd haunted her sleep, his handsome face, his intense eyes, his strong body. He'd made her wish, for one useless instant, that she'd looked beautiful and elegant, and that a man like him might actually be interested in her for more than a fleeting moment. And he had been interested as she'd discovered when he'd touched her hand. He had wanted to kiss her.
His thoughts had come to her so clearly, so unexpectedly. Her breath caught at the thought of his lips caressing hers, his strong arms pulling her close, pressing her against his body. What would it feel like to be kissed by such a man? Touched and held by him?
A sigh escaped her, the sort of feminine sigh she'd thought herself incapable of. Shifting herself to a more comfortable position, she gave in to her longing, closed her eyes, and imagined what his kiss would feel like.
Austin caught sight of a yellow skirt fluttering in the breeze and reined Myst to a halt. Bloody hell, was he
He would have turned back, but he'd ridden Myst hard for the last hour and the gelding needed a rest and a drink.
Resigned to making idle conversation for a few moments with one of his mother's houseguests, he approached the lake. As he rounded the huge oak tree, he drew up short.
It was her. The woman who had disrupted his sleep and invaded his every thought since he awoke. The woman he needed to find out more about. She sat beneath the shady tree, her eyes closed a half smile touching her lips.
He dismounted and walked quietly toward her, studying her all the while. Shiny auburn curls surrounded her face in windblown disarray. He scrutinized her in an unhurried fashion, taking in her porcelain skin, long lashes, and those remarkable, tempting lips.
His gaze continued downward drawn to her slender throat and the creamy skin that glowed above her modest bodice. Her legs appeared impossibly long under her muslin gown.
The breeze dislodged another curl from her somewhat haphazard chignon, and it brushed across her mouth. Her lips twitched several times and her eyes peeked open a crack as she flicked the bothersome lock aside.
Austin knew the exact instant she saw his black riding boots in front of her. She stiffened and blinked. Then her gaze traveled upward and she gasped.
'Your grace!' She bounded to her feet and performed a curtsy that most would have labeled graceless, but that he found utterly charming.
'Good morning, Miss Matthews. It seems you were correct when you predicted you would not be hard to find. I seem to run into you everywhere I go.'
Heat flashed in Elizabeth's cheeks. How discon-certing to be daydreaming of a man kissing you breathless only to open your eyes and find that very man watching you. And good heavens, what a wildly attractive man he was.
The filtered light from the rising sun shimmered on his raven hair. A single, windblown lock fell across his forehead lending him an almost boyish appeal completely at odds with the compelling intensity of his gray eyes. Aristocratic bearing and masculine strength all but oozed from his tall, rugged frame.
A stark white shirt covered his broad shoulders. He wore no neckcloth and the strong tanned column of his neck rose from the opening in the fine lawn. Her heart sped up at the sight of a few dark hairs peeping up from that intriguing opening before his shirt thwarted her view.
His wide chest tapered in a perfect V to narrow hips, and his long, muscular legs were covered in buff breeches that disappeared into shiny black leather riding boots. She imagined a string of broken-hearted females littered the streets of London. He'd certainly make a wonderful subject to sketch.
'Do I pass inspection?' he asked in an amused drawl.
'Inspection?'
'Yes.' A half grin touched his lips. 'It's an English word meaning 'to examine thoroughly''
Although he was clearly teasing, hot chagrin flooded her. Good heavens, she was indeed staring at him as if she was starving and he was a banquet. But at least he no longer seemed upset with her.
'Forgive me, your grace. I'm simply surprised to see you here.' Her eyes narrowed on a mark on his cheek. 'Did you injure yourself?'
He gingerly touched the spot. 'A branch caught me. 'Tis only a scratch.'
A soft nickering claimed her attention and she glanced at the magnificent black gelding drinking from the lake. 'Are you enjoying your ride?'
'Very much.' He looked around. 'Where is your mount?'
'I walked. It's a lovely morn-' An image flashed in her mind cutting off her words. A horse rearing, a black horse very much like the one drinking from the lake.
'Are you all right, Miss Matthews?'
The image vanished and she dismissed the vague impression. 'Yes, I'm fine. Actually, I'm-'
'Most robust.'
She grinned. 'Yes, I am, but I was going to say I'm hungry. Would you care to join me in something to eat? I brought more than enough.' She dropped to her knees and began unloading food from her knapsack.
'You packed breakfast?'
'Well, not exactly breakfast. Just some raw carrots, apples, bread and cheese.'
Austin watched her, intrigued. He'd never been invited to such an informal picnic. Here was a perfect opportunity to spend some time with her. What better way to ferret out her secrets and determine exactly what she knew about William and the blackmail letter? Settling himself on the ground next to her, he accepted a slice of bread and a chunk of cheese. 'Who packed your picnic?'
'I did. Yesterday morning, before leaving London, I helped Aunt Joanna's cook with a problem. In gratitude, Cook told me I could help myself.' She polished an apple on her skirt.
Austin bit into the cheese, surprised that something so simple could taste so good. No fancy sauces, no muted clink of silverware, no servants hovering. 'What did you do to help Cook?'
'She cut her finger and suffered a wound that required several stitches. I was in the kitchen searching for some cider when the accident occurred. Naturally, I offered to help.'
'You sent for a doctor?'
She raised her brows, amusement lurking in her eyes. 'I treated the injury and then stitched her up myself.'
Austin nearly choked on his cheese.
'Yes. There was no need to bother a doctor when I was perfectly capable of taking care of her. I believe I mentioned last evening that my father was a physician. I often helped him.'
'You actually performed er,
'Oh, yes. Papa was a very good teacher. I assure you, Cook was well taken care of.' She offered him a smile,
