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kiss, would tend to his father.
Obviously, she was innocent of a man’s kisses despite her intimate
knowledge of a male’s anatomy. He looked at the serene expression
on the lady opposite him. She was plain, it was true, but she had
an intelligent mind and a kind heart. And he had a notion that if
she were allowed more gaiety in her life and pretty gowns instead
of the prim gray frock she wore at every occasion, she would
blossom into a beautiful woman.
    If he were not the sort of man he was, he
would enjoy deepening the acquaintance and giving her these things.
But ladies of her ilk, or of any ilk, for that matter, were not
part of the future allotted to him. He looked down at the heavy
almond cheesecake Her Grace prized. One bite later, he placed the
heavy silverware on the plate.
     

     
    Charlotte was mortified. She had never found
herself so tongue-tied in all her life. She was behaving like a
milksop debutante incapable of muttering the most insignificant of
trivialities. It was absurd.
    It was those mysterious green eyes of his. Or
the combination of the somber green uniform and his eyes. She
gripped her hands beneath the table and tried to take hold of
herself. She would not be one of those young ladies whose heads
were turned at the sight of a uniform.
    At first, he had been like any other patient,
although more distrustful than most, to be sure. Then when the
fever had lifted, his humor and generosity of spirit had filled
every hour of the time spent in his chambers—all culminating in
that kiss. It was insane. It was as though she was a love-struck
schoolgirl.
    And how had she dared to tap his foot? She
almost thought her threadbare slipper had moved on its own
volition… if she had not known better.
    She’d felt her appetite flee as the meal
progressed, and the young ladies of the ton flanking either
side of him flirted and charmed him throughout each passing course
and remove.
    And just as she’d chosen a topic to engage
his views, she looked up to see his gaze resting on her. Her
thoughts died, and she was sure she looked like a beached fish,
mouth agape. She snapped it shut and returned her attention to the
revolting dessert. Yes, she decided, it most certainly had
something to do with those all-knowing eyes.
    She was going to have to give up reading
those poems of Byron. They were worse still than that novel she
blamed for her embarrassing feminine feelings, which had heretofore
remained blissfully dormant. She had put all romantical nonsense
behind her years ago. Yes, she was going to have to leave off
all reading of Byron and the mysterious “Lady” now .

Chapter Four
     
     
    “ She had been forced into prudence in her
youth, she learned romance as she grew older—the natural sequence
of an unnatural beginning .”
     
    —Persuasion
     
     
    BEGGING your pardon, your lordship, but I
canna read.” The stocky, red-haired stable hand held a thick tome
in his weather-beaten mitts. Nicholas glanced, unseeing, at the man
who stood in front of a small group in a large box stall. He tried
to move his leg to a less painful position as he lay half sitting,
half sprawled next to a dark horse on a thick bed of straw. Her
extended belly was streaked with sweat.
    “Hand the book to Stevens, will you?”
Nicholas asked, not bothering to lift his gaze from the mare. She
was struggling less now, which worried him greatly. Her eyes were
half-closed, and she flailed weakly at the air from time to time
with her forelegs. He knew what was happening, and he knew what he
would have to do. But he was willing to grab at any other recourse.
Where was the damn stable master? Even Stevens, who usually knew
where every blasted servant was at any time of day, had not been
able to locate him.
    “My lord, it says that ‘a maiden mare whose
known foaling time exceeds two hours and who exhibits diminished
strength and heartbeat should be considered beyond salvation. All
efforts should be performed to save the foal. Extended