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his interaction with her would be minimal. Indeed, he had the entire scenario planned. He’d secure the information she carried with her, then, as soon as possible, send her back to London. He’d hopefully clear his name, then return to his peaceful cottage in Little Longstone and resume his calm existence. Yes, it was indeed an excellent plan.

Three
    Today’s Modern Woman should at first exhibit an aloof manner toward the gentleman she wishes to ensnare. Men enjoy the hunt, the challenge of winning a lady’s favor. If he is interested, wild horses will not stop him from pursuing you. However, once he is firmly ensnared, it is no longer necessary or desirable to remain quite so aloof .
    A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of
Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment
by Charles Brightmore
    A fter finally finishing the animal pen, Nathan introduced his menagerie to their new, temporary home. He bestowed encouraging pats to Reginald’s solid girth, and was rewarded with snuffling oinks. Petunia gently butted his thigh, and he fed her a handful of her favorite flower. “Do not, under any circumstances, tell the gardener,” Nathan warned, running his palm over the goat’s pale brown coat. After making sure his friends were comfortable, Nathan shrugged into his shirt, then walked across the lawns toward Creston Manor. His arms and shouldersached with fatigue, but it was a sensation he relished, as it kept his mind from wandering to areas he wished to avoid.
    As he walked in the long, cool shadow of Creston Manor cast by the waning late afternoon sun, he heard the indistinct sound of a feminine voice. As he neared, he was able to make out the words.
    “The roads were simply frightful due to the rains.”
    Nathan paused near the corner of the house. Leaning his back against the brick facade, he swallowed a groan. Even though it had been three years since he’d heard it, there was no mistaking that voice.
    Lady Victoria had arrived.
    His heart performed the most ridiculous leap, and his brows snapped down in a frown. What the hell was wrong with him? Something, obviously. Perhaps a lack of sleep. Yes, that must be it. For there was no other explanation for such an idiotic reaction. He closed his eyes and thumped the back of his head twice against the stone—lightly, for as tempting as it was to render himself unconscious, there was no point in prolonging the inevitable. The sooner he found out what he needed to know from her, the sooner he could send her back to London.
    He looked down and a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. Lady Victoria would no doubt swoon at the sight of his dirt-streaked breeches, damp, untucked shirt, and scuffed boots. He cheered considerably. All the better to encourage her to depart Cornwall as soon as possible. He supposed he should nip around to the back of the house and change clothes, but with Colin off and Father visiting the village, the duty of greeting the guests fell to him.
    He pushed off from the wall and strode around the corner. A well-appointed coach painted glossy black and bearing the Earl of Wexhall’s family crest stood in the curveddrive. A pair of wilted-looking female servants who were clearly the ladies’ maids waited beside a second carriage bearing more luggage. The heavily mud-splattered exteriors and wheels gave testament to the foul road conditions. Two sets of matching grays stood patiently while Langston and Mrs. Henshaw, Creston Manor’s butler and housekeeper, directed servants on the unloading of the trunks. As he approached, Nathan scanned the group.
    A woman he recognized as Lord Wexhall’s sister Lady Delia was talking to Mrs. Henshaw. Dressed in a dark blue spencer over a cream muslin gown creased with travel wrinkles, and wearing a lace-trimmed bonnet, Lady Delia appeared exactly as Nathan remembered her from their last meeting three years earlier. Twenty years ago she would have been described as beautiful. Today the word still could apply, although