The Book of Love (Books 1-3): A Regency Romance Collection

by Meara Platt

  But Nathaniel adored his family, and she could not see him living a separate existence from his wife and children.

  She did not know Lady Charlotte other than what she’d seen of her at ton parties. She was beautiful, indeed. But otherwise, she hadn’t been impressed. However, she would not express her feelings to Nathaniel since it wasn’t fair to judge a person without really knowing them.

  She would try her best to make Charlotte feel welcome when she arrived. They’d never been formally introduced, but this visit would put them in close quarters and give her the chance to know Nathaniel’s future wife better.

  Nathaniel stretched out on the shaded grass and stared up at the sky. “My mother was a partner to my father in every way. It was more than that. They thrived when in each other’s company. Beast and Goose have that. I hope we all experience this happiness when looking at the one we love.” He turned to stare at her. “I’m glad you haven’t made a cock-up of your life.”

  “Not yet I haven’t. But I’m still young and a Farthingale. Plenty of time to make mistakes.” She cast him a wry smile as she sat down beside him.

  He brushed back another of her curls that had slipped out of its pin under the force of the light breeze, and smiled back as he tucked it securely behind her ear. “You won’t. You’re far too clever. Let’s work on finding the right man for you.”

  “You’re using me as an excuse to divert your mind from your problem. Finding someone for me is not an urgent matter. So, let’s concentrate on you. I have an assignment for you.”

  He groaned.

  “It isn’t so very difficult. Start with making a list for yourself.”

  “What sort of list?”

  “Of the qualities you like about Charlotte.”

  He sat up and frowned at her. “Charlotte?”

  “Yes. Think of the five senses. The look of her. The sound of her laughter. The scent of her body. The touch of her hand.”

  “You forgot the sense of taste.”

  She blushed. “It seems too personal to ask about your kissing her. But I suppose it’s important and cannot be avoided. How did her mouth feel upon yours? How did she taste to you?” She turned away, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. She’d always liked Nathaniel, but had never spent this amount of time alone with him.

  Or noticed the attractive shape of his mouth or the beautiful color of his eyes. They were an extraordinary mix of silvery gray and forest green, and his dark lashes framed them to perfection.

  Indeed, she could not deny there was something exciting about having Nathaniel close to her. She breathed in his scent of sandalwood. It was a clean, male scent. And breathed him in again, this time catching the aroma of the cinnamon bun he’d eaten as well as the one that still remained uneaten and wrapped in a plain linen cloth beside him.

  The Book of Love was proving to be a revelation and a curse for her.

  She had always thought herself a keen observer, but as she began to feel each sensation, to really pay attention to her surroundings and the people around her, she couldn’t help but notice this man who had been in front of her all of her life.

  Nathaniel.

  She liked him.

  She liked him very much.

  But he was about to have a child with Charlotte.

  She wanted to wrap her arms around herself and have a good cry. Nathaniel was lost to her, but would this knowledge stop her from falling in love with him?

  She certainly hoped so, but wasn’t sure.

  *

  Nathaniel often made lists of the business affairs needed to be attended to, so making the list of Charlotte’s strengths and weaknesses Poppy had requested should have been a simple chore. It was late, and everyone had retired to bed hours ago. He was in his chamber, seated at his writing desk with quill pen and parchment in front of him, and a bottle of Scotch whisky beside him. Uisge beatha, water of life, it was called. Source of life.

  He thought it quite ironic since he hadn’t felt himself on firm footing ever since returning to England and assuming his role as earl. The war years had changed him, sucked the life and soul out of him, and despite his outward confidence, he could not help but feel his existence was a muck-filled quagmire at the moment.

  He’d been feeling this way even before this matter with Lavinia had come up.

  He drained the glass he’d poured for himself, savoring the warmth of the amber liquid as it slid down his throat. “Charlotte,” he muttered, attempting to concentrate. He wanted to be diligent in this exercise, but he wasn’t certain how it would help him find the blackmailer.

  However, Poppy wanted him to do this, and he did not wish to disappoint her.

  He returned to the task of drawing up his list.

  The look of Poppy.

  He scratched it out and tried again. The look of Charlotte. Eyes, beady and assessing. Smile, insincere.

  He scratched that out and gave up for the evening.

  He wasn’t being fair to Charlotte.

  He’d try again tomorrow, perhaps think more clearly after a good night’s rest.

  He undressed and set his clothes aside for his valet to attend to in the morning. His skin felt damp from the August heat. He’d left his window open and crossed to it to soak in the breeze, for he needed to cool down. But the air was laden with moisture and the wind was gusting, a sign that rain was in the offing.

  Even the moon looked odd tonight, a big, red ball hovering low over the pond. A blood moon that the villagers believed was a harbinger of ill tidings to come. Ill tidings, indeed. A few more days and the Winthrows would arrive.

  Would Lavinia’s blackmailer use their visit to ruin his aunt?

  He peered into the darkness. His quarters faced the front of the house. His view was of the drive leading up to the manor and its elegant gate. From his window, he also saw the pond and the meadow separating his manor house from Gosling Hall where Beast and Olivia now resided.

  He shook his head and quietly laughed. Whoever would have thought the mighty and powerful Alexander Beastling, Duke of Hartford, would fall for his Little Goose? That’s what Olivia had been to Beast. He’d given her the pet name because she was a little girl and her name was Gosling.

  Nathaniel wanted what the newlywed pair had, but how was he to find love while his soul was still in pain? He’d recognized the same pain in Beast and Thad, and imagined most men who’d fought in wars, didn’t matter which ones, would not easily forget those years out of their lives.

  Some overcame it and moved on.

  He hadn’t yet.

  Bah.

  He shook off the grim thoughts that seemed to plague him in the dark of night. Lavinia was the urgent problem. He wasn’t ready to reveal the blackmail plot to his family or friends, but knew Beast and Thad would listen and offer their support when the time came.

  He hoped it would never come. But how did one go about finding a blackmailer whose identity was unknown? He’d been quietly asking around, discreetly questioning his staff and others in town about anything odd they’d noticed recently.

  Nothing had turned up.

  It also bothered him that Poppy had guessed Lavinia’s situation. How could she know? Had he inadvertently revealed something? Had Lavinia confided in her about the child she’d given up? He wouldn’t be surprised, for Poppy had a trustworthy manner about her and was never one to pass judgment. She was the sort of person one turned to when needing to unburden one’s soul.

  What will Charlotte and her father make of her?

  He did not like that Charlotte’s guest bedchamber would be next to Poppy’s. In truth, he did not like that Poppy would be here when the Winthrows and the rest of his upper crust friends arrived.

  He could make up a pretext to send Poppy away.

  No, that wouldn’t work. Neither Penelope nor Lavinia would ever allow her to go. They adored Poppy. She would have to stay, just as she had most summers throughout her life, in the guest bedchamber she’d always been given, the one next door to Penelope�
��s bedchamber. The one that overlooked the garden so Poppy could enjoy the flowers in full bloom and the lush, green trees.

  Now that Beast and Olivia were settled at Gosling Hall, he was going to give Olivia’s room to Charlotte, and her father would take Beast’s quarters. He wasn’t eager to have the Duke of Winthrow or his daughter in his home just now, but he would have to make the best of it.

  After all, he’d invited them.

  He hoped Penelope and Thad would behave themselves, but those two were hotheaded and more likely to stir things up rather than calm them down.

  No, Poppy was the voice of reason. She was the friend who would stand by Lavinia and love her with all the strength in her compassionate heart once the scandal broke.

  He hoped Charlotte and her father would not eat the sweet girl alive.

  He turned away and fell naked into his bed.

  Moonlight filtered in through his window, its glow an ominous, dark red instead of its usual shimmering silver.

  Still, he imagined Poppy beside him, moonlight falling across her peaceful face.

  “Gad, you’re an arse.” He was only thinking of Poppy because she was a comforting presence and he was used to having her in his home.

  That he now wanted her in his bed was proof of how twisted his mind was at the moment. Such thoughts would only lead him into deeper trouble. She was his sister’s best friend. She was the gangly, scrawny girl who spent summer weekends at their home. “Keep thinking of her as that.”

  Because she did not deserve to be thought of as the luscious young woman he ached to hold in his arms. Acting upon such thoughts would bring her down along with him, and he’d never do anything to hurt Poppy.

  So why couldn’t he shake the feeling he was about to hurt her deeply?

  Chapter Four

  Nathaniel. Test frog. Day two.

  All hope lost.

  It came as no surprise to Nathaniel that he was out of sorts and had hardly closed his eyes by morning. It was early yet, but he knew his staff had already begun their day. He and Thad had promised to take Pip riding with them. He’d bought the boy a gentle mare that would be easy enough to control, provided Pip did not do anything foolish.

  Hah! That was a lark. Pip had an uncanny ability to do precisely the thing you did not want him to do. Obviously, a trait that ran in the Sherbourne family. If Pip behaved, it was because of his desire to ride with the men and he knew the privilege would be revoked if he played any of his tricks.

  But it was raining hard and there would be no riding this morning.

  He washed and dressed and strode into the dining room in time for breakfast. Thad, Penelope, and Poppy were seated at the table. Pip had been and gone by the look of the trail of crumbs and the soiled linen beside an empty plate. “Devil-child has eaten, I see.”

  His sister laughed. “I don’t know why we allow him to take his meals with us. He can’t sit still for more than five minutes, if that. He dropped a spider in Poppy’s eggs this morning.”

  Nathaniel turned to her with concern. “Poppy, I’m sorry.”

  She smiled at him, obviously not at all distressed by Pip’s antics. “I ought to be flattered. I believe this is his way of telling me that he likes me.”

  Thad turned to Penelope with a smirk. “What do ye think, Loopy? Shall I place a spider in your eggs as a peace token between us?”

  Nathaniel’s sister arched an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you love to do just that? A big, hairy poisonous one, I’ll wager.”

  Thad sighed. “Right, one that will sting you in your uptight arse and–”

  “Children, behave.” Nathaniel frowned at both of them. At times, they were worse than Pip, who was merely a child and didn’t know any better. “Where’s Aunt Lavinia?”

  Poppy responded, giving him a meaningful glance. “She wasn’t feeling well this morning. Nothing too serious, just some aches and pains in her bones. They’ll pass along with this rainstorm, I’m sure.”

  “I’ll look in on her a little later,” his sister said. “She might enjoy the company.”

  Thad set down his coffee cup. “I’ll keep Pip occupied, perhaps teach him how to play chess. We’ll see how long it takes before the lad tips over the board.”

  Nathaniel thanked his friend. “I have some documents to review this morning. It shouldn’t take me long.”

  Poppy cleared her throat.

  He turned to her. Right, the damn list. “Give me an hour and then come into my study with that book.” He scowled at Thad and Penelope when they began to chortle. “There is no magic within its pages. I’m only indulging this nonsense to make certain you fools don’t lead Poppy astray.”

  He finished his breakfast and retired to his study to take care of Wellesford matters that needed his immediate attention. New contracts for the gristmill. Repairs needed to some of the tenant farms. Donation toward a new roof on the vicarage house. Why were these church roofs always in need of repair?

  He looked up when he heard a light knock at his door. “Enter.”

  Poppy walked in with The Book of Love in hand, but took no more than a couple of steps forward before stopping. “It’s been an hour, Nathaniel. Are you ready for me or shall I come back later?”

  He sighed as he tucked away his papers. “I’m ready. Come in and shut the door.”

  She hesitated.

  He rose to do it himself. “No one in my household will remark on it. My servants are discreet, and neither Thad nor my sister will notice or care since they’re always too busy trying to murder each other.”

  She laughed and took the offered seat across the desk from him. He settled back in his chair. “I haven’t made the list. I tried last night. Couldn’t get my mind around it.”

  “We can work on it together now.” She placed the book on his desk. It did not look particularly extraordinary, just old with its red-leather binding now faded. There was no gold leaf or ornate artwork amid the lettering as one would find in an illuminated manuscript. “Take out a sheaf of writing paper and we’ll start. Let’s work on the sense of sight first. What are Charlotte’s best features? That ought to be easy enough. She’s a pretty girl.”

  Why was she pushing Charlotte on him again? Just because he’d invited her this weekend? “Why don’t we start with making a list of your attributes, Poppy?”

  Poppy sighed. “No, it’s best if we use Charlotte for this exercise.”

  “Very well, but you are not to use Andrew Gordon for your part. Got that?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you’ve made it quite clear. Back to your assignment.”

  “Right, her best features. She has nice hair. A pretty gold color. Her eyes are blue, I think.” He shrugged. “I suppose they are. They’re nice enough. Not a lot of intelligence behind them. A little dull, in truth.”

  “Keep to the point, Nathaniel. Think of her strengths.”

  “She has a nice body. Her outward looks aren’t the problem.”

  “That’s good. So, if you look at her as though meeting her for the first time, you’d find her very pretty.”

  He nodded.

  “A suitable vessel into which to spill my seed,” he said ruefully. Had Olivia put Beast through this nonsense? He supposed if his friend could tolerate it, then he could as well.

  “Let’s move on to the sense of hearing. Do you like the sound of her voice? Her laughter?” Poppy leaned forward as he began to write. “You’re frowning again. Why is this so difficult for you?”

  “It’s a stupid assignment.”

  “Goodness, were you always this bad-tempered as a schoolboy? Do stop frowning. Does she have a nice voice? A nice laugh?”

  “I never paid attention. I don’t think she laughs much.”

  “That’s interesting.” Poppy was staring at him as though expecting him to drop a brilliant revelation. “Nathaniel, why do you think she never laughs?”

  He shrugged again. “I didn’t say she never laughs, only that I hadn’t noticed. Perhaps she doesn’t find me fu
nny. Perhaps I wasn’t listening to her when I ought to have been.”

  “Perhaps she’s sad.”

  Poppy had the softest way of kicking his arse to Bedfordshire and back, showing him to be the callous dolt he was. But this was the strength of women, especially Poppy, to get into another person’s heart and sense what they were feeling.

  The possibility that Charlotte was sad had never entered his mind. “You put me to shame, Poppy. I never once considered… why do you think she’s unhappy?”

  “Don’t you know? You’ll have to talk to her and put her mind at ease.”

  He arched an eyebrow and cast her a wry, mirthless smile. “We all know how productive that will be. Men don’t listen very well, do they?”

  “We listen for different things. Men tend to be direct. If I were to tell you that I hurt, you would ask, ‘Where does it hurt?’ I’ll fetch a doctor, and that would be the end of the conversation. But women listen for the feelings behind the statement. Why does it hurt? How does it hurt? Who caused your hurt?”

  She glanced at The Book of Love, as though attempting to absorb its wisdom. Nathaniel did not believe her cleverness came from those chapters. Poppy had a natural intelligence and a genuine compassion.

  “Let’s move on, Poppy. But would you mind if I took this book for a few hours? I’d like to read it. I promise not to damage it in any way. I still want to go over the list of senses with you first. This will be a means of reinforcing what you’ve taught me.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, wanting to say more to her but not certain how to proceed. Perhaps saying nothing was best for now. Poppy was showing a side of herself that he’d never known existed. Of course, he hadn’t been looking. Or listening. “We’ve covered sight and hearing. What next?”

  “The sense of smell. What is her scent? Did it attract you to her?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know. I think I was drunk when we first met.”

  “You were?” She shook her head in confusion. “Well, you weren’t always drunk. Just that one time, right? Oh, dear. You have such a blank look on your face.” She pursed her lips in thought. “Seriously, Nathaniel. Why is this so difficult for you?”