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

by Meara Platt

  He was free to marry her.

  But he’d told Penelope he was going to offer for Charlotte.

  Was it true?

  No, it can’t be. He didn’t even know the color of her eyes or recall her scent other than to remark she’d probably arrive smelling of sweating horses.

  No man in love spoke like that about his beloved.

  Her heart beat faster and the little butterflies in her stomach began to flutter.

  She’d wasted precious days having him fall in love with Charlotte. Thank goodness he’d been dense as a donkey and learned nothing in all this time.

  But Poppy put her elation aside for the moment, for she had to consider this new and most urgent revelation about Lavinia.

  Mother in heaven. Lavinia had a secret baby.

  Nathaniel had revealed the secret to her believing she already knew it. Of course, it was safe with her and she would never tell a soul, not even Penelope and Olivia.

  “I’ve gotten nowhere on the investigation,” Nathaniel said, his brow furrowing as he stared at the letter. “And I can’t put my regular men on it because they’re outsiders and will draw too much attention if they start asking questions in town. And what can they ask without giving Lavinia’s secret away?”

  She had to help him, of course.

  “I thought to compare both letters. The one sent to Lavinia earlier and the love letter you received today. Hopefully, that will give us some clues.”

  “No wonder you fairly leaped across the table to snatch it out of my hands.” She wanted to cry tears of joy. Was it possible she had a chance with Nathaniel?

  She held her breath as she studied the letters while standing beside him. He now held them side-by-side to compare them. “Oh, Nathaniel. They don’t look at all alike.”

  She could not mask her disappointment. They now had two mysteries to solve. Not that finding out the identity of her secret admirer was so important. It could wait.

  In truth, she didn’t care if his identity was ever discovered.

  She’d just kissed the man of her dreams.

  But now that he’d read The Book of Love from cover to cover and gained all the wisdom it contained, how could she lure him into loving her?

  Was it possible these love ‘recipes’ would work on him anyway?

  She wasn’t certain, but she’d come up with a plan with the help of Olivia and Penelope.

  Nathaniel simply had to fall under her siren spell.

  But how did one go about becoming an irresistible siren in the matter of a day?

  Chapter Nine

  “It seems logical someone had to know Lavinia’s secret back when it happened.” Poppy concentrated on the blackmail letter and not the handsome man standing beside her, wreaking havoc on her composure. “Perhaps if we begin our search back then, we’ll come up with some answers.”

  Nathaniel stood deliciously close to her.

  They were still in his study. Only a few minutes had passed since he’d shaken her to her toes with not one, but two, perfect kisses.

  She felt the graze of his muscled shoulders as he leaned forward while they both pored over the blackmail letter again.

  “I thought of that, but who other than my grandfather or my parents would have known? They’re no longer around to tell me.” He grunted in disgust. “The village elders might know who Lavinia’s friends were at the time then or if she ever had a beau. But what am I to ask? Were you aware Lavinia had a baby about two years before I was born?”

  Poppy sighed. “The identity of her best friend back then is obvious.”

  “It is?”

  She nodded. “Lavinia grew up at Sherbourne. It stands to reason she was friendly with other girls her age. She and Lady Plimpton are about the same age. They’ve been friends forever. Isn’t it obvious?”

  “To you, perhaps,” he muttered. “Her rat of a nephew must have somehow gotten his hands on–”

  “Nathaniel! Stop accusing Andrew Gordon. You have no proof.”

  “I have something better than proof. I have good instincts.” He set the letter down atop his desk and began to flex his hands, curling them and then relaxing them, then repeating the motion.

  “For pity’s sake. What do you plan to do? Beat a confession out of him?” She met his frown with one of her own. “You’re growling again.”

  “I am not.”

  “You’re giving me that angry wolf look.” The swirls of gray and green in his eyes were quite intense and lethal. He reminded her of a predator on the hunt. “What would prompt Lady Plimpton to reveal Lavinia’s secret now? And why to him? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Obviously, she would have done so inadvertently.”

  She nibbled her lip in thought. “Forget the Plimptons for the moment. There are others who could have found out the information. An old servant.”

  “Ours are loyal.” He folded his arms across his chest, obviously to mark his indignation.

  “All of them?”

  He looked severe and massive and immovable. “Yes, every last one of them.”

  She sighed. “A midwife, perhaps. A physician? Not that they would ever send such a note, but someone might have come across old records. A baptismal record? We could ask Vicar Carstairs for permission to view those.”

  He grumbled.

  “You know I’m right.”

  “I’m the damn earl here. I don’t have to ask for anyone’s permission.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Indeed, your lordship. Just stomp into the vicarage and shout your demands.”

  He dropped his arms to his sides and cast her a wry grin. “Stop kicking my arse. I’m angry. I’m frustrated. I want to beat the stuffing out of the blackguard who wants to hurt my aunt.”

  She placed a hand on his arm, ignoring the tingle that shot through her the moment her fingers came to rest on his taut muscle. Up close, he was bigger than she realized. Warrior big and his shoulders were broad. His arms were as hard as iron bands.

  She stifled a sigh. “So do I. Let’s visit the vicar this afternoon. We can stop by Dr. Carmichael’s infirmary afterward and ask to sort through his predecessor’s records.”

  “He’ll want a reason.”

  She tipped her gaze up to his. “You’re the earl here. You don’t have to give a reason.”

  He grinned, but it soon faded. “Poppy, how long have you known Lavinia’s secret?”

  “Do you want the truth or an appeasing lie?”

  “The truth. Always.” He arched an eyebrow, obviously uncertain where this conversation would take them.

  “Very well.” Indeed, she never wanted to be anything but honest with him. He would be angry, but so be it. One thing she’d learned from reading The Book of Love was that trust was vital in order to form those deeper, lasting connections. If Nathaniel did not trust her, then he would never fall in love with her. No amount of seduction would ever work on him.

  Not that it mattered, for how did one go about becoming an irresistible seductress? The two glorious kisses they’d shared had come about because she’d demanded to be kissed, practically begged him to kiss her and he’d done so reluctantly. “I know you think Lavinia shared this secret with me, but she didn’t.”

  He shook his head and frowned. “She let it slip somehow, and you were perceptive enough to figure it out?”

  “No.” She took a deep breath and continued. “You did.”

  “What? I let it slip?”

  She nodded.

  He shook his head again and gave a curt, exasperated laugh. “How is it possible? I never said a word to you about it.”

  “That’s true. Until now.”

  He appeared even more confused, so she pressed on. “All this time, we have been talking of different problems. It all started the other day by the pond when we were speaking of babies and why a man would abandon his wife and child.” She took a deep breath to stem the rising ache in her heart. “I thought you were referring to yourself and Lady Charlotte. I thought she was carrying y
our child and you now had to marry her.”

  His mouth dropped open.

  Then he shut it and shook his head again. “Poppy, how could you think… no wonder you kept bringing her up.”

  “Is it so farfetched? Why else would you tell me there could never be anything between us? Why else would you invite her to your home when you don’t appear to like her very much? And you came right out and told Penelope you intended to marry Charlotte.”

  “I only said it to rile her because she wouldn’t stop hounding me.” His eyes widened in horror. “But you spoke about Lavinia and a child. You had to know.”

  “I didn’t. I was referring to your child and meant to assure you that Lavinia would love your child because it was part of you.”

  He said nothing for the longest moment. “Bollocks. You thought I’d been careless and spread my seed.”

  “And selected Charlotte as… your fertile vessel? Well, yes.”

  He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Are there any other misunderstandings we ought to clear up?”

  “I hope not.” She cast him a wry smile.

  His expression turned tortured. “Hell and damnation. I’m to blame for letting the secret out. How will I ever make it up to Lavinia?”

  Poppy put a hand to her throat and gasped. “You’ve only told me, and I will take it to my grave. I would never betray your aunt. Nor any of your family. Nathaniel, you know I care deeply for all of you.” She’d almost blurted she loved him, but managed to stop herself in time. He probably knew it anyway since Farthingales were not alluring women of mystery. Indeed, Farthingale women were meddlesome, always spoke their mind, and managed to get into embarrassing scrapes as easily as they drew their next breath. “Stop blaming yourself. We have a blackmailer to catch.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we’re going to solve this mystery together. Everyone believes we’re working through The Book of Love. It’s the perfect cover for our true intention. So, while everyone believes we are learning about love, you and I will really be spending time tracking down the fiend who means to hurt Lavinia.”

  He appeared to accept the idea. However, his brow remained furrowed. “What about your mysterious suitor?”

  She shrugged. “Let’s take his love letter with us. Perhaps we’ll spot a match to his handwriting while we search through the vicarage records. But he isn’t important.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I will never marry that man.”

  He held her back when she gathered the book and started to walk out. “Do you know yet who you wish to marry?”

  Lord, were all men this dense?

  “I need to give it more thought.” She slipped under his arm and waited for him to release his hold on the door. “I’ll grab my shawl before we walk to the vicarage. Won’t be a moment.”

  He took a step back, allowing her to open it. “Promise me it won’t be that bounder.”

  “Andrew Gordon? You needn’t worry. It isn’t.”

  *

  Watching Poppy move was like watching a majestic wave ripple across the water. Smooth. Graceful. Fascinating. She had a magnificent wiggle as she hurried upstairs to put away her book and fetch her shawl.

  He shouldn’t have asked her the question since he already knew the answer.

  She wished to marry him.

  Yes, she wished for a sacred union while he wished to bed her. She was in love. He was in lust.

  It wasn’t at all the same thing.

  Perhaps if she admitted her love for him, he might dig deep and allow himself to follow his heart. But his heart needed to mend first. He shook his head. He was being an arrogant ass. He was a coward. He knew a girl like Poppy would heal his heart.

  Yet, he needed to hear her say it. I love you, Nathaniel.

  He didn’t know why it was so important to have her say those words to him, especially since he wasn’t certain how he would respond.

  He was only supposed to be her test frog.

  He didn’t want to feel anything beyond casual friendship. No hurt. No ache. No heart torn to ribbons.

  He’d grown used to feeling numb. Numbness was easy. He was comfortable with it.

  But Poppy, she turned the heat up inside of him. She made him want things like happiness, children, and hope for the future.

  Hell, if he ever gave his heart free rein, he would love her so deeply and whole-heartedly, it scared the life out of him.

  Breeding heirs with her would also be so delightful as to be sinful.

  He almost groaned aloud, thinking of Poppy and their nights of sex.

  But marriage was comprised of more than a few nights of decadent pleasure to create the necessary offspring. Of course, since his brain immediately shut down at the thought of Poppy in his bed, he couldn’t list what else mattered in a marriage.

  But bedding her was never going to happen outside of wedded bliss.

  Not with Poppy.

  He glanced up as she hurried back downstairs. “Do you have both letters?” she whispered, casting him a conspiratorial glance.

  He leaned close, his lips lightly pressed against her ear and said in a hushed rumble, “I do.”

  He drew back, ignoring the urge to nibble her ear and nuzzle the slender curve of her neck. “Let’s go.” He led her out to the garden, toward the rear gate, and to the road that was the shortcut into Wellesford.

  “Shall we call on Dr. Carmichael first? Or Vicar Carstairs?”

  “Vicarage first,” Nathaniel said, hoping Thad hadn’t been too rough on the vicar when questioning him about Poppy’s love letter. Now they would appear on his doorstep not an hour later demanding more answers. It couldn’t be helped. He and Poppy only had a few days to find out who was behind this blackmail threat.

  That he’d been the one to spill the secret to Poppy still had his stomach twisted in knots. How could he have been so reckless? Fortunately, he’d made the mistake with her and not someone with a malicious heart.

  Poppy was a beautiful girl, but the thing he liked most about her was the genuine goodness of her heart. At times, she was too sweet. But she was still young and uncertain of herself. She had always been shy and reserved.

  Perhaps he’d always felt protective of her because of this.

  Indeed, she was someone special. Any other young lady would have used Lavinia’s secret to her own advantage, perhaps force him into marriage in order to keep the secret quiet. The dastardly thought had never crossed Poppy’s mind.

  She didn’t have a malicious bone in her body.

  Thad was just leaving the vicarage when Nathaniel and Poppy appeared. “What are you two doing here? Making certain I haven’t killed your precious vicar?”

  Nathaniel arched an eyebrow. “Have you?”

  Thad grinned. “He’s still standing. Why are you here?”

  “I wanted to check on some family records,” Poppy replied, sparing Nathaniel the need to fabricate a story.

  “Farthingales?” Thad nodded. “I didn’t know your family had ties to Wellesford.”

  “Farthingales have ties everywhere.” Poppy shook her head and smiled impishly. “We have been likened to a plague of locusts. Although I think it is rather a harsh description. We’re a big, loving family. And we’re close knit despite being spread out across England.”

  Thad glanced at Nathaniel and shrugged. “Enjoy. I’ll be off now. Your sister has enlisted me to help with your party. She won’t have me as her test frog, but is more than willing to use me as her beast of burden.”

  “We have servants to assist her, Thad. You–”

  “I don’t mind. Loopy may be irritating at times, but she’s never dull.” He strode off toward the center of town, hopping the low, stone wall surrounding the vicarage instead of following the graveled path lined with medieval roses that led onto the main road into the village.

  The Wellesford vicarage stood on the outskirts of town. One had to pass it when walking from Sherbourne Manor into Wellesford. But it was situa
ted a little back from the road, a sturdy, stone structure situated atop a small hill so that its steeple could be seen from anywhere in the vicinity.

  The vicar emerged from his office just as they entered the vicarage. “Lord Welles?” he remarked with some surprise, obviously not expecting his visit. The man fairly tripped over his own two feet to rush forward and greet Poppy. “Miss Farthingale, it is a delight to see you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Carstairs. I was hoping you might do me a favor.” It took only a smile and a bat of her eyelashes, long, dark lashes that reminded Nathaniel of those of a fawn, to ensorcel this man of the church.

  “Anything for you, Miss Farthingale.”

  She blushed. “Yes, well… I was hoping to have a look at your old baptismal records.”

  “Certainly. How far back do you wish to search? Our records go back about five hundred years. However, those old records are extremely fragile. I ought to assist you with–”

  “It isn’t necessary,” Nathaniel said, his tone purposely dismissive. “I’m here to help Miss Farthingale. We’ll start with the records over the last fifty years and slowly work our way back.”

  The vicar cast him a wry grin. “Of course, my lord.”

  “And I’d also like to see Walter Fitch’s baptismal record,” Poppy said. “Dr. Carmichael mentioned that he was named after me. It’s silly really. I’m sure he was in jest, but I’d like to see for myself.”

  “I’ll set you up in my library and bring all those ledgers to you. I only need Walter’s ledger back immediately since it is still in current use. But take as much time as you like with the others.”

  Although the vicar promptly brought the ledgers to the library, to Nathaniel’s annoyance, the man took far too long to leave. He found any excuse imaginable to hover close to Poppy. “Thank you, Vicar. We’ll call you when we need you,” he finally said, for the man had no intention of leaving them otherwise.