a mock glare. "I've been looking all over for ye! It is time to take yer nap, pet."
Joy's lower lip protruded. "I don't want to!"
"If you go along with Nurse like a good little girl," Jonathan said, "I shall give you a sweet when you awaken." He set her down, and she walked obligingly to her nurse.
After seeing if any post had come for him—and finding that none had—Jonathan began to mount the stairs to the library. On the stairs a young woman was coming down. He gave her a curt nod, said "Good day," and continued on.
"Mr. Blankenship!"
By God, he recognized that voice! It sounded like Miss Arbuckle, though the woman he had just passed bore no resemblance to her. He stopped dead in his stride and pivoted toward the lady, whose progress had also been halted.
They stood there staring at one another. He was powerless to keep his lazy gaze from moving to the Grecian style of her dark, fetching hair, along her sweet face with its eyes as black as currants, then to her. . . bosom. My God, Miss Arbuckle was possessed of a bosom! And a very womanly bosom at that. For some confounded reason, he could barely catch his breath, and against all his control, this . . . this attractive Miss Arbuckle had a profound effect upon him. Below the waist .
He was not at all pleased. "What the devil's happened to you?"
"Glee has taken it into her mind that I must take more pains with my appearance."
"There was nothing wrong with your appearance before," he snapped, his mouth settling into a grim line.
"But, you must own, I have failed to attract a husband."
Glee came rushing down the stairs. "But now that Miss Arbuckle is having her hair styled to go along with her stunning new dresses, she has any number of suitors." Glee came to hug him. "Good day, dear Jonathan. We are so thrilled you've come for Christmas. Your presence will make it our happiest yet."
He nodded curtly to Glee, then turned back to Miss Arbuckle. "How can you see without your spectacles?"
The lady shrugged. And he noticed her shoulders were exposed. Creamy, silken shoulders. No wonder she had suitors knocking down her door! He did not like this transformation that had come over his old friend. Why could she not be content with life the way it was?
"I mostly need them to read," she answered.
"Speaking of reading, I was on my way to the library to peruse the new edition of the Edinburgh Review . Have you seen it?" He knew the lady's widowed mother was unable to pay for subscriptions to the publications her scholarly daughter enjoyed reading. Miss Arbuckle was the only person he had ever known whose reading interests so closely mirrored his own. He was even closer to her than he was to Melvin Steffington, whose interests channeled into classicism, while he and Miss Arbuckle were keenly interested in political thought.
"No, I haven't had the opportunity," she said.
"Why do you not join me in the library?" He felt awkward asking such a . . . a voluptuous woman to come sit beside him. Oddly, he had a compulsion to peer at the tops of her generous breasts. Why had he never before noticed that Miss Arbuckle was. . . womanly? Damn those suitors!
A knock upon the entry door distracted him, and he turned to see who was there. The butler took a small bouquet, nodded, and said, "I shall see that Miss Arbuckle gets these."
Jonathan glared as Hampton moved toward Miss Arbuckle and presented her with the nosegay.
Her dark brows rose in query. "Are you certain these are for me?"
"Indeed," the butler said.
She took them, then found a piece of folded-up paper pinned to them. After unfolding it, she read the brief note. He tried his demdest to see the signature of the man who sent the flowers, but she quickly refolded the note, tucked it into a pocket, and then shoved her nose in to the white blooms. "Are they not lovely, Mr. Blankenship?"
"Daresay the fellow's got a hot house. How else could blooms like that be procured in December?" If the fellow had a hot house, that
Joy's lower lip protruded. "I don't want to!"
"If you go along with Nurse like a good little girl," Jonathan said, "I shall give you a sweet when you awaken." He set her down, and she walked obligingly to her nurse.
After seeing if any post had come for him—and finding that none had—Jonathan began to mount the stairs to the library. On the stairs a young woman was coming down. He gave her a curt nod, said "Good day," and continued on.
"Mr. Blankenship!"
By God, he recognized that voice! It sounded like Miss Arbuckle, though the woman he had just passed bore no resemblance to her. He stopped dead in his stride and pivoted toward the lady, whose progress had also been halted.
They stood there staring at one another. He was powerless to keep his lazy gaze from moving to the Grecian style of her dark, fetching hair, along her sweet face with its eyes as black as currants, then to her. . . bosom. My God, Miss Arbuckle was possessed of a bosom! And a very womanly bosom at that. For some confounded reason, he could barely catch his breath, and against all his control, this . . . this attractive Miss Arbuckle had a profound effect upon him. Below the waist .
He was not at all pleased. "What the devil's happened to you?"
"Glee has taken it into her mind that I must take more pains with my appearance."
"There was nothing wrong with your appearance before," he snapped, his mouth settling into a grim line.
"But, you must own, I have failed to attract a husband."
Glee came rushing down the stairs. "But now that Miss Arbuckle is having her hair styled to go along with her stunning new dresses, she has any number of suitors." Glee came to hug him. "Good day, dear Jonathan. We are so thrilled you've come for Christmas. Your presence will make it our happiest yet."
He nodded curtly to Glee, then turned back to Miss Arbuckle. "How can you see without your spectacles?"
The lady shrugged. And he noticed her shoulders were exposed. Creamy, silken shoulders. No wonder she had suitors knocking down her door! He did not like this transformation that had come over his old friend. Why could she not be content with life the way it was?
"I mostly need them to read," she answered.
"Speaking of reading, I was on my way to the library to peruse the new edition of the Edinburgh Review . Have you seen it?" He knew the lady's widowed mother was unable to pay for subscriptions to the publications her scholarly daughter enjoyed reading. Miss Arbuckle was the only person he had ever known whose reading interests so closely mirrored his own. He was even closer to her than he was to Melvin Steffington, whose interests channeled into classicism, while he and Miss Arbuckle were keenly interested in political thought.
"No, I haven't had the opportunity," she said.
"Why do you not join me in the library?" He felt awkward asking such a . . . a voluptuous woman to come sit beside him. Oddly, he had a compulsion to peer at the tops of her generous breasts. Why had he never before noticed that Miss Arbuckle was. . . womanly? Damn those suitors!
A knock upon the entry door distracted him, and he turned to see who was there. The butler took a small bouquet, nodded, and said, "I shall see that Miss Arbuckle gets these."
Jonathan glared as Hampton moved toward Miss Arbuckle and presented her with the nosegay.
Her dark brows rose in query. "Are you certain these are for me?"
"Indeed," the butler said.
She took them, then found a piece of folded-up paper pinned to them. After unfolding it, she read the brief note. He tried his demdest to see the signature of the man who sent the flowers, but she quickly refolded the note, tucked it into a pocket, and then shoved her nose in to the white blooms. "Are they not lovely, Mr. Blankenship?"
"Daresay the fellow's got a hot house. How else could blooms like that be procured in December?" If the fellow had a hot house, that
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