Page 5 of Tempting the Bluestocking
“Quite diverting, and far preferable to spending all day trapped indoors. What have you been up to today?”
“Why, preparing to surprise you for your birthday, of course.”
Clare paused, the stone falling from her fingers and into the box with a ‘thunk’. At last, she peered up at Helene, who gave her a smug smile, her bright blue eyes twinkling with mirth. Even as she approached her sixtieth year, her aunt proved to be a stunning woman. Smile lines around her eyes and a few wrinkles only added character to a remarkable face. To the everlasting despair of every eligible man of a certain age in London, Helene was adamant that she would never marry again after being widowed. Clare had always doted upon her aunt, seeing her as a model of the sort of woman she wanted to be. Independent, intelligent, and unconcerned with the thoughts and opinions of others.
“My birthday?” she murmured, furrowing her brow. “My …”
Helene pilfered a biscuit from Clare’s tray and took a dainty bite. “It is April 25th, my dear. The day of your birth, you might recall.”
Clare’s frown deepened as she sat up straighter in her chair. “No, that cannot be right. It can’t be so late in the month already.”
“Of course it is,” Helene insisted. “You’ve lost track of time again, busy as you have been with your plants and your rocks and such.”
“Minerals,” she corrected. “Or, specimens as Gillian calls them.”
“Oh, you’ve heard from Gilly. I do love that dear girl. How is she?”
Clare lifted her letter from the desk and waved it through the air. “Enjoying Cornwall and already plotting her next destination. But, back to the matter at hand. Are youcertainit is my birthday? Perhaps you are the one who has the date wrong.”
Helene rolled her eyes and took another bite of her biscuit. “Today’s copy of thePostbegs to differ. It is your birthday, my dear, and I’ve planned something especially wonderful for you this year.”
Raising her eyebrows, Clare found herself intrigued. “More wonderful than that hot air balloon ride last year? I was so grateful you convinced Mr. Kent to allow us to come along for his ascent. A most bracing experience!”
“Even better than that,” Helene declared. “It is not every day a girl turns one-and-twenty after all.”
Clare shrugged. “One would think receiving my inheritance would be gift enough.”
“That gift is from your parents, God rest them,” Helene replied, her expression growing wistful for a moment before she smiled. “This is something special, from me.”
Every birthday saw her on the receiving end of an extravagant gift from Helene, her aunt’s way of making the occasion special for her. It had been this way since she and her sister, Alice, had come to live with Helene after the deaths of both their parents. Having never borne children of her own, Helene had leaped in with both feet to raise two young girls alone. It was Clare’s opinion that she’d done an admirable job of it, even if Alice had departed from them to marry a baron years ago without a look back. Her elder sister proved as different from Helene and Clare as a bird was from a fish. While Alice seemed to have been made for the shallow social world of theton, Helene and Clare were content to live on the periphery while making their own rules. They had no care for propriety or social norms, while Alice lived her life by them to a rigid degree.
This was why Clare could never have gone off to Cornwall to leave Helene alone in London. Her aunt had a busy social life as well as her own circle of friends to spend her time with. However, though she tried to hide it, Clare could see it hurt her aunt that Alice seemed to want nothing to do with either of them. She enjoyed her younger niece’s presence in her home, and Clare liked the freedom as well as the companionship of remaining in the same home with one of the few people in the world who understood her. Besides, if she left, who would make such a grand affair of her birthday each year, even when she forgot about it herself?
Setting her magnifying glass aside, Clare rose and smoothed her skirts. “Well then, where is this gift? I find I am most anxious to know what it is, even though I did not realize it was my birthday until a few seconds ago.”
A wide, catlike grin spread across her aunt’s face, and the woman stood from her perch on the corner of the desk. Motioning toward the connecting door to Clare’s bedchamber, her eyes glittered with excitement and mischief.
“I’ve stashed it in your bedroom, dear. I do hope you enjoy it.”
Without waiting for further explanation—and knowing her aunt had a flare for the dramatic—Clare went to the door. Throwing it open, she noticed that a fire and several tapers had been lit within. Stepping farther into the chamber she found that nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She’d half expected to discover that her aunt had wedged an entire circus inside her room, complete with acrobats, jugglers, and elephants. One might argue that the elephants would never fit, but her aunt was nothing if not resourceful. Baby elephants, perhaps.
However, she saw nothing other than the usual order maintained by her lady’s maid. Helene hadn’t redecorated, as there had been no change to the chinoiserie wallpaper, heavy oak furniture, or silk seafoam green curtains.
Glancing over her shoulder at the closed door, she wondered if she ought to go ask Helene if she had hidden the gift. Perhaps Clare was meant to hunt for it.
But then, the rustle of fabric caught her attention and had her whirling to face the bed. Her mouth fell open as amongst the tousled mess of her unmade bedclothes, she found the very last thing she would have expected.
A man who appeared to be stark naked.
Good heavens, there’s a nude man in my bed!Her stomach performed a somersault as she noticed that he was quite an intriguing specimen of manhood—light brown hair falling in an artful tumble about his head, refined, angular features, and an upper body that suggested strength and agility. She’d seen a man unclothed before, but had not found him as pleasant to look upon as this one, with sinewy lines and bulges of muscles stretching along his chest and arms.
As he sat up in bed and met her gaze, a slow, sensual smile transformed his face into something sinful. Itmustbe a sin for someone to look so delectably carnal—all full lips, mussed hair, and smooth, bare skin. Staring at him without blinking, she noticed that his eyes were a lovely shade of deep jade, akin to the chunk of quartz in the next room.
Her mouth went dry when those perfect lips of his parted to form words, emitting a deep, pleasing baritone.
“Hello, Clare.”
Chapter 2
