Page 17

Mustn’t they?

Heads together, a hint of perfectly formed ringlets framing equally porcelain complexions, dainty upturned noses, and cupid’s bow mouths, the quartet giggled again, drawing Joy back to the present.

They stared at Brandon with hungry, inviting gazes.

Gazes perhaps not entirely as innocent as they ought to have been.

He, on the other hand, appeared oblivious to their blatant posing and seductive wiles. Not once did he glance in their direction.

“Shall we head for home, then? While we were gone, I arranged to have mulled cider prepared and roasted chestnuts and a yule log delivered.”

Oh, the precious, wonderful man.

He looked at Joy while he spoke, his mesmerizing chocolatey brown gaze holding hers captive.

If Joy hadn’t already given him her heart, she would’ve done so at that moment.

Wholly and irrevocably.

In passing, during one of their walks, she mentioned she hadn’t enjoyed mulled cider or roasted chestnuts for many years. Not since leaving Haven House and Academy for the Enrichment of Young Women, truth to tell. It was that day a street vendor had been selling chestnuts near The Vines.

And Brandon had remembered her offhand comment.

“That sounds lovely.” She should look away before her employer noticed their locked gazes. Before those uppity twits lusting after Brandon also took note.

But dash her for a fool, she couldn’t.

“Miss Winterborne. What say you?” Thwack went Mrs. Thackpenny’s cane upon the pavement, breaking the romantic spell.

Joy blinked, and drawing a steadying breath, gathered her composure. “I beg your pardon?”

The widow cackled wickedly and shoved her spectacles up her nose. “Will that bothersome foursome, who haven’t a brain betwixt them all, gamble with the elements and linger to gawp at our dear doctor a jot longer?”

Our doctor?

Joy’s attention shot to Brandon’s, her gaze crashing into his once more.

His smoldering eyes—good Lord, she might very well incinerate on the spot—bored into hers—a question sparking in his. Carnal awareness swept her, and a sensual jolt raised every pore from her scalp to the soles of her feet.

She recognized what his gaze silently asked, and it astounded her that she did, for Joy was not a worldly woman.

He wanted to know.

Was he her doctor?

She very much wanted him to be, and not for treatment of any malady either.

Except, perhaps, to run those large hands over her as he explained the cause of her palpating heart, the heat tunneling through her veins, her knees gone to jelly, and the sweet heaviness low in her belly.

Warmth suffused her cheeks at her wanton thoughts. Thoughts, which she was positive no good Christian woman ought to have and which she was equally positive Brandon knew very well tripped about her mind.

Lady Persephone Poppington abruptly jerked her lead as she attempted to charge after a red squirrel, saving Joy the humiliation of anyone discovering her heart’s secret. She swiftly bent and lifted the wriggling, yipping dachshund into her arms.

“Hush. You are ever so much larger than that poor little thing.” The squirrel tore up the nearest tree, where it quivered in fright, flicking its tail. “See, you’ve scared it, Poppet.”

Joy sent Brandon a glance, only to find him watching her with such intensity, he might as well have reached out and touched her.

Yes, he knew her wicked, wicked thoughts.