“Coo-ee, Julia?” Amelia waved a hand in front her eyes. “What’s wrong with her?”

Catherine lifted a shoulder. “Something to do with the otters I think.”

Amelia shook her head. “Are you still watching the otters?”

Julia frowned. “For as long as I can. That’s as long as Lord Weston does not tear apart their home.”

“Julia is trying to persuade him not to build his mill along the river’s edge,” Emma added.

“I have only met the man once when he came to introduce himself to Nicholas but I imagine he is not an easily persuaded man.”

“Not at all.” Julia pursed her lips. “He is a stubborn mule of a man.”

“Not like anyone we know then.” Catherine snickered.

Julia shot her a look while Amelia held up her palms. Their older sister was still the peacemaker even if she had been married and no longer living with them for several months now.

Her husband Nicholas came to her side and put a hand to Amelia’s back. It was only the smallest of touches and yet Julia could see her sister melt with it. Nicholas and Amelia were still as in love as ever it seemed, and Julia could not be happier for her.

Though, there was a small part of her that wondered what it might be like to have a man love her like that. A ridiculous thought really. No man would ever understand her and her passion for nature. Everyone in London thought her to be a bluestocking of the highest regard and not at all suited to marriage. She had always agreed with them.

Until now.

She could not fathom why she should have changed her mind. Marriage was not for her, it was as simple as that.

“Catherine,” Nicholas said, “you shall be pleased to know there is plenty of cake on offer.”

“Oh goody.” She clapped her hands together. “I confess garden parties bore me but if there’s cake on offer, I’m happy.”

“Catherine,” Amelia scolded.

“Well, it is your garden party so it’s not like I can offend anyone,” Catherine pointed out.

“You might have offended Amelia,” Emma said. “This was a lot of work to put together I should imagine.”

“It was,” Amelia admitted, “but I am no fan of garden parties either, as you well know. I shall look forward to when all the guests are gone and we are alone again.” She smiled. “Excluding my sisters of course.”

“Ha, you cannot wait to get rid of us so you can be alone with your husband.” Catherine winked at Nicholas.

Nicholas chuckled and drew Amelia close. “I cannot speak for Amelia but I always look forward to getting her alone.” His gaze locked onto something behind Amelia’s shoulder. “We have more guests it seems. Will you excuse us?”

Amelia took Julia’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “I shall speak with you later. You can tell me all about the otters and Lord Weston.”

There’s nothing to say, Julia wanted to tell her sister, but Amelia was already off, greeting the newly-arrived guests. It was odd to see her sister playing hostess and, of course, the grand viscountess. However, it suited her. Amelia was so used to organizing and bossing around her sisters, that such a role came naturally to her. So long as she had some time at the end of the day to read and write, she would be content.

Guests were already spread out on the neatly manicured lawns. Box hedges edged the lawns, creating a secluded feel. A couple of children from the local families ran in between the hedges, playing hide and seek and occasionally getting scolded by their mothers or nannies. On the patio, a sumptuous spread had been laid out. Those who had arrived early were already eating on blankets or chairs set out on the lawns.

“I am sooo hungry,” Catherine complained. “Can we eat now?”

“You only ate an hour ago,” Emma reminded her.

“My stomach is grumbling.” Catherine lifted a hand. “Listen?”

They all paused and sure enough her stomach gave a great growl. They all laughed and Julia shook her head. “I do not know how you eat so much and remain so small.”

“I am a growing girl,” Catherine proclaimed loudly, even though she was now nineteen and hardly a child anymore.

Catherine poked Julia in the ribs. “Anyway, you are as scrawny as me.”

Julia rubbed the spot where she’d been poked. “But I do not eat like a pig.”

“Hmph.” Catherine tossed her head in the air. “You two can stand here and starve if you like. I am going to get some food.”

“Oh, there’s Miss Waterson. I was telling her about my skills with cards when I was in the village the other day.” Emma waved at Miss Waterson who was seated on one of the blankets with two other ladies around Emma’s age. “I must show her my latest trick.”

Julia watched her sister skip over to the young ladies and did a scan of the area. There was no sign of him yet. Perhaps he had changed his mind. Oh yes, that would be good. Then she would not have to face him until she had come up with another plan. After all, it was very well keeping the surveyor at bay but it would not last forever. No, what she really needed to do was somehow persuade him against the idea entirely. The problem was, he was the most arrogant, stubborn man she had ever met, and she could not fathom how such a man could be persuaded of anything.

“You look well, Miss Chadwick.”

The voice sent a tremor down her spine. A wave of masculine scent washed over her, sending her head slightly fuzzy. She had to take a breath so big before she could turn and face him that her stays stretched.

“Lord Weston,” she said as coldly as she could muster.

“This excellent weather suits you. Brings out your freckles.”

She eyed him. Was he teasing? Of course he was teasing. Why would he not be? No one liked freckles, not even her. But there was no chance she was hiding indoors for fear of them darkening or her gaining more. A clear complexion was not worth that much effort.

“I imagine you would rather be hunting otters than at a garden party.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. How could he know such a thing? His eyes twinkled with mirth, two sapphire-like jewels that threatened to draw her under his spell. Damn him, the arrogant cad. What was he playing at smiling at her and looking at her like she was the only woman in the world? Was he trying to prevent her from getting in the way of his plans?

Perhaps. Or perhaps he simply enjoyed riling her too much. Either way, she could hardly stand him looking at her like that. A handsome man such as himself was likely used to ladies falling at his feet and doing whatever he bid. Well, she certainly was not one of them.

“I do not hunt otters,” she said, back rigid. “I observe.”

“I see.” He rested his hands behind his back and turned himself fully toward her.

The impact of that one movement was near devastating. She could no longer look at him sideways and ignore quite how beautiful he was. And, yes, beautiful was the perfect way to describe him. She had never seen it in humans before. She had seen pretty in other women and attractive in a few men but never quite beautiful, never enough to match a sunrise or the way a flower turned to the sun.

A wash of heat came over her. His shoulders stretched across her vision and she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. Every part of her fought against this notion. To look into his eyes was to be beckoned to her doom but she could not let him cow her.

“What exactly do you do with your observations?” he asked.

Julia could not think why he continued to wish to engage her but she would play. Oh yes, she would play his games until he surrendered and gave up any idea of harming the otters’ habitat.

“I write them down. I do sketches. Sometimes I send them to the Artist’s Repository. They have published a piece or two of mine.”

Was it her imagination or did a slight grudging admiration enter his gaze. She mentally shook herself. Yes, it was. She was only hoping to see something she had never seen before. Only her sisters really showed pride in what she did, and what did she care if he admired her? He was still a gambling cad.

She was willing to bet he was a terrible rake too. All she had to do was look at him to know that.

“What is your aim in studying them, though? What use is it?”

Lips pursed, she folded her arms across her chest. “They need protecting. As do all animals. Man has stomped along and built what he wants, wherever he wants, chopping down trees and destroying habitat and we are seeing it affect the wildlife. Did you know the badger population has significantly declined?”

“I did not, but I do now.” Lord Weston’s lips quirked. “So you are their advocate? Their one-woman army to save them?”

“I would hardly describe myself as such and I am not alone in wishing to protect nature. But not everyone cares or is willing to speak up. So I must.”

“Only speak up?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

He peered at her closely until the angry heat inside of her began to twist into something else.

“You never take action?” he pressed

Julia shook her head. “I do not know what you mean.”

He grinned. “I think you do, Miss Chadwick. I think you know full well what I mean. Fancy yourself a saboteur, do you?”

“Perhaps the heat has affected you,” she said airily. “It seems you are talking nonsense.”

“You would know nothing about some pigeons and the attack on my surveyor, then?”

“It was not an attack!” she blurted out.

His grin grew triumphant.

“I am not ashamed of what I did.”

“You admit it?”

“I will not back down, you know. Not until you promise not to put a mill there.”

“I cannot do such a thing.”

She took a step closer, and eyed him. “Why? Why can you not change your plans? Why does this matter so much?”

“I need the money.”

“Oh, yes, because you have gambled away your fortune. I have heard all about you, Your Grace.”

“Indeed.” One brow rose. “What else have you heard about me?”

“Enough to know that I was right about you all along.”

“And what, pray tell, were these judgements that proved correct?” He was so close now that she could have sworn she could hear the hammer of his heart. Or perhaps it was her own.

“You are a cad and a rake. You live life only for pleasures and now you have run out of funds, you do not care how you make more to ensure you can continue your life of decadence and irresponsibility.”

“I see. And I suppose you discovered all of this by studying me.” His grin turned wicked. “Exactly how closely did you study me?”

“I—” Any words of rebuttal jammed in her throat. She coughed and waved in Emma’s direction. “Oh, looks like my sister needs me. Enjoy the garden party, Lord Weston. Perhaps it will give you some time to consider the importance of nature. After all, if it did not exist we could not use it at our leisure as we are today.”

She swept away from him, not waiting for a response. The sooner she was away from him, the better. How had he discovered she was behind the pigeon attack?

Julia seated herself next to Emma on a blanket while Emma finished demonstrating her latest card trick. Julia grimaced when she caught Miss Waterson’s confused look. She should have gone to find Amelia instead. Emma’s tricks were getting no better with practice.

“Was it this card?” Emma asked, revealing one.

Miss Waterson shook her head.

“This one?” Emma showed another.

“No,” Miss Waterson gave Julia a beseeching look.

“Very well, it must be this one.”

Miss Waterson’s fair curls bounced around her head as she shook it. “I’m afraid not.”

“Drat. Are you certain?” Emma looked at the cards.

“Quite certain,” her friend replied.

Julia put a hand on Emma’s. “Perhaps you are too hungry to concentrate. Why do we not join Catherine and get some food?”

Emma nodded. “Yes, that must be it. I cannot concentrate at the thought of all that food on offer. Can you believe Amelia did all this?” Her sister motioned around.

“I can.”

Emma nodded. “Yes, so can I really, but it’s strange to see her playing the viscountess instead of playing our older sister.”

Julia stood and offered Emma a hand up. They headed over to the buffet where Catherine had remained, still deciding what to load her plate up with.

“I saw you talking to Lord Weston,” Catherine declared, snatching up a meringue.

Julia took a lemonade offered to her by one of the footmen. The food appeared sumptuous but she could not find her hunger yet. It seemed Lord Weston had taken it with him.

“I am not sure it’s considered talking.” Julia took a sip of her lemonade.

“Battling wits then.” The three of them turned their backs on the food to eye the people milling about the gardens. “He is handsome. I mean, really handsome.”

Emma nodded. “The most handsome man I have ever seen. I am no expert on men, but that jawline...it was like he was crafted by a sculptor.”

“And he knows it well,” Julia grumbled.

Catherine stuffed the meringue in her mouth and spoke around it. “Does it matter? Lavinia is the beauty in our family and she always knew it but she was never arrogant about it.”

“Yes, it matters, because he is arrogant with it.” Their sister who was married and living in Scotland had been fair and curvaceous. It was well known that she was the beauty, unlike the rest of them, but Lavinia had never acted like Lord Weston did.

“I think if he was not trying to harm your otters, you would find him a lot more appealing.” Catherine thrust a finger at her.

“I agree,” Emma said.

Julia shook her head. “He would still be arrogant. And do not forget he is a terrible gambler. We can only imagine what other terrible deeds he gets up to in Town.” She shook her head again. “No, there is nothing at all appealing about Lord Weston.”