Lord Nathaniel Grayson, the Earl of Shively, tapped his walking stick impatiently upon the floor of the carriage. He pulled a gold pocket watch from his waistcoat, checked the time and returned the piece to its rightful place. With no appointment there was nothing for which he was late, yet he still was impatient to arrive at his destination — Talcott House, home of Miss Katrina Wickersham.

He had only learned of Miss Wickersham's existence in the previous forty-eight hours. In the midst of preparations for the London season which was about to commence, he had been distracted by correspondence from his father’s solicitor. The solicitor revealed some information to him about his late father's estate which shocked Nathaniel and it had caused him great consternation.

Lord Grayson did not care for surprises. He meant to find out what sort of charlatan this Miss Wickersham was and to make clear to her, face to face, that her days of easy money had come to an end. His father had been a soft touch for any sort of hard luck story, whether based in fact or purely fiction. It had frustrated Grayson to no end to see his father’s fine character abused in such a way. Since ascending to the earldom upon his father’s demise, Grayson had divested the estate of several costly sponsorships. He had believed all of his father’s follies had been cut off, so when he learned of one Miss Katrina Wickersham and the handsome sum which she had received on a regular basis over the last ten years, he had rearranged his travel plans to include an unannounced stop at Talcott House, home of the aforementioned Miss Wickersham.

Finally the carriage turned up the long drive to Talcott House. The buildings of the estate were all well-kept and the grounds included an assortment of gardens filled with colorful blossoms in many different shapes and sizes. Although he had no specific expectations about the appearance of the estate to which he traveled, he had to admit that he was taken aback by the attractiveness of what he observed.

When the carriage stopped he alighted quickly and glanced around taking in the ambiance of the estate. It was strangely relaxing, as well as intriguing to him. As he headed toward the front door intending to use his walking stick to rap upon it to announce his arrival, laughter coming from the side yard caught his attention. It sounded as though quite a collection of young ladies were gathered there based upon the volume and variety of voices he heard. Curious, he took a most uncharacteristic action and diverted himself from his planned route and moved around the building to peek into the garden.

He gasped when he took in the scene before him. At least a dozen young ladies, all quite well-groomed, were gathered together in a diversity of activities. While there was nothing wrong with young ladies engaged in outdoor entertainments, he encouraged fresh air and sunshine for all, he could not help but notice that although these young ladies were clearly of a marriageable age, their dress and demeanor depicted persons who were much younger.

Two girls enjoyed swings hung from a large tree while two others pushed them from behind. Rather than having their hair piled atop their heads, as was the style for proper young ladies, he noticed all of the young women had their hair in braids or pigtails. The two girls on the swings both sported braids which flew out behind them as they moved higher and higher into the air.

Another gathering of young ladies played hopscotch. It was from that group where the majority of the laughter arose. In the middle of the players his eyes were drawn to one young lady in particular. She was without a doubt the most beautiful creature he ever beheld. She was diminutive in stature but clearly a mature young lady based upon the way she filled out the dress, and its accompanying pinafore, which she wore. She smiled and laughed and it was the most magical sound he had ever heard, but what was most magnificent about this young lady was her hair.

Golden curls framed her face and trailed down her back, held in place by a crisp white ribbon. The ringlets surrounding her face gave her an ethereal look. She was like a walking, talking china doll. She bent down to retrieve her hat which had apparently just fallen off, and he couldn’t help but gawk at her shapely figure. He could easily imagine grasping her hips, pulling her flush against his body, and holding her in place while he leaned down to kiss her.

He stood staring, completely unaware of the passage of time or his surroundings, his focus solely on the blonde haired beauty. She donned the hat and skipped away from the larger gathering of girls with two of her friends, their heads bent together in intense conversation, as if they were sharing the most scandalous of secrets. Or so he imagined.

“You there,” a strident voice called him and hurried footsteps caught his attention and drew him from his distracted thoughts. Straightening, he turned in the direction of the voice. A woman, not significantly older than those gathered in the garden, approached him at a brisk pace. Her body was lean and trim, her hair piled appropriately upon her head and tied in a knot at the nape of her neck. No loose curls bounced around her face.

“Sir,” she said, “may I inquire as to the nature of your business here?” Although her words were polite, her demeanor and the firm set of her jaw indicated that she had no interest in friendly chit-chat. Chastened at being caught out, Lord Grayson turned and gave a slight bow.

“Good afternoon,” he said, “I am Lord Grayson. I have come in search of Miss Katrina Wickersham. Might you be her?”

Her sharp eyes appraised him from head to toe. He noticed a twinge of recognition when he told her his name, though she quickly smoothed her features so as not to betray any of her inner thoughts. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am,” she said. “What is the nature of your business here, Lord Grayson? I do not believe we have an appointment.”

“No, we do not. I apologize for dropping in unannounced. I am en route to London and having only learned of the existence of Talcott House yesterday, I decided to make an unscheduled visit. I hope I am not intruding.”

“If you did not wish to intrude, you would have written to announce your intention to visit.”

Having no ready response to her accurate and unflinching assessment of him and his motives, Grayson dispensed with social pleasantries as well. “I assume you are… or were… acquainted with my late father, Lord Henry Grayson. He passed away some eight months ago.”

Though her posture indicated more than a small amount of pique at his intrusion into her domain, he noted that her features softened at the mention of his father.

“Yes,” she said, a note of sadness in her voice, “your father was a fine and generous man. I was quite saddened by his passing and wish to offer you my sincerest condolences.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I have some matters which I should like to discuss with you.”

“Then perhaps you ought to have made an appointment with me. Do you think so little of the time of others that you believe you can simply roll up the driveway and an entire household will come to a halt to accommodate your whim?”

Miss Katrina Wickersham was clearly a formidable woman who was unimpressed with him. It was no wonder his father had taken a special interest in her, though he still did not understand exactly what that interest was.

“It was rude of me to presume. I apologize,” he said, surprised to realize he meant it. “My solicitor has lately informed me that my father had allocated a monthly stipend to you.”

“And you assumed I was some long lost love of your father’s for whom he felt obligated?” She held his gaze and he was the first to look away, thereby giving her the answer to her question.

“I suppose,” she continued, “that you further believe I have birthed all of the young ladies in the garden, as well.”

Perhaps she meant to be ridiculous to prove a point. If so, she succeeded. “Again, I find myself obligated to offer you an apology, Miss Wickersham. I made assumptions which were unfair and clearly unfounded.”

“Clearly.” She crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side.

If he had hoped she would explain his father’s beneficence without further prodding, he was mistaken. With a sigh, he broached the subject himself. “As you are no doubt aware, with my father’s passing, I am charged with managing the finances of an earldom which supports many people. Without an understanding of my father’s interest in your establishment here, I may be forced to discontinue the estate’s support.”

“Are you asking, in a decidedly and annoyingly roundabout manner, for me to explain to you something which your father chose not to disclose to you?”

He had gotten off on the wrong foot with Miss Wickersham and despite his multiple apologies, the situation had not improved. By rights he could simply return to his carriage, continue his journey and instruct the solicitor to discontinue the payments to Talcott House, which had been his inclination from the beginning. However, his curiosity had been piqued by the collection of youthfully dressed young women, in particular the golden haired lass. Where had they come from and why were they at Talcott House? What was Miss Wickersham’s purpose?

“Miss Wickersham,” he said with a bow, “I beg your forgiveness. I arrived with my mind set upon believing certain things and I must admit I am quite taken aback by what I have found here in my few short minutes at Talcott House. Would you please be so kind as to enlighten me as to your purpose here?”

For several long moments, Miss Wickersham studied him and he found himself very much hoping to meet her approval, a feeling which he had not experienced in an exceptionally long time. He had been raised fully mindful of his place in life, which had included little need for acceptance by others. Quite the contrary, it had been he who bestowed approval, not the other way around.

Much to his relief, his hostess’s shoulders relaxed slightly and she inclined her head in acknowledgment of his apology. “All of the young ladies who live here at Talcott House have been rescued from the most dire of circumstances. Orphaned, abandoned, and usually living upon the streets, they were vulnerable to the whims and cruelties of others. They have been deprived of the carefree childhood which I believe is every person’s right.

While many operate under the belief that blood and lineage are determinative of one’s place in society, I disagree. My young ladies have been educated and trained in all the same ways as the daughters of the finest families in England.”

Ah, now he understood his father’s involvement. The former Earl of Shively had been a firm believer in nurture over nature. His son, however, had not been convinced, having been strongly influenced by a particular incident in which his late mother was robbed and pushed down in the mud by a street urchin in London in broad daylight, many years ago—and the pair had spent many an hour debating the issue. Grayson could not fathom a circumstance in which the criminal who robbed his own dear mother could be educated and integrated into polite society, and it had galled him to no end that his father had practically shrugged the incident off, much to he and his mother’s dismay. “I see,” Grayson said. “My father had strong beliefs that with the proper environment and education, class lines could be virtually erased. As you might well imagine, this was not a belief shared by his peers.”

“And what of his son?” Miss Wickersham asked.

“I shall admit, when I observed the young ladies in the garden, they gave every appearance of being from fine families. Though, of course, it was a brief observation. I am curious, however, at their youthful appearance and behavior. Are they stunted in some way as a result of their lineage?”

Bloody hell. He had done it again. Just when Miss Wickersham had softened her attitude toward him, he caused offense. Her jaw tightened and he feared she might order him from the premises, but she did not. “As I stated before, the young ladies of Talcott House have all been deprived of a happy and carefree childhood which is the result of being loved and cared for in a safe and nurturing environment. Here, they are encouraged, in fact required, to embrace the youthful activities which were denied them.”

“Do they never leave here?”

“Of course they do. They are not prisoners. Each girl is raised with the knowledge that when she is of a suitable age, I shall select a husband for her who will cherish and care for her in the same way she has been here. A papa, if you will, who wants nothing more than to lavish affection and adoration upon his little bride. It is not, as you might surmise, a typical marriage, but for the right gentleman and young lady, it can lead to many years of happiness.”

“A papa who is also a husband?” His head spun in confusion and several indelicate questions, which would not be proper to ask, popped into his head.

“If you are wondering about whether these are marriages in the truest sense of the word, let me assure you, Lord Grayson, they are. In fact, I like to believe that the brides of Talcott House are as well prepared, if not more so, for the duties of marriage as their counterparts who have been raised since birth to wed England’s most eligible bachelors.”

An image of the golden haired beauty, her eyes darkened with passion, flitted through his mind and an accompanying pulse of lust stirred his cock.

“Perhaps my point would be better illustrated if you were given a tour of Talcott House and its grounds to see all we have to offer our little charges.” Miss Wickersham strode to the edge of the garden and to his delight, motioned for him to follow. “I suppose I can accommodate you, Lord Grayson, despite the fact that you have shown up unannounced.”

“That would be most kind of you, Miss Wickersham,” he replied, anxious for a chance to get closer to the flaxen haired girl. But he also wished for a closer look at the charitable cause his father had supported for years and years, as now that he’d learned the true nature of Talcott House, he supposed it would be dastardly of him to discontinue the monthly stipend. While he shared differing views from his father, he was not entirely heartless.

Grayson followed Miss Wickersham, his gaze constantly scanning for the pretty golden haired young lady. He hoped the opportunity to speak with the little angel arose, because he very much wanted to hear her voice and learn her name. His pulse spiked at the prospect, but he schooled his features, keeping them impassive so as to not give Miss Wickersham any indication of his lascivious musings.

He was a gentleman, after all.