o Hannah's astonishment, Natalie was not only not shocked by her account of the visit with Rafe Bowman, she was highly entertained. By the time Hannah had finished the account of the kiss beneath the stairs, Natalie had collapsed on the bed in a fit of giggles.

"Natalie," Hannah said, frowning, "clearly I haven't managed to convey how dreadful that man was. Is. He's a barbarian. A brute. A clod."

"Apparently so." Still chortling, Natalie sat up. "I look forward to meeting him."

"What?"

"He's quite manipulative, our Mr. Bowman. He knew you would tell me what he had done, and that I would be intrigued. And when I see him in Hampshire, he'll act the perfect gentleman in the hopes of setting me off balance."

"You shouldn't be intrigued, you should be appalled!"

Natalie smiled and patted her hand. "Oh, Hannah, you don't know how to manage men. You mustn't take everything so seriously."

"But courtship is a serious matter," Hannah protested. It was at moments like this that she understood the differences between herself and her younger cousin. Natalie seemed to have a more thorough understanding of social maneuvering, of the process of pursuit and capture, than Hannah ever would.

"Oh, heavens, the moment a girl approaches courtship as a serious matter is the moment she's lost the game. We must guard our hearts and hide our feelings carefully, Hannah. It's the only way to win."

"I thought courtship was a process of revealing one's heart," Hannah said. "Not winning a game."

Natalie smiled. "I don't know where you get such ideas. If you want to bring a man up to scratch, never reveal your heart to him. At least not early on. Men only value something when they have to put some effort into getting it." She tapped her forefinger on her chin. "Hmmn... I shall have to come up with a good counterstrategy."

Climbing off the bed, Hannah went to retrieve some gloves and stockings and other items that had been dropped carelessly to the floor. She had never minded tidying up after Natalie. Hannah had met other lady's companions whose charges had made their lives a misery, treating them with contempt and subjecting them to all kinds of small cruelties. Natalie, on the other hand, was kind and affectionate, and although she could be a trifle self-absorbed on occasion, it was nothing that time and maturity wouldn't cure.

Placing the personal articles in a dresser drawer, Hannah turned to face Natalie, who was still ruminating.

Natalie was a pretty sight, tumbled on the white ruffled bed, her hair falling in golden curls. Her blue-eyed sunny appeal had stolen many a gentleman's heart during her first season. And her delicately regretful rejections of her suitors had done nothing to dampen their ardor. Long after the season had ended, towering arrangements of flowers were delivered to the Blandford mansion, and calling cards piled up on the silver tray in the entrance hall.

Absently Natalie wound a lock of shimmering hair around her finger. "Mr. Bowman is betting on the fact that since I went through an entire season without settling on someone, I must have tired of all these bland, respectable lords of leisure. And since it's been months since the season ended, he also assumes that I am bored and eager for a challenge." She gave an abbreviated laugh. "He is correct on all counts."

"The proper way for him to get your attention is not to ravish your companion," Hannah muttered.

"You weren't ravished, you were kissed." Natalie's eyes twinkled mischievously as she asked, "Now confess, Hannah—does he kiss nicely?"

Remembering the warm erotic sensation of Bowman's mouth, Hannah felt the damnable color sweep over her again. "I don't know," she said shortly. "I have no basis for comparison."

Natalie's eyes widened. "You mean you've never been kissed before?"

Hannah shook her head.

"But surely Mr. Clark—"

"No." Hannah raised her fingers to her hot cheeks. "He must have tried," Natalie insisted. "You've spent so much time in his company."

"I've been working for him," Hannah protested. "Helping with his manuscript and papers."

"You mean you've actually been taking dictation from him?"

Hannah gave her a bewildered glance. "What else would I have been doing?"

"I always assumed when you said you'd been 'taking dictation' from him that you were letting him kiss you."

Hannah's mouth fell open. "When I said I'd been 'taking dictation,' I meant that I had been taking dictation!"

Natalie was clearly disappointed. "My goodness. If you have spent that much time with him, and he has never once kissed you, I'd say that is proof of the fact that his passion for his work will eclipse all else. Even a wife. We must find someone else for you."

"I wouldn't mind taking second place to Mr. Clark's work," Hannah said earnestly. "He will be a great man someday. He will do so much good for others—"

"Great men don't necessarily make good husbands. And you're too dear and lovely to be wasted on him." Natalie shook her head in disgust. "Why, any of my leftovers from last season would be better for you than silly old Mr. Clark."

A troubling thought occurred to Hannah, but she was almost afraid to voice her suspicion. "Natalie, did you ever let one of your suitors kiss you?"

"No," Natalie said reassuringly.

Hannah let out a sigh of relief.

"I let nearly all of them kiss me," Natalie continued cheerfully. "On separate occasions, of course."

Aghast, Hannah leaned hard against the dresser. "But... but I was watching over you..."

"You're a terrible chaperone, Hannah. You often become so absorbed in conversation that you forget to keep an eye on me. It's one of the reasons I adore you so."

Hannah had never dreamed that her pretty, high-spirited cousin would have let any young man presume so far. Much less several. "You know you should never allow such liberties," she said weakly. "It will cause rumors, and you might be labeled as fast, and then..."

"No one will enter an engagement with me?" Natalie smiled wryly. "Last season I received four proposals of marriage, and had I cared to encourage any more, I could have gotten another half dozen. Believe me, Hannah, I know how to manage men. Bring my hairbrush, please."

Obeying, Hannah had to acknowledge that there was good reason for Natalie to be so self-assured. She was, or would be, the ideal bride for any man. She gave the silver-backed brush to Natalie and watched her draw it through a flurry of rich blond curls. "Natalie, why didn't you accept any of those offers last season?"

"I'm waiting for someone special," came the thoughtful reply. "I should hate to settle for anyone ordinary." Natalie smiled as she added flippantly, "When I kiss a man, I want to hear the angels sing."

"What about Lord Travers?" Of all the gentlemen who had shown an interest in Natalie, the one Hannah had the highest regard for was Edward, Lord Travers. He was a sober, quiet gentleman, careful in appearance and bearing. Although his countenance did not lend itself to outright handsomeness, his features were strong and regular. He did not seem dazzled by Natalie, and yet he paid a close and respectful attention to her whenever she was present. And he was rich and titled, which, along with his other qualities, made him an excellent catch.

The mention of Travers drew a frown from Natalie. "He is the only man of my acquaintance who will not make an advance to me, even when handed a perfectly good opportunity. I chalk it up to his age."

Hannah couldn't help laughing. "His age?"

"He is on the wrong side of thirty, after all."

"He is mature," Hannah allowed. "But he is also confident, intelligent, and from all appearances, in full vigor."

"Then why hasn't he kissed me?"

"Because he respects you?" Hannah suggested.

"I would rather be regarded with passion than respect."

"Well, then," Hannah said wryly, "I would say that Mr. Bowman is your man."

The mention of Bowman restored Natalie's good spirits. "Possibly so. Now, Hannah, tell Mama and Papa that Mr. Bowman was exquisitely well behaved. No, they won't believe that, he's American. Tell them he was quite presentable. And not one mention of the kiss under the stairs."