The Determined Virgin. Elizabeth August

thought as the car came to a halt and the driver climbed out. A classy tiger, he amended, noting the gray pin-striped suit with the fitted tailored jacket, pink silk blouse and wide-legged pants. The woman had a nice figure, curves in all the right places. She was medium build, not too skinny. He’d never cared much for skinny women. Practical, black, two-inch-heeled shoes matched her shoulder bag. He judged her height in bare feet to be about five feet seven inches.

      The late-afternoon sun brought out the red highlights of her auburn hair. It was long, hanging in soft waves to below her shoulders. Redheads were generally trouble, he recalled. His gaze shifted to her face. Green eyes. Red hair and green eyes were definitely warning signals. And freckles. Carefully applied makeup hid them, but he was certain they were there. Her lips were sensuously full and her nose fitted the rest of her features. If she wasn’t wearing such a hostile expression, she’d be pretty, he decided, not gorgeous but pretty. As it was, he saw her only as dangerous. His body tensed for action.

      As Hesper O’Grady approached the short flight of marble steps leading to the door of the three-story brick colonial-style home, her gaze traveled over the man standing on the landing above watching her. She judged his age to be somewhere in his mid-thirties. Under other circumstances, he might have intimidated her. Six feet, maybe an inch or two more, tall, he was dressed in a well-cut dark blue suit. The jacket was unbuttoned revealing a flat abdomen. And she was certain the broadness of his shoulders was not due to padding. There was a firmness in his stance that left no doubt in her mind that should Tobias need protection, this man could provide it. His hair was black and cut in a conservative style. His eyes were dark and his chiseled jaw was set in a grim line. There was no welcome on his face, only an expression of cold formality. Well, she’d asked for that. She hadn’t been in the best mood when she’d arrived. She still wasn’t.

      A gust of wind blew the jacket of the suit more fully open and she caught a glimpse of leather. He was wearing a shoulder holster! Well, Tobias did run a detective agency, she reminded herself. And that was about all she knew about her granduncle. He had gone his own way, to her knowledge, having little or nothing to do with the family. In fact, she’d been surprised when Eloise had suggested she seek him out.

      “Mr. Smith is waiting in his study.” Garth opened the door, then stepped aside to allow her to enter ahead of him.

      Pausing inside the foyer, she glanced around. “Which way?”

      A woman who looked to be in her fifties seemed suddenly to appear from nowhere. Wearing a plainly cut brown plaid, midcalf length, short-sleeve dress and low-heeled functional shoes, she was tall and lean and carried herself with authority.

      “I’ll show Miss O’Grady to the study, Mrs. Gibbons,” Garth said with dismissal.

      “As you wish,” the woman replied already on her way back to wherever she’d come from.

      Clearly the dark-haired man didn’t trust her, Hesper mused. When he’d insisted on remaining her escort, she’d caught the look that passed between him and the woman…a look that said he wanted to keep an eye on their visitor until he was certain Tobias was safe. Again she couldn’t fault him. She was feeling hostile and too tired to hide it.

      “It’s the last door on the left.” Garth’s gaze never leaving her, he motioned for her to precede him down the wide central hall that ran from the front to the rear of the house. When she’d passed him on the porch, he’d made a visual search for weapons. He hadn’t seen any, but she could have one in her purse or, with those loose pants, one could be strapped to one of her legs.

      As Hesper reached the door to which she’d been directed, Garth stepped forward, knocked to announce their arrival, then opened it and again stepped aside to allow her to enter ahead of him.

      Inside she saw an older man she knew to be in his early seventies. He didn’t look his age, though. The wrinkles were there along with a bit of sagging of the jowls, but the relaxed, friendly expression on his face and the gleam of interest in his eyes gave him an air of spryness. He was on the stout side, causing the vest of his expensively tailored, three-piece suit to fit snugly but not unfashionably so. The silver handled cane on which he leaned added an extra touch of elegance to his appearance. He was clean shaven and his thick white hair was cut in a conservative style. Distinguished was the word that came to mind.

      Tobias smiled and made a shooing motion toward Garth. “I’ll speak to my grandniece alone.”

      A relative, Garth mused. He should have guessed. She had Tobias’s commanding air.

      Hesper saw her grim escort’s eyebrow raise slightly as he left, then he was forgotten and she turned her full attention to Tobias. “I appreciate you seeing me. I wasn’t sure if you’d even remember me.”

      “Of course, I remember you. But it has been a long time. Fourteen years, perhaps. It was at your mother’s funeral, I believe.” He motioned toward a chair in an unspoken invitation to sit. “You look like her, rest her soul.”

      Too tense to relax enough to be seated, Hesper remained standing. For all practical purposes this man was a stranger. The few times in her youth when they’d met had been brief encounters. But she was desperate. “I realize my coming here is an imposition, but I didn’t know where else to turn. Aunt Eloise said you might be able to help me.”

      Tobias again motioned toward the chair. “And how is Eloise?”

      Hesper continued to remain standing. “She has finally found peace.”

      A plea entered Tobias’s eyes. “I was taught it was impolite for a gentleman to sit while a lady remained standing. I beg of you, take pity on an old man.”

      Feeling as if she’d stepped back in time at least three generations, Hesper recalled that her Aunt Eloise had said his manners were impeccable. “Please, don’t remain standing on my account. I drove straight through from New York. I really need to stretch my legs for a while.”

      For a moment Tobias studied her thoughtfully, then eased himself into a leather wing chair. “I assume your problem is urgent.”

      Her gaze locked on him. “Aunt Eloise said you knew of the…the affliction that torments the women of my lineage.”

      He looked surprised by her choice of words. “It is not supposed to be considered an affliction. In generations past, it was a boon.”

      The frown on her face deepened. “It was much easier for my ancestors to choose the right mate. Their choices were limited and, although I’m not certain I believe it, it is said they had the ability to sense who was the right match. If so, that ability has obviously vanished with time.”

      “Perhaps the women of our family have simply stopped listening to their inner voices.”

      Hesper had begun pacing. Now she stopped and faced him. “I did not come here for a philosophical discussion. I came seeking help.”

      He smiled a fatherly smile. “I’m a man who likes to help others when I can.”

      For a moment embarrassment caused her to hesitate. There was no turning back, she reminded herself. Either she sought his help or admitted defeat before she’d even begun the battle. “I turn thirty soon.” Her legs suddenly tired, she sank into the chair he’d offered earlier. “My mother didn’t trust my stepfather to look after me. It was not until Peter had managed to gain control of most of her assets that she realized marrying him had been a mistake, that it was her wealth and control of the company he’d been after, not her.” A bitter taste filled her mouth, causing her to pause.

      “Please, continue,” Tobias prodded when her pause threatened to lengthen into a silence.

      Swallowing back the bile, Hesper obeyed. “At the time of her death, all she had left in her name was the fifty thousand she’d inherited from my father’s insurance. She’d put it in a trust fund for me, to be used for my education. If any was left, when I turned thirty, I was to receive it, in full. After she died, Peter was naturally named executor. I’m sure my mother thought the money was safely guarded for me and it was. Peter couldn’t