And then the boys had come along, his marriage had gone utterly to hell, and a couple of years later, Barbara was gone.

“It’s just some food and drink with the neighbors, Grey,” Heathgate said. “A picnic, with children rocketing about, pall-mall balls whacking into the dessert table, babies needing attention at inopportune moments, and papas being told to wipe cake off that one’s mouth or put it on this one’s plate. We do it mostly for the ladies, but also for the cousins.”

“How old is your oldest?” Ethan asked.

“He looks to be the same age as yours,” Heathgate replied, his expression patient.

“Joshua and Jeremiah haven’t been in company much,” Ethan said. “They did fairly well at Belle Maison.”

“So bring as many footmen and nannies and dogs as you need to keep them in line, or try to. Each of my children has a separate nanny. They spell each other, the nannies, that is, but the happiness of my entire kingdom turns on the morale of my nannies.” The marquis sounded absolutely sincere.

“One understands, sometimes, why women can be hysterical.”

“One does. So you’ll bring the boys? We gather around four, when the heat starts to fade and the babies have had their naps, and we don’t stay late, because the older ones get cranky if they’re out too long.”

That a marquis should know these things was reassuring.

“I’ll have to bring their governess, Miss Portman.” For any number of reasons. “She will enjoy getting acquainted with the neighbors, I think.”

“Your governess has some odd connections,” Heathgate observed as his horse stepped carefully over a fallen log.

This oh-so-casual comment crossed over from small talk to something more significant.

“Her last position was with some squire’s daughter down in Sussex for five years. How could her path have crossed yours?”

“Not mine. I don’t know if she told you, but her brother is Benjamin Hazlit.”

And how did Heathgate know such a thing? “Your snoop of choice. Nick’s too.”

Heathgate did not dignify that with confirmation. “Hazlit spent the night with us last night, as he sometimes does when he and I have much to discuss. Felicity likes him, and he told her he was calling on his sister, Miss Portman, this morning. Her ladyship dug in, as she will, and extracted from him his sister’s location.”

“Impressive, your marchioness.” Was this why there was a neighborly invitation now, after seven years? The titled neighbors wanted to look over Hazlit’s sister? Had Hazlit put them up to it? “I think Alice likes her privacy, and I know I like mine.”

“We all appreciate privacy. Hazlit more than any of us.”

“He said there was scandal.” Ethan paused, not sure how much to say. “He didn’t ask for me to keep it in confidence, so I don’t suppose there’s harm in telling you.”

Heathgate waved a gloved hand in impatient circles. “Out with it, Grey. I’ve known you half your life, and you know my discretion is reliable.”

An oblique reference, but valid.

“I don’t know what the scandal involved, except that both sisters were affected, and the siblings not at the family seat all use different names to avoid the repercussions of the scandal. There is wealth of some sort, and an estate in the North, but Hazlit told me only that much.”

“He’s a closemouthed devil, but there are more scandals hanging on my family tree than Hanover has princes, Ethan. Let sleeping dogs lie, and all that.”

That Heathgate would use Ethan’s name was a slip. They hadn’t ever assumed such familiarity and probably never would, out of consideration, not for Heathgate’s great title and consequence, but for Ethan’s dignity.

Heathgate smiled. “Have I offended? You can be honest, you know. My wife always is, and it has toughened me considerably.”

“You have not offended. You do surprise me, though.”

“Probably for the first and only time. I will tell Greymoor and his countess to expect you with your entourage on Wednesday, rain or shine.”

“My thanks.” Ethan nodded by way of a mounted bow, and let his companion take the branch of the path that would lead back to Willowdale, while Ethan turned around, overdue to investigate Wellington’s progress against Bonaparte.

Eight

“You are comfortable with Wednesday’s outing?” Ethan asked Alice at breakfast the next morning. The boys had taken off with Davey to try to dig a pond suitable for the reenactment of Trafalgar, though Davey was under strict orders to keep the ocean blue smaller than the size of two horse troughs.

“What I want doesn’t matter,” Alice said. “My charges will go off to socialize with the neighbors, and I will attend them.” Her lips were compressed into a prim line, and she was taking only the smallest sips of her tea.

This testiness on Alice’s part wasn’t about an invitation to picnic with the neighbors, though she was probably not looking forward to that. Ethan regarded his boys’ governess and concluded she was unhappy with her employer, and maybe, were she honest, a little bit with herself. Ethan was unhappy with himself, too.

Alice was under his protection, plain and simple. In the dark hours after midnight, he’d decided he wasn’t to be kissing her, importuning her, or—if he could even figure out how to manage such a thing—flirting with her. She seemed to be sending him the same message, not in so many words.

“I’ve known Heathgate since well before he succeeded to the title,” Ethan said. “We’ve been neighbors for years, but this is the first invitation I’ve been issued. Refusing would have been unpardonably rude.”

Alice sipped her tea, not meeting his eyes. “I understand, Mr. Grey.”

Mr. Grey. To hear her address him thus in that tone of voice rankled exceedingly. “There will be other boys to play with. I’d think you’d see that as a good thing, Alice.”

She closed her eyes at his use of her name, and Ethan felt his temper spike.

“Good God.” Ethan covered her teacup with his hand when she would have raised it to her mouth again. “It was one harmless, albeit passionate, kiss, Alice. Will you punish my children as well as me for that single lapse?”

“I’m not punishing anybody,” Alice said, drawing her hand away from the teacup. “I’m simply not looking forward to being amidst a bunch of twittering ladies and their titled menfolk.”

Ethan considered that and turned loose of her tea.

“They were thoroughgoing rascals as younger men, but both of the Alexander brothers have settled down in recent years. They tend to their business and their land. They raise their children and dote on their wives. They’re domesticated, Alice. They won’t, unlike your employer, be stealing kisses from you in bushes. And for the record, I married my mistress. Some would say that makes me the biggest rascal in the shire.” More fool he.

“You didn’t steal that kiss.”

“I am heartened to hear it. Even such a one as I frowns upon larceny.”

“Stop it.” Alice tossed her napkin on the table and got up, pacing over to the window.

“Stop what?” Ethan rose and stood just behind her. Kissing and taking advantage were deplorable and inexcusable, and he would never do such things again. Probably. There was nothing in the code of gentlemanly behavior to prohibit inhaling a woman’s fragrance though, or admiring the slope of her breast from a discreet angle.

“You refer to yourself as if you’re some reprobate off the hulks.” Alice crossed her arms over her chest, still facing away from him. “In the company you describe, you will be among the better behaved, I’m sure.”

Ethan took a step away as a disturbing notion got hold of him. “You’re not sure at all. Are you ashamed to be seen with me, Alice? Or with my children?”

“Of course not,” she shot back, expression gratifyingly horrified. “How could you think that?”

“Because others have been. If you aren’t concerned about being seen in our company, then what on earth is the problem?” She turned her back again, and Ethan had to strain to hear her.

“How will we get there?”

What queer start was this? “It’s within walking distance, if we take the bridle path. The boys would likely take their ponies, and were I left to my own devices, I’d ride Waltzer.”

Ah, but walking was hard for her, and so was riding.

Ethan almost smiled with relief. “I’ll help you. You can take Waltzer, and I’ll be up on Argus, how’s that? Waltzer is a capital fellow, very willing to please, and as solid as a plow horse.”

“A plow horse?” Alice’s cheeks lost color.

“Yes. Very docile, biddable, sensible, that sort of plow horse.”

Was this what had her in such a taking? She was afraid to ride?

“We could send you in the coach,” Ethan said, “along with whatever contribution we’re making to the picnic, and extra clothes for the boys, in case they should spill their lemonade, for example.”

“Would anybody notice?” Alice asked, her voice small.

“Nobody will think twice about it,” Ethan lied glibly. “If we bring along some blankets, the boys’ hoops, a pillow or two, it will not be remarked. But, Alice?”

“Ethan?”

He was back to Ethan, and that was good.

“I would like to teach you to ride.”

She drew in one shaky breath and shook her head.

“No.” She shook her head again. “No and no. It is good of you, and I appreciate your generosity, and you have my thanks, but no. Absolutely not.”

“What if I rode with you,” Ethan posited carefully, “and we took the stirrups off the saddle?”

“Removed the stirrups? How would that help?”