“You’re going to make me work for it,” Ethan decided. “Good girl.”

“Work for it?” Alice let him assist her to her feet.

“You do not respond to my offer, Alice, and it’s an offer that requires a yes or no answer. If you refuse me, I will understand I do not appeal to you as a woman finds a man appealing. I will not enjoy the rejection, but neither will it destroy me.” He hoped. “If you reject me, you will continue to be the person to whom I entrust the education of my sons, a respected member of my household, and safe at Tydings from any unwanted advances, including my own.” Damn it.

“We simply ignore this extraordinary discussion and both kisses?”

Ethan smiled over at her. “We pretend to, as best we can.”

“And if I accept your offer?” Alice kept her eyes focused ahead, depriving Ethan of the insights they might yield.

“You decide.” Ethan dropped his voice. “You decide if I come to you or you come to me. If we join in a bed or in the hay mow or on a blanket in the woods. You decide if you remain in the position of governess—I think you like it, for one thing, but it protects your reputation and mine, for another—or we find another governess. You decide.”

He liked—he adored—the idea of them deciding together something as significant as who the boys’ next governess should be.

She turned her face up to the dying sun as she walked along. “I cannot abandon the appearance of propriety, and I am wicked for admitting I’d even consider such a thing. You do kiss exceedingly well, though, and you…”

She trailed off, while Ethan waited.

And waited. He what? Got her on a horse? Would die to keep her safe? Made the loneliness and doubt recede when he took her in his arms?

For she surely did that for him.

“I have much to think about,” Alice muttered. “We would have to be very discreet.”

She was considering it—considering allowing him to become her lover. “I can be discreet.” Ethan ushered her up the terrace steps at a sedate pace, when he wanted to vault them three at time. “And so can you.”

“Give me a week, Ethan. At least a week.”

A week was seven entire days and nights, an infinite procession of moments. How could a yes-or-no decision take that long?

“You may have as long as you please, Alice. It is a lady’s prerogative. I will see you at dinner?”

“I think not. Some solitude will allow me to clear my head.”

“As you wish.” He saw her guard relax a trifle before he swooped in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek. “I will see you at breakfast and in my dreams.” He left her there in the golden evening sunlight, her fingers pressed to her cheek.

Ten

“It’s Buttercup!” Joshua spotted the big mare first, and only his father’s bellowed command stopped the boy from galloping the remaining distance to the stable yard.

“Uncle Nick!” Joshua yelled from the back of his pony. “Uncle Nick, we’re home!”

“You may trot,” Ethan allowed, because they were nearing the arena. “You too, Jeremiah.” Ethan drew his horse to a halt and waited beside Alice’s mount when the boys’ ponies started forward at the faster gait.

And here their outing had been going so well. “It appears my brother is paying a visit. Shall we greet him?”

“I suppose I have no choice?” Alice looked around as if seeking a hiding place.

“You can dismount here. Go on up to the house if you wish, but Nick will see the sidesaddle and ask questions.”

“I’m being silly.” Alice nudged Waltzer forward at the walk. “Nick will tease me, though, and I’d as soon avoid that.”

Her reaction, far from enthusiastic, held a petty kind of reassurance for a man whose overtures took a week to consider. “Nick will behave, or he won’t be welcome under my roof.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Alice murmured as they neared the barns. “He never means anything but fun.”

Ethan was torn between a guilty pleasure that on the face of the entire earth, there was at least one woman whose heart didn’t leap for joy at the prospect of spending time with Nick, and an odd disappointment. Having been assured Alice was not attracted to Nick, Ethan wanted her to like his brother.

Nick came out of the barn looking golden and splendiferous in riding attire. “Can these be my little nephews? You’ve grown just since leaving Kent.” He knelt, so the boys could try to strangle him with hugs around his neck, then rose with a nephew on each hip.

“Ethan.” Nick smiled up at him. “I’ve found some urchins to take back to Kent with me. I think this one will be a boot boy and this one a potboy. Or maybe I’ll keep them until they grow into a matched set of footmen for my lady. She’ll be the envy of Mayfair when she goes shopping.”

“Not shopping!” Joshua screeched dramatically. “Please, Uncle Nick. I want to be a stable boy.”

“Then go put up your pony,” Nick said, setting both boys on their feet. “If you’re quick about it, you can help put up Buttercup, too, while your papa introduces me to the lovely la—Alice?”

Nick’s expression went from that buccaneer’s charming grin, to consternation, to a beaming, genuine smile in a succession of instants.

“I see you’ve met.” Ethan swung down and came around to assist Alice from her horse lest Nick usurp that pleasure for himself. “Alice Portman, may I make known to you your friend Wee Nick. Nicholas, you’d best shut your mouth if you’re to extricate yourself from this without catching a fly.”

“Alice Portman.” Nick shook his head as Ethan lifted her from the horse and set her on her feet. “You prevaricating, deceitful, naughty girl. The air in Surrey is most certainly agreeing with you.”

Alice smiled at him. “Nice to see you again, Nicholas, but you knew I’d been taught how to ride.”

Nick’s smile tilted back toward flirtatious. “I’m not complaining about hiding your ability to ride, sweetheart, though it’s a pleasure to see you in the saddle. I’m taken aback by your ability to hide a siren in governess’s clothing.”

“From you,” Ethan muttered, loud enough for his brother to hear.

“Point taken,” Nick said, still regarding Alice thoughtfully.

“Alice was willing to make the effort to get on a horse for the boys, because she’s to accompany us to Greymoor’s picnic on Wednesday.” Ethan handed his horse off to Miller. “We can toast her with some cold cider or something stronger, now that the morning’s ride is accomplished. May I assume you’ll stay at least the night?”

“Am I welcome?” Nick asked. “I debated sending you a note, but can make other arrangements easily.”

Nick was studying the arena, the trees, the barns… perhaps thinking Ethan would turn aside his own brother. “You will always be welcome, Nicholas. Now come up to the house and let me feed you as best as I can. The staff has Sunday off, and we make do.”

“Alice? Will you be joining us, or will you tarry here with your charges?”

“I do not supervise them in the stables,” Alice replied, but her eyes shifted to Ethan, clearly seeking guidance.

“Come.” Ethan tucked her hand over his arm and did not look at Nick. “You must celebrate your success with Waltzer and supervise Nick and me as we raid the larder.” Alice slipped her arm from Ethan’s as they reached the back entrance.

“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll change out of this habit.”

“If I must.” Nick said. “But not until I tell you again how fetching you look, Alice. Turn yourself out like that on the Ladies’ Mile, and you’ll leave a trail of love-struck, callow swains.”

“Callow swains of any description are of little appeal.”

Ethan let her go, noting that Nick, for all he was happily married, watched the twitch of her skirts with unabashed admiration.

“It’s the glasses,” Ethan said because he’d been guilty of the same oversight, and without Alice’s presence, some of his possess—protectiveness ebbed. “And that bun, and all those sack dresses, and her…” He waved a hand around. “Governess airs.”

“Yes. Governess airs are excellent camouflage. Are we really to fend for ourselves in the kitchen?”

“We are. Fear not, though. I’ve figured out where the bread and butter hide, and which key opens the larder.”

“You have a very pretty property, Ethan.” Nick followed his brother to the kitchen. “I’ve ridden by from time to time, but the walls and hedges make it hard to see much from the lanes.”

“Why didn’t you stop by?” Ethan washed his hands, then extracted a loaf of fresh, white bread from the bread box rather than watch Nick’s reaction to the question. “Did you really think I’d not be home to you?” Because until Barbara’s death, he might not have been.

“I didn’t know.”

Ethan starting cutting the loaf into exactly even slices. “You’ve always had my direction.”

“And you’ve had mine. I see now your property is in excellent repair, your stables full of handsome horseflesh, and your house larger than any of ours, except for Belle Maison itself. I’ve worried about you when I didn’t need to.”

Was that resentment in Nick’s tone, or hurt? “Because I’m well off?” Ethan fetched a half wheel of cheese from the larder and again put the knife to use. “You can slice some of the ham hanging in the hallway, if you don’t mind.”

“You’re well off enough to remarry,” Nick observed, using a basin in the sink to wash his hands before he went to work on the ham.

Ethan wrapped the cheese and took it back to the pantry, then fetched a bowl of ripe peaches, which reminded him of Alice.

Rather than comment on Nick’s observation, Ethan fished in the drawers and cupboards until he found everyday cutlery, linen napkins, and plates. Nick’s arrival on a Sunday was something of a mercy, allowing them privacy while they tried to find a rhythm with each other.