“Because the old Ethan, my brother Ethan, would have argued me right out of my positions, because they are not entirely logical—I comprehend that—and he would have done so without causing me to resent his superior reasoning. He took a first in mathematics, you know.”

“And his Latin is excellent. Where did he go to school before Cambridge?”

“Stoneham,” Nick replied. “Some dreary place up north. Lady Warne about tore a strip off Papa when she got wind of it. I gather it is not a congenial environment, as boarding schools go.”

Alice felt the tea in her belly abruptly curdle. “God above. Stoneham is not far from Blessings, Nick. It’s a horror.”

Nick’s hand went still, the eraser poised above the whimsical sketch. “A horror? What constitutes a horror, Alice? And don’t spare me the details.”

“Adequate academically, and probably not too harsh for the typical meek younger son, but for an earl’s disgraced bastard… Stoneham is one of the places boys go when they’re sent down from the better schools. There’s an assumption at such institutions that ‘boys being boys’ means many boys will be hurt, deprived of their meals, beaten, and worse.”

Nick looked heartsick, a disquieting thing on a man so large and generally sunny. “What you describe is bad enough. Ethan did nothing to deserve such a fate.”

“Some would call such a fate an opportunity. He got into Cambridge, and did well there.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Alice?” Nick met her gaze squarely, but Alice could see him steeling himself for her reply.

“My half brother Vim attended Stoneham at one point,” Alice said. “He came home with a broken arm after only a few weeks of the Michaelmas term. He got crosswise of some baron’s lordling and was attacked by a gang one night on the way to the privy. He lost the hearing in one ear for most of a year as well, and we weren’t sure he’d be able to see out of one eye.”

Nick stood, almost knocking the bench over. “At Stoneham?”

“At Stoneham. And from what Vim said, the proctors and deans regarded this as tolerable behavior between young men of unequal standing.”

“Because your brother was a bastard?”

“He wasn’t. He was my mother’s son from a prior marriage, wealthy, much loved, and very bright. His family was right at hand and outraged on his behalf.”

“Ethan was there for two years. He didn’t leave the premises even once.” Nick scrubbed a hand over his face again, and his gaze slewed around toward the door. His expression was tortured as he backed away from Alice. “I have to… You’ll excuse me.”

And then he was gone, leaving a sketch of such whimsy and grace on the table, Alice thought it worthy of framing and hanging on the schoolroom wall.

* * *

“You look a little tired,” Ethan remarked, pushing off the door jamb to Alice’s room and settling himself at her escritoire. The desk wasn’t far from the bed, but Alice was relieved he’d stopped there.

And… disappointed.

“I am tired. I sleep better here at Tydings than I did at Sutcliffe or Belmont Hall. I think it’s because the boys keep me moving, and not just about the house, but all over the grounds.”

“Does it bother your hip?”

“At first, yes. It ached, but now it seems stronger.” A good deal stronger. How had this happened in just a few weeks?

“Maybe the riding helps. Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“I will be relieved to have it over with, though the boys are looking forward to it and promising to be on their best behavior.”

“I’ll bring Davey,” Ethan said. “If there are three adults to manage two little boys, we might stand a chance.”

“You aren’t to manage them. You’re Mr. Grey, the invited guest, and Davey and I will see to the children.” To remind him of the hierarchy reassured Alice, or it ought to.

Ethan rose and ambled the short distance to the bed, coming down beside her. “I wish you did not see yourself as subordinate.”

With his weight on the mattress, Alice was pitched against his side. “I don’t see myself as subordinate. I see myself as employed.”

“You don’t have to be,” Ethan went on. “Your brother said there’s a great deal of family wealth.”

“There is, and when I’m too old to keep up with a child, I’ll have need of it. Benjamin invests my share, and it does quite nicely.”

Ethan had turned his head, as if he’d study Alice’s ear. The thought was unnerving. “I’d be happy to speak with him regarding some worthy projects. I don’t bruit it about, but I am occasionally called to Carlton House to whisper in the Regent’s ear regarding his finances.”

Whisper in the… “You’re what?”

“That’s my reaction as well.” Ethan looked a little puzzled. “I peer at the records for that monstrosity he’s building in Brighton, assess which roads ought to be improved in which order, that sort of thing. Suggest a few investments that might turn him a profit. He’s an intelligent man, is Prinny, and in a difficult position, but he does listen and seldom forgets what he’s heard—unless he’s passed out or far gone with some other sin.”

“Sin. Always a worthy topic in lofty circles.” And in the bedrooms of lowly governesses.

“Are you contemplating the sin of fornication with me, Alice? Do I dare hope you are considering such a thing?”

“Ethan.” Alice made herself pull away. “The door.”

“It’s closed.” He nuzzled at her neck.

Alice shut her eyes and angled her jaw. “It’s not locked.”

“Alice?” Ethan’s gaze was curious, but in his eyes, Alice saw banked heat.

She shook her head. “I am not suggesting we… sin right here and now. Your sons are across the hallway, probably still whispering and plotting about tomorrow, and they could interrupt at any moment.”

“A gap in my strategy,” Ethan chided himself as he rose and went to the door. “And now the door is locked.”

His walk as he crossed the room this time was the relaxed, feline glide Alice usually observed. The grace was there, and the power, but the purpose had changed. He was stalking her, closing in on his objective with single-minded determination.

“This isn’t the right time, Ethan.”

“Agreed. You are nervous of me, and I would reassure you.”

Was the gazelle nervous of the lion? “You won’t hurt me,” Alice said, believing it. He wouldn’t hurt her physically, for all his size and muscle.

He peered down at her. “Of course I wouldn’t. I promise you that.”

To her consternation, he dropped to the floor before her, stuffed a pillow under his knees, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Ethan?” Alice’s hand settled on his golden hair, unable to resist touching him in such a docile pose—such a deceptively docile pose.

“Nick and George went at it just before dinner.” Ethan laid his head in her lap, resting his cheek against her thigh. “They all but resorted to fisticuffs in the grand fraternal tradition.”

“That would be a rousing match. Nick is nigh half a foot taller than your brother George.”

“And carrying considerably more muscle. They were spoiling to get a piece of each other, but I couldn’t allow it.”

“What were they arguing over?” Alice asked, stroking Ethan’s hair then feathering her fingers over his cheek, forehead, and jaw. To touch him this way was lovely; to hear his troubles and worries was lovelier still.

“Each accused the other of behaving badly without regard to the family’s sensibilities or his own safety,” Ethan summarized, “and they were both right.”

“Nick was a tramp,” Alice said flatly. “I hope his wife understands this about him. His ability to remain faithful to her should not be taken for granted.”

“I know.” Ethan nuzzled at Alice’s hip. “That feels good, what you’re doing.”

“You are tired.” He was tired and cuddled in her lap, and who would have thought him capable of such a thing?

“I am.” He sat back, and took off his neckcloth and unfastened the collar of his shirt. “So I won’t trouble you for long.” He tucked himself against her again, and then went still, until Alice’s hands found him once more, and he let out a quiet sigh.

“George was at university until this summer, wasn’t he?” Alice asked as she kneaded the muscles of Ethan’s neck.

“Good Lord.” Ethan’s sigh was louder. “That feels heavenly, and yes, George has just completed his formal education. He’s agreed travel would complement his studies nicely.”

“Travel?” Alice switched her grip with one hand and cradled Ethan’s jaw with the other. “As in, on the Continent?”

“For now.” Ethan shifted his shoulders, wedging himself more snugly against her. “George prefers the intimate attentions of men, and this is unsafe behavior.”

“Unsafe?” Alice knew her tone held more than a touch of dismay. “It’s considered immoral, unsanitary, and felonious.”

“You judge him? How is it any more immoral than carousing the way Nick did, or taking to wife a woman only tolerated on the fringes of Society as I did?”

“I understand you and your brothers haven’t been saints, Ethan, but George’s preference could get him hanged. I suppose this is why Nick wanted to use his fists.”

“It is,” Ethan muttered, sounding drowsy. “And George was just as frustrated, because he envisioned Nick with diseases that could have taken his reason or his ability to ensure the succession, or blotting the family escutcheon with his peccadilloes.”

“George has a valid point. I suppose both men were insisting they’d been careful, but obviously not careful enough if each knew of the other’s risks.”

“They were able to see that.” Ethan shifted to rest his face against Alice’s other thigh. “Nick apologized, as some truly dreadful gossip devolved to George as a consequence of Nick’s behaviors, and George agreed essentially to go on reconnaissance and see if there might be some places he’d enjoy living abroad.”