“She isn’t a damned broodmare. At least call upon her, wish her well before she departs for London.”

Ethan sustained a blow, another blow, at that pronouncement. “She’s going to London? To live with her brother?”

“She does not confide in me, but she did speak of traveling to London tomorrow, and thanked me for my hospitality.”

Ethan nudged his horse back to a walk. “Give her my… best.”

* * *

Gareth Alexander, Marquis of Heathgate, held his tongue when he wanted to shout that Alice Portman was likely already carrying the consequences of being given Ethan Grey’s best. But then he caught sight of Grey’s sons, regarding him solemnly from the backs of their ponies.

“Did you say Miss Alice was leaving tomorrow?” Joshua spoke up, his tone oddly adult.

“I did,” Heathgate replied, feeling strangely on trial.

Jeremiah scowled, looking very like his father. “And Papa didn’t say anything?”

“Nothing of consequence.”

“That’s stupid.” Joshua glanced over at his brother, who nodded. “Really stupid.”

Heathgate glared down at them. “If it’s so stupid, why don’t you prodigies do something about it? God knows I’ve tried and gotten no damned where at all.”

He twirled his horse in a walk pirouette and trotted off, only a little chagrined that he’d spoken thusly to mere children.

* * *

“You have callers.” The marchioness’s gaze traveled over the possessions Alice had spread out on her bed, then went to the two portmanteaus already waiting beside the door.

Alice paused while folding up a green-and-blue cashmere shawl. “Callers?” The vicar and his wife, maybe? Lord and Lady Greymoor?

“They’re waiting in the family parlor, and I’ve ordered tea.”

“Thank you.” Alice ceased her packing—she still hated to pack but doubted it would ever inspire her to panic again—and took in her ladyship’s guarded expression. The marchioness wasn’t offering to chaperone in the parlor, so it couldn’t be Ethan and Nick waiting for her, and besides, Nick was in Kent with his wife where he belonged. Would Reese and Matthew have come to fetch her? Might Nick have sent for them?

Mind whirling, Alice took herself to the family parlor, glancing around for her visitors.

Joshua grinned at her bashfully. “Hullo, Miss Alice.”

“Oh, Joshua.” Alice went to her knees and held out her arms. “Jeremiah, my favorite gentlemen, it is so good to see you.” They burrowed against her, all elbows and chins and cold, fresh air. Tears sprang to Alice’s eyes as she hugged them to her, and only by force of will did she let them go. “You both look so very well.” She rose to her feet and waved a hand at the sofa. “Won’t you join me for tea, gentlemen?”

“Told you she’d cry,” Joshua muttered at his brother. “There are chocolates too. Lady Heathgate said to tell you. She’s nice.”

“She is.” Alice swiped at her eyes with her knuckles. “You boys are nice too, to come calling like this. I hope you brought a groom.”

“We told Davey where we were going, because he likes to visit his brother,” Jeremiah said, “but after we have some tea and chocolates, we’re not calling on you.”

“You’re not?” Alice set down the teapot, her governess instincts picking up on little-boy mischief in the making. “What are you about?”

“We’re kidnapping you,” Jeremiah said. “We thought about kidnapping Papa, but he’s bigger than you, and he’s already home. You’re not home.”

“I don’t have a home.” This was one of the more painful realizations she’d come to in recent days.

“Yes, you do,” Jeremiah insisted as he helped himself to three chocolates then obligingly held the box for his brother to plunder similarly. “Tydings is your home. We talked about it.”

“Who is this ‘we’?” Alice asked, thinking in some corner of her mind her charges needed to learn proper tea etiquette. Her former charges.

“Both of us,” Joshua chimed in, helping himself to more chocolate. “We love you, so you have to come home with us.”

“Davey isn’t with you, is he?” She did love them—them too.

“We told him we were going to kidnap you,” Jeremiah replied. “He probably followed us.”

“You’re going to get in such trouble,” Alice warned them. “Your father will be beside himself.”

Jeremiah paused between chocolates to spear her with a look. “He doesn’t know we’re gone. He rides with us, and he comes to the table, but he’s in his stupid library all day, and when we tickle him, he only pretends to laugh. It’s stupid.”

“Really stupid.” Joshua sighed dramatically and took yet another chocolate.

“That’s enough, Josh. Miss Alice is getting peevish.”

“Peevish.” Alice rose and wanted to be peevish, but mostly, she was touched and uncertain and worried—worried about Ethan, who needed very much to laugh when he was tickled, and worried she ought to at least say her good-byes to him in person.

She owed him that much.

“Well, then.” Alice held out her hands. “I give up. Kidnap me, gentlemen, or you’ll make that poor box of chocolates walk the plank, right?”

“Right into Davy Jones’s locker!” Joshua crowed, thumping his tummy. He eyed the chocolates, met Alice’s frown, and took one of her outstretched hands. Jeremiah took the other, and when they passed Lord Heathgate on the front stairs, his lordship arched a fine dark eyebrow.

“Going somewhere with my guest, gentlemen?”

“Nope,” Joshua said. “We’re kidnapping her.”

Heathgate nodded his approval. “That’s all right, then. Have a pleasant crime, Miss Portman.”

She managed a weak smile and let the boys tow her right out the door. Waltzer stood solid and handsome at the lady’s mounting block. Alice climbed aboard, arranging her skirts in a semblance of modesty.

“This kidnapping will take place at a dignified walk,” Alice warned her escorts.

“Alice!” The marchioness hurried down the steps to the front terrace. “Take your shawl, my dear. When the clouds cover the sun, it isn’t the least warm today.”

“You are abetting a pair of felons, you know,” Alice said, taking the shawl and wrapping it around her shoulders.

“And such handsome felons, too.” Lady Heathgate beamed a smile at each of the boys where they sat on their ponies. “Come again soon, gentlemen, and perhaps I can talk you into kidnapping Joyce.”

“No, thank you, Lady Heathgate,” Jeremiah managed. “Joshua?”

“I’m ready.” His brother waved to the marchioness. “Thanks for the chocolates!”

Her ladyship waved them cheerily on their way, while Alice felt as if she were riding to the gallows. She wanted to see Ethan again, wanted it desperately, but she did not want to see cool tolerance in his blue eyes, or worse—pity.

Still, she needed to thank him. If nothing else, she needed to thank him for bringing about the death of the man who’d destroyed her sister’s life and a fair portion of Alice’s own health and happiness. Ethan would not want her gratitude; he’d probably not want anything from her ever again.

Inevitably the little cavalcade of two ponies and the captive on her gelding made its way to Tydings. Alice caught a glimpse of Davey following at a discreet distance, and he too waved at her with great good cheer.

They were daft, the cheerful, waving lot of them.

“We’re here!” Joshua announced to the stables at large. Miller appeared and took Waltzer’s reins.

“If it isn’t Miss Alice, come back to us after all the commotion last week. Well done, lads. Down you go, Miss, and I’ll see to his nibs here.”

“You have to come,” Joshua reminded her. “You’re kidnapped now.” He grabbed her hand again, while Jeremiah was content to skip along beside them.

“Your brig can be the library,” Jeremiah decided. “It has lots of books, and you like books, right?”

“I do like books,” Alice said, feeling doom settle around her heart. She was going to see Ethan, after days of not seeing him, but it would be for the last time. Her heart was going to break, and then she honestly did not know how she’d go on, much less why she’d try to.

In no time, she was marched to the library and thrust inside by a pair of self-satisfied, giggling little boys. They banged the door shut behind her and ran off, squealing with laughter.

“I did not ring for tea.” Ethan was at his desk, shirtsleeves rolled up, one finger running down a list of figures, the other hand holding a pen. He did not look up, which gave Alice a moment to study him.

He was gaunt. The bones of his handsome face were more prominent, the lines at the corners of his eyes deeper, and there was a tension in his big frame Alice hadn’t seen since she’d first met him—fatigue, she guessed. A succession of bad nights.

“Ethan?”

He glanced up sharply and was on his feet in an instant.

“Alice?” He came around the desk, gaze fixed on her as if he were afraid she’d disappear. A large, elegant hand reached out toward her, then dropped. “May I take your shawl?”

She said nothing, merely stood there, drinking in the dear, handsome, hopelessly unavailable sight of him. Gently, he eased her shawl from her shoulders, folded it neatly, and offered it back to her.

He’d done this once before, after one of their walks, a small intimate consideration so characteristic of him it had melted her heart. She burst into tears and stood there like a complete fool, clutching her shawl to her middle.

“Don’t cry.” Ethan stepped closer. “Alice, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Alice?”

He did not want to touch her, Alice concluded miserably. He was such a gentleman, but he could not stand to touch her now, knowing what he did about her.