Ethan poured two drinks, handed one to Nick, then eyed the French doors.
“It’s lovely out,” Nick said. “You can see the stars, unlike in Town, and the crickets are singing. Why don’t you think Alice would marry you?”
“She’s been badly spooked,” Ethan replied as they found some chairs on the terrace. “Very badly spooked, though I don’t know the details. Something to do with her sister and the scandal and so on. She has her own money and works only because it affords her a badly needed excuse to remain away from the family seat.”
“She told you all this? I’ve met some self-contained women in my time, Ethan. Alice takes first honors in that category. Reese Belmont lived with her for years and never knew she had siblings.”
“I am not Reese Belmont. In any case, I think Alice is a governess because she adores children but believes she won’t have any of her own.” And why it had become necessary to share that insight was a mystery as imponderable as the stars.
“Sad. The people who have children are not necessarily the people who deserve them.”
“So I’ve thought.” Ethan sipped his drink, trying to ignore the way Nick peered at him in the dim lighting.
“You’re thinking of your late wife and possibly your dear self.”
“Oh, possibly.” Ethan took another sip. “This really is a fine whiskey.”
“I’m not letting you change the subject this time, Ethan. If Alice were willing, would you marry her?”
“She isn’t willing,” Ethan reminded Nick, and himself. “But if she were—the boys love her already, I can barely keep my hands to myself… I wouldn’t deserve a lady like her.” And there was the irrefutable, bedrock truth. He would never deserve a woman like her.
“She’s a governess,” Nick scoffed. “Maybe by choice, but she’s a governess, Ethan. What’s not to deserve?”
“She’s a lady, Nicholas. In every sense of the word, she’s a lady, and in every sense of the word, I am a bastard. Is there any more of that whiskey?”
He handed Ethan the rest of his drink. “I miss my Leah.”
“A good woman is always worth missing.” Ethan took a sip and passed the drink back to Nick. “A good woman misses you too.”
“I miss her more,” Nick grumbled, taking his sip and returning the drink.
“Of course you do.” Ethan accepted the glass. “But if you take your lonely little self up to bed, you might see her in your dreams, and when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll be that much closer to holding her in your loving arms.”
“You are sending me to bed before I embarrass myself with maudlin behavior.” Nick rose, accepting the last swallow of the whiskey.
“Or I do.” Ethan remained seated. “Sweet dreams, your lordship, you’ve had a trying day. But, Nick?”
“Lordship me again, and I will have to thrash you, and then Alice will thrash me, aided by your offspring.”
“You’re doing well,” Ethan said, staring off across the dark gardens. “With our siblings, with me, ditching Papa’s weaselly jackals—with the earldom—you’re off to a fine start.”
“Blather.” Nick bent to kiss his brother’s cheek. “Utter, senile, meaningless blather.”
Ethan waited until Nick’s footsteps had retreated into the house before murmuring to the night air, “Love you too. Always have.”
Alice arrived to Lord Greymoor’s property as part of a veritable entourage. Ethan, Nick, and the boys were mounted, as was she, followed by Davey and a groom on horseback as well. The coach had been sent ahead, with changes of clothing for Alice and both boys, several baskets of ripe peaches, a hamper of the requisite enormous muffins, a wheel of Danish cheese, a pall-mall set, and a bottle of peach cordial for the lady of the house.
“It’s a good thing you’re riding,” Ethan said as they emerged from the bridle path. “There’s hardly room in the coach for a grown person.”
“I didn’t know you imported cheese,” Nicholas said from Alice’s other side.
“Import and export. English cheddar is among the best cheese there is,” Ethan said. “You are not to gallop up the drive, Joshua Nicholas Grey. Nor you either, Jeremiah.”
Nick looked pleased. “You gave him my name?”
“I gave them both your name. Alice, we’re off Tydings property. Is Waltzer behaving?”
“He’s a perfect gentleman. Just like my smallest escorts.”
Nick frowned at his mare’s mane. “I’m behaving. She must be unhappy with you, Ethan.”
“Hush, Brother. We’re about to make our grand entrance. Will I do?”
“Will you do?” Nick snorted. “I have a bet with Miller that Lady Greymoor has invited at least a half-dozen eligible young ladies to inspect the widowed and wealthy Mr. Grey. You could have eight little boys, a hunchback, and a squint, and they’d be delighted to make your acquaintance.”
“You’re jaded, Nicholas.” Alice offered this reproof because Ethan was sitting noticeably straighter on his horse. “You narrowly escaped a Society marriage, so you can’t see simple neighborliness for what it is, and any young lady would be delighted to make Ethan’s acquaintance.” Every young lady with any sense, in fact, a thought which dimmed an otherwise beautiful summer day.
“Hah.” Ethan smirked at Nick, but Nick got even by assisting Alice from her horse and leaving his hands just an instant too long on her waist.
“Behave, Nicholas,” Alice said, “or I will tell the boys you want to spend the entire afternoon with them.” Nick’s hands dropped as if burned, but he was saved from a reply by the arrival in the stable yard of Lord Greymoor and a pretty, petite blonde.
“My heart.” Nick wrapped the woman in a careful, if enthusiastic hug. “The day just grew more fair as I gaze upon the visage of my dearest little countess.”
The countess extricated herself from his embrace with an exasperated smile. “Save that balderdash for your horse, Nicholas, who probably takes it even less seriously than I. Introduce us, please.”
Nick made a proper job of it, introducing first Alice then Ethan, then presenting the boys. If introducing the governess to such august company was unusual, no one remarked it.
Greymoor, dark-haired, blue-eyed, and of a height with Ethan, bowed over Alice’s hand. “I do not ride a mare upon whom I might practice my flummery. You’ll have to do with a simple ‘Lovely to see you again.’”
Lady Greymoor met Alice’s gaze. “Humor my husband, please. Nick started it, but don’t encourage him. Mr. Grey, we expect you to be a good influence. They are in short supply at this gathering. Now, Miss Portman, you must accompany me inside, where we will get you into something more comfortable than that habit, while the men start snitching from the desserts. Greymoor, our guests need libation, and somebody ought to find James, William, Pen, Joyce, and Rose so the children might get acquainted.”
She swept Alice toward the house by the simple expedient of linking their arms. Alice knew with a certainty the men were admiring the view of their retreat.
“You are no governess,” Lady Greymoor remarked as she led Alice into the house.
“I beg your pardon, your ladyship?” Alice almost stopped walking, but such was Lady Greymoor’s forward momentum that Alice was tugged along anyway.
“At least you’re not a tart, like Mr. Grey’s late wife,” she went on. “Not that a tart is necessarily a bad choice. Greymoor was something of a tart when we wed. His brother was a very bad example, and there were extenuating circumstances. Your clothing was sent up to a guest room.”
“You need not accompany me,” Alice protested. The woman was a countess, for all her youth, and the hostess of the gathering.
Lady Greymoor turned a charming and alarmingly determined smile on her. “I very much do, and I am to let you know Lady Warne will join Mr. Grey for dinner at Heathgate’s on Saturday. You’re to let Mr. Grey know, as fair is fair, and the men won’t see it done. What lovely hair you have—I’ve often wished I weren’t so infernally blond, but Greymoor claims we make a stunning couple.”