Ethan: Lord of Scandals

Seven

Ethan left his chambers for the lower floors of the house, his toilet repaired sufficiently for the noonday meal.

His mood, however, was not in good repair at all. He caught the eye of the footman at the end of the corridor. Tall, blond, handsome—like Nick, of course. “It’s Davey, isn’t it?”

The fellow smiled, revealing surprisingly good teeth. “That would be me, Mr. Grey.”

“Be warned. The boys like you.” Ethan hurried off, stomach growling, mood deteriorating apace. If Alice Portman had a gentleman caller, she would in nowise be hanging about Tydings for even her probationary period. No woman in her right mind chose governessing over matrimony.

Where was Ethan supposed to find another governess, and how was he supposed to explain it to the boys?

“Mr. Grey?” Mrs. Buxton stopped him at the foot of the steps. “We’ve set lunch in the dining room. Miss Portman said there’s to be a gentleman for company. She’s in the family parlor with the gentleman, and she asked the boys to join the adults at table.”

Ethan’s eyebrows rose, as this was presumption upon presumption. “She did?”

“She certainly did,” Mrs. Buxton nodded, sails filling with righteousness.

“Then she must have had good reasons,” Ethan said before the housekeeper could launch her first volley. “You will tell the kitchen I’m sure lunch will be exemplary, particularly the vegetable dishes.”

“Aye, sir.” Mrs. Buxton looked confused, but bobbed her curtsy and disappeared, no doubt to inform the kitchen they were in Ethan’s crosshairs.

His mood sank further when he heard genuine, hearty laughter as he approached the family parlor. Alice’s suitor was apparently a charming bastard, making Ethan realize he hadn’t heard her laugh yet—not like that. Alice Portman was overstepping, and—to take a maliciously appropriate leaf from her own book—she could have done Ethan the courtesy of asking.

He swept into the family parlor without knocking, as it was his goddamned house, and Alice was practically sitting in the man’s lap.

“Miss Portman.” Ethan barely nodded. “I see you have an unanticipated guest.”

“Grey.” The man rose, and Ethan saw his face for the first time. “A pleasure to see you again. My sister has said only nice things about you, so I know you’re hiding something.”

God above. Ethan stuck out his hand on reflex, as he did indeed know the man.

“Alice is your sister?” Ethan managed, mental gears whizzing. If Benjamin Hazlit was Alice Portman’s brother, then why weren’t their last names the same? By God, if Alice were married. His mood halted mid-plunge and reversed itself: she might be widowed…

“My younger sister.” Hazlit’s smile was faintly mocking. “I am reporting for inspection, because we haven’t seen each other for some weeks. My apologies for not sending word in advance, but I was in the neighborhood. You have a lovely estate, at least what I’ve seen of it, and Alice says the house is just as pretty.”

“My thanks,” Ethan said, recovering a few of his wits. “Has Al—Miss Portman offered you something to drink?”

Alice smiled at him, and this Alice—who laughed, who welcomed a brother much respected in Polite Society—bore little resemblance to the woman who’d clung to Ethan beneath the maple tree.

“We were waiting for you, Mr. Grey,” she said. “I apologize for not warning you, but Benjamin tends to show up for an unannounced call whenever I change positions. It’s always a pleasant surprise to see him.”

There was a plea in her smile, for forbearance, maybe. She hadn’t invited her brother here and probably wasn’t entirely glad to see the man. And for Alice—Ethan knew this about her—there would always be something unpleasant about any surprise.

“Family should always be welcome,” Ethan said. “Let me ring for drinks. Something chilled might do. Lemonade?”

He could be a creditable host, and he slipped into the role by dint of will. Lunch passed pleasantly, with Hazlit quizzing the boys as if Alice were the charge and they the supervisors.

Joshua grinned at his governess. “If you forget our story, Miss Portman, we’ll make you go to bed without supper.”

“If you send her to bed without supper,” Hazlit said, “she might be cranky the next day. Out of sorts, grouchy—you know what I mean?”

“Miss Portman is never out of sorts,” Jeremiah said, all seriousness. “She says moods and vapors do not become a lady whose task is as important as hers.”

“And that important task would be?” Ethan gestured to the footman to top off everyone’s glass of lemonade.

“Keeping us out of trouble,” Joshua said. “It’s a lot of work, Papa.”

“I can imagine. Shall we take our drinks to the terrace so the kitchen can get to the work of tidying up?”

“It’s my turn!” Joshua bumped his brother aside with a stout application of a pointy little elbow to a fraternal rib, and stood behind Alice’s chair. She rose and waited while Joshua wrestled the chair back.

When the boys had departed for the next installment of Waterloo, the adults enjoyed the shaded end of the terrace.

“I think I’ll go fetch a hat,” Alice said. “I might want to see this famous battle site, but the sun is quite fierce.” The men stood, and Ethan turned to see Hazlit regarding him with the same speculation Ethan was aiming at his guest.

Ethan arched an eyebrow. “The point of your sortie wasn’t to fawn over your sister, though you get marks for being a good brother. What do you want to know?”

Hazlit saluted with his drink. “You share your brother’s gift for plain speaking, which suits me far better than pettifogging inanities. Alice seems happy here.”

“Provided she looks after my children, there is no reason why she can’t be happy here. But we are not addressing your primary concern, are we?”

“We are not,” Hazlit conceded. “Alice may rejoin us at any time, so let me be blunt.” When Ethan said nothing, Hazlit’s near-smile made another fleeting appearance. “It’s like this, Grey. None of us, save my sister Avis, who rusticates in Cumbria, uses our actual family name. Hazlit and Portman hang somewhere nearby on the family tree, but several branches back.”

“And you resort to this subterfuge, why?” Ethan took a slow sip of his drink, not sure he wanted an honest answer but damned certain he’d extract one.

“My sisters were involved in a scandal some twelve years ago,” Hazlit said. “They were not to blame, and they’ve lived exemplary lives ever since. Avis adjusted by burying herself at the family seat and becoming what Wilhelm and I call an instant spinster, though she was quite young at the time. Alice, who was even younger, adjusted by becoming utterly independent. She will not take one penny of her family money, and believe me, there is ample.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Old scandals were the worst kind. They tended to rise up and sink their teeth into one’s present life, and not let go until a high price had been paid. And yet, it made sense. Alice’s bodily symptoms were evidence of a kind of haunting, and nothing haunted like a brutal scandal.

Hazlit swirled his drink. “I’d like your word, if the details of Alice’s past come out, you won’t cut her loose over it without giving me time to step in.”

A bad scandal indeed. “You assume I would cut her loose. I myself have been on the receiving end of more than one scandal.”

“One doesn’t want to presume,” Hazlit said. “And your most notable scandal involved the woman whom you chose to be the mother of your children.”

Hardly. “Your tact is appreciated. My wife was a tramp, which is exactly what I should have expected when I married my mistress, isn’t it?”

Hazlit shrugged. “Not if she loved you. Women are complicated. They can be more loyal than Wellington’s foot soldiers, when they choose.”

Society’s most discreet investigator would need tact like that. “She did not choose, and then too, your sister has condescended to find employment in my household, when my antecedents are worse than suspect.”

“Alice is the last person to hold bastardy against anyone.” Hazlit snorted. “Her last charge, Priscilla, was not legitimate. There were rumors that my half brother was not legitimate.”

“And will he be calling upon my governess unannounced as well?”

“Unannounced gives a man clues he wouldn’t have otherwise been able to gather.”

“Such as?”

Hazlit gave his host a measuring glance. “Such as you are too much of gentleman to eavesdrop, and you are enough of a papa to spend a summer morning in the stables with your sons. Beneath your tailored attire, you have the muscles of a yeoman, which suggests you are not prone to gentlemanly idleness. Your children are welcome at your table and even welcome to speak at table. Your staff is competent, your grounds well maintained, and you call my sister Alice, which means she’s given you that honor.”

“It is a rare honor?” Ethan heard himself ask.

“Outside of family? Your brother Nicholas; Matthew Belmont; Thomas, Baron Sutcliffe, by virtue of his relationship as Priscilla’s uncle; and now… you.”

The other three were married. Happily married.

“I will not abuse the privilege,” Ethan said. “Have you more questions for me?”

“What happened to her predecessor?”

An insightful, uncomfortable question. “As to that…” Ethan ran a hand through his hair and turned to survey his back gardens. “I chose poorly, and my sons paid the price. His name was Harold, tall, blond, the epitome of the earnest English scholar, devoted to his calling. I’m not sure what the boys learned from him, except to fear the birch rod, and me.”

“How long was he here?”

“Since the first of the year,” Ethan said. “Your sister is a lovely change of approach for them, and though I do trust her, I have no intention of allowing anybody such unbridled control of my children again.”

“That’s all you can do,” Hazlit said, sympathy in his eyes. “You vow to be vigilant and never let it happen again, and you pray until God must go deaf from your ceaseless begging.”

Ethan regarded him at some length. Such an invitation was not to be declined.

“It must have been a very bad scandal,” Ethan said. “Is this how Alice was injured?”

“It is. Her injury doesn’t seem to be bothering her though.”

“Her hip gives out on her if she takes a bad step,” Ethan said, pouring them both more lemonade. “Then it pains her for a while. And the breathing spells? You know she had two while at Belle Maison?”

“She didn’t say,” Hazlit said slowly, new respect in his eyes at this confidence. “Change can bring them on, situations that feel out of control, sudden frights.”

“So she controls children, and thus orders her universe,” Ethan said. It was a sound strategy. Ethan himself controlled businesses, which were probably more predictable than children.

Hazlit looked… disgruntled. “You notice things.”

Alice told him things, too, which he wasn’t about to admit to her brother. “From a man of your calling, this is a fine compliment.”

“It is. This is a kind of compliment too, Mr. Grey: if you cause my sister any substantial distress, by being difficult to work for, by being a sorry excuse for a parent, by so much as looking at her with that well-honed imitation of patrician condescension, I will meet you. Your choice of weapons.”

Despite an affable tone, there was a thread of steel in Hazlit’s dark eyes. Ethan gave him credit for rattling a loud sword.

“She has my children in her care, Hazlit. I will be as demanding, sorry, or condescending as I must be to ensure they are safe with her. I appreciate your protectiveness, but Alice is your grown sister, whereas Jeremiah and Joshua are my little children.”

Hazlit’s half smile bloomed into the complete version, illuminating his face with a startling charm. When he smiled, he looked more like Alice and less like some avenging Saracen warrior masquerading in civilized attire.

“We understand each other, Mr. Grey. Now let’s rehearse our chitchat, because no hat could take this long to tie. How is Wee Nick?”

“Managing,” Ethan said. “He will do a good job by the title, and he’s chosen the right countess, but he dreads all the Parliamentary nonsense.”

“He’ll take to it well enough when he sees his first bill pass,” Hazlit said. “But you’d better get your brother George on a shorter leash. He’s cutting a bit of a left-handed swath.”

“We were hoping he’d take ship, but Nick ignores the problem,” Ethan replied. “Perhaps I should take it on.”

“Somebody should try,” Hazlit said. “George is a good soul, not out to harm anybody, but the parsons get to screaming, and the newspapers want a sensation, and next thing you know, somebody’s harmless brother is swinging for what goes on every day in many a great house, dormitory, or back alley.”

“You needn’t preach to me. I’ll talk to him.”

Hazlit turned, his expression softening. “Here comes my dearest Alice. Sister, I am taking my leave of you. Mr. Grey clearly appreciates your talents and will be a biddable employer. Kiss me now, and write often.”

They didn’t just kiss the air beside each other’s cheeks. Hazlit kissed his sister’s cheeks, and then her forehead, but he held her close even a moment after that, the expression on his face oddly pained.

“Thank you for coming, Ben,” Alice said, and Ethan would have sworn her eyes were getting misty. He wasn’t about to thank Hazlit for leaving him with a teary female, for pity’s sake.

“Be well, Allie. I’m here if you need me.”

She nodded her thanks and let him step back. He bowed slightly to Ethan then retreated, his pace, to Ethan’s eye, a little hasty. Alice stood beside Ethan, silent, until her brother disappeared into the stables. A funny little gulp of breath gave her away.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Ethan spun her gently by the shoulders and wrapped her in an embrace. “He’s only going to London, and you can have him out any time.”

“I m-miss him,” Alice said miserably. “He’s such a good brother, and I pushed him away, and this is all we have, and it’s my fault.”

“Hush. Brothers understand these things, and you have more with your Benjamin than I do with my younger brothers or sisters.”

“I miss Avie too,” Alice watered on. “I miss her so much. I haven’t seen her for five years, and that’s my fault too.”

“You are a terrible person,” Ethan assured her gently. “An awful sister and a disgrace of a governess. You should be banned by royal decree. Children should see you held up as a bad example, except my children, of course, and your name should replace Beelzebub’s as the imp of Satan. New sins should be named after you…”

He felt her shoulders twitch, and then she was aiming a soft, damp smile at him.

“Thank you.” When she should have stepped back, she bundled back in against his shoulder. “I’m all right until I see them, Ben or Vim, and then I go completely to pieces, but I miss them too.”

“I cried when I saw Nick for the first time in years.” He could say this to comfort her, and because she couldn’t see his face. “He cried too.”

“Of course.” Alice nodded against his chest. “When I saw Avie, I cried.”

There had been nothing of course about it, not until Alice pronounced it so. Ethan would consider that later. “What is wrong with this sister of yours, that she makes you cry only every five years?”

“She doesn’t leave Blessings and its surrounds,” Alice said, and she did step back—alas. Ethan proffered his handkerchief for her use. “She clings to the place. I can’t stand the thought of it.”

“I love Belle Maison,” Ethan said, missing the feel of her plastered against him. He linked his arm through hers by way of consolation and began a progress toward the battlefield. “Going back there made me recall the painful years of not being allowed to go home. It tainted the good memories.”

She sniffed at his handkerchief before using it to blot her eyes. “You need more good memories. You’ll bring the boys back for another visit, maybe at the holidays. You’ll pop out to check on Nick and Leah, and your sisters. I think they worry about you, by the way.”

“My sisters? We used to call them the Furies when they were little, so passionate were they in their loves and hates. I cannot wait to see what manner of gentleman takes each of them on.”

“Do you suppose they were curious as to which lady you wed?”

“A bastard approaches marriage differently,” Ethan said as they heard the first childish shrieks of glee. “Did honor not compel me, I would not have offered for Barbara, and I do not intend to find myself offering for anybody else.”

Alice peered up at him. “Why not? A woman loses everything by marrying. She becomes property, her children are chattel, and she has no money of her own, no authority over her own life. What could marriage cost a man that’s any worse than that?”

“Interesting perspective.” Ethan resisted the urge to pat her hand on his arm. She’d perceive the gesture as avuncular, and deserved his cooperation in her attempts to restore her dignity. “From my end of the trade, I give up the right to choose any other woman as the mother of my children, I provide for her every need, and all I can do is hope she’s faithful, or at least discreet, and kind to my children.”

Alice smoothed her fingers over his knuckles. “You did make an unfortunate choice.”

“We fought bitterly,” Ethan said, pausing out of sight of the warring armies. “And loudly, and often, but it pleased her somehow. I wasn’t raised with antipathy between the earl and his wives. I’m sure they had spats, but not before the children, and not so… viciously.”

He could reveal this much and have it be a relief, not a humiliation, or not much of one.

“My brother claims a mean woman will outstrip a mean man any day,” Alice said. “I’m sorry, Ethan, that all you knew of marriage was unhappy. You deserved better.”

He was, to his astonishment, coming to think he had too. “We patched things up somewhat when Barbara fell ill. Even before, I realized it didn’t matter to Barbara what we fought about, as long as she could get me to lose my composure. The last thing I wanted was to ally myself with a cruel intimate.”

“Well said,” Alice murmured. “Cruelty finds us often enough we needn’t seek it out.”

He wanted to hold her again, to press her soft, feminine body along the length of him and give and receive the comfort of simple touch.

And he wanted to toss her over his shoulder, cease this useless talking, and plunder her charms until her legs were locked around his naked flanks and she was whispering his name—a thought not nearly as astonishing as it should be.

He settled for a kiss.

The Baroness Collins put aside her letter, though correspondence was usually a welcome respite from the solitary monotony of penurious rustication. As a widow, she had peace, though, and peace was no small treasure.

Hart did not have peace, and never had. He’d gone from spoiled boy to rotten young man, making trouble with the help, and then with the neighbors. His mischief had gotten him all but banished to the Continent, where English coin went further toward procuring the lifestyle Hart believed was his due.

His current hostess was pleased to have a baron among her guests, but also tacitly complained about Hart’s treatment of the maids. Maids bore an unfortunate lot in life, but the smarter ones knew how to work that to their advantage. The baroness could not spare much concern for the maids.

Her concern was not even for her son, but rather, for the younger Portmaine girl, said to be governessing in Surrey. The letter cheerily informed the baroness that Hart’s next destination lay in Surrey, and that was not a good thing.

Not a good thing at all.

Ethan Grey’s company was seductive, and not just in the erotic sense. Alice was coming to think she could tell him anything—tell him everything—and he’d absorb all her terrible sorrows and secrets without thinking any less of her.

And yet, there was a carnal attraction, too, all the more appealing for the way he could receive or bestow a difficult confidence without flinching. The notion of genuine intimacy with him, intimacy of the body, mind, and heart, beckoned irresistibly.

His kiss was a surprise, though Alice recovered quickly. A soft, careful touch of his lips to hers was enough to inspire Alice to twine her arms around Ethan’s neck. She sighed against his mouth, in relief and satisfaction. She had not imagined their mutual appeal, not conjured it from loneliness and fancy.

He pressed his mouth more firmly to hers and let his hands slide down to her hips, an embrace that anchored her even as it transgressed beyond a stolen kiss. Alice wiggled a little with the pleasure of it, and brushed her thumbs over his cheeks, a slow, learning caress that both satisfied and stirred the peculiar ache in her middle.

And then she should have eased back, because a pleasant kiss was ricocheting around in her body, becoming a demanding, intensifying, stubbornly focused prelude to all manner of mischief. Instead, Alice sank more snugly into him, letting her breasts press against his chest. Lest he abandon her for her forwardness, she took his bottom lip between her teeth.

He muttered something, God in heaven maybe, and against her belly, Alice felt unmistakable evidence of male arousal.

Ethan slipped his tongue along her lips, and she went up on her toes, hungry for him. She met him, shyly at first, but he went slowly, always asking, never demanding, and she was soon exploring him as carefully as he was her. Her tongue rubbed along his; her hands traveled over his shoulders to his back, through his hair, and along his arms; and her body leaned into his embrace.

“Alice…” The dratted, enchanting man tried again to ease away. “The boys are just through the trees.”

“Boys?” She was kissing his neck, tasting the salt and cedar of his skin, wanting to rip off his shirt and kiss him everywhere.

“Joshua and Jeremiah,” he reminded her, his arms still wrapped around her. “My sons.”

“We should stop?” Whyever…? She kept one hand resting on his shoulder for balance. With the other she petted his chest through the fine tailoring of his shirt and waistcoat.

“Yes, love.” Ethan’s breathing was ragged. The chest she’d like to learn intimately was heaving. “We should stop.” He tucked her closer, so Alice could feel his heart thudding along beneath her cheek. “Just let me hold you.”

She wanted to kiss him some more, endlessly, wickedly. She could not lift her face from his shoulder though, because his hand cradled the back of her head.

He was, however gently, defending himself from her advances. “Oh, dear.”

“None of that, love. I kissed you first.”

She stood in his embrace, her hands linked around his waist, and cast around for something to say. An apology came to mind, even a tender of resignation, but then she felt Ethan’s arousal, a rigid presence against her belly. She eased her body away from his, though she didn’t take a step back.

“I am afraid to look at you,” she said, nose still buried at his throat. “I am mortified.” Men could not help their responses, not even a man as self-possessed as Ethan Grey.

“You are lovely,” Ethan corrected her. “We merely got a little carried away on the basis of confidences exchanged. I gather it’s been a while for you?”

He sounded hopeful, not embarrassed. She did pull back enough then to see his face. “A very long while. You?”

“Years.” He tucked her back against him, out of kissing range. “Long, long years.”

“You don’t seem to be out of practice,” Alice remarked on a sigh.

“Oh, shame on you.” Ethan nuzzled her crown with his chin. “I am inspired by present company and trust the same is true for you.”

This was not mere gallantry. He sounded as flustered as she felt—which was no end of reassuring, though it did not change their circumstances. She mustered a smile and slipped her arms from his waist. “I did not expect this to happen.”

His eyes shuttered, suggesting her observation was not what he wanted to hear. “You did not expect it to happen, or you wish it had not happened? I can manufacture an apology if you absolutely insist.”

“I did not expect it.” Alice managed a few steps of distance and turned her body so she would not see him and his blue eyes and his broad shoulders, much less any evidence of their kiss. “If we are honest, we will admit neither one of us wants a complication.”

“A single kiss does not a complication make.” Bless the man, he was going to see reason, though he didn’t sound happy about it.

“It doesn’t.” Alice’s smile felt bleak. “But you are my employer, and neither of us wants marriage, so we must deal with the question of intentions.”

“Must we deal with it now?”

His voice told her he’d come closer. If he touched her again…

“I was crying, and then I plastered myself all over you, and I know men are prone to… well, no, we need not parse this quite yet.”

“Good. I really would not want to cause you hurt, Alice. If you’re offended, you must tell me, and I will take myself off to Town or go sea bathing or something until we can pretend this kiss did not happen.”

That he could pretend any such thing was lowering in the extreme. Alice reached for pride but found only rueful humor. “I don’t think a single unexpected kiss merits anything so drastic as sea bathing.”

She risked a glance at him to find he was smiling crookedly.

“No sea bathing then. Will you come inspect the battle with me?”

“I think not.” Alice tugged her floppy straw hat up from her back to her head. “Today is Friday, so we will have the children to join us at dinner. I will spend the afternoon writing out next week’s lesson plans, though, and hope we can proceed with a bit more structure starting Monday.”

“A little more,” Ethan said. “I don’t think the boys have had a real break here at home for at least a year, when I hired Harold’s predecessor.”

“They had a nanny before that?”

He looked pained, which was fine. Alice was pained, to be kissing him one minute and then find he was happy to discuss his children the next. While she wanted to… to climb him, to knock him flat on his back and kiss him for the rest of the summer.

“They had nannies.” He lifted a hand and traced his finger along her hairline. “You’ll be all right?”

Maybe he wasn’t so happy to discuss his children.

“I will be fine,” Alice said, going up on her toes to brush her lips against his. “Just fine.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything more. Alice turned and made her way up to the house and left Waterloo for Ethan to deal with.

Where did a governess learn to kiss like that?

Was this raging, pounding need what had driven Nick from one bed to the next with any willing female?

What if the boys had seen them?

What had he been thinking?

And when could he get his hands on her again?

Ethan did not turn directly for the stream, but took a circuitous path that kept to the shade of the home wood and took him farther from his children’s shouts and battle cries. He came to a clearing, one graced with a little gazebo, and sat himself down on the steps to consider the developments of the past hour.

What he wanted—besides the freedom to plunder his governess’s charms without any consequences—was to talk to his brother. Nick wouldn’t laugh, and he would understand, and if there were answers to be had from greater experience of women and intimacies with them, Nick would share the answers.

But Nick was far away, and Ethan had imposed on him enough for one summer.

God in heaven, what a lovely, lovely kiss.

Ethan’s steps took him to the Tydings stable, where he busied himself saddling one of his spare mounts. Waltzer was a big, muscular dark bay, with the personality of a puppy dog.

“He’ll be fresh,” Miller said. “Mind you walk him out in this heat, guv.”

“I’ll be careful,” Ethan replied, securing the girth. “I’m not out for any great feats of athleticism, but it’s been a trying day.”

“You didn’t let Thatcher go,” Miller said as he handed Ethan the bridle.

“I should have.” Ethan took off the headstall, and had to smile as the horse obligingly dipped his big Roman nose, trying to find the bit. “I shall, if you see him so much as forgetting to scrub a bucket.”

“Ponies are tough.”

Ethan straightened and glared at his stable master. “That pony carries my son around. Thunder doesn’t need to be tough. He needs to be the safest mount I can provide for Joshua, and that means no gratuitous beatings.”

“I take your point.”

Ethan didn’t say another word, just led the big horse out to the mounting block and swung up. With his usual willingness to please, Waltzer cantered off, only kicking out behind once when he passed a paddock full of yearlings.

Having permitted the horse to express his good spirits, Ethan brought him back to the trot and turned him into the woods along a track that met up with the stream. A bridle path ran parallel to the far side of the water, so Ethan let the horse splash across then turn away from the house and grounds toward the cool of the deeper woods. The path would take him past several of his neighbors’ properties, and by agreement, was available for the enjoyment of all whose land bordered it.

“Well met, Grey,” a voice sang out on an approaching chestnut.

“Heathgate.” Ethan drew up as his neighbor approached him. The chestnut was as handsome as all of Heathgate’s mounts, but this one was also particularly elegant.

“Is that a mare?”

“You think your brother is the only one who can appreciate the fairer sex in another species?” Heathgate asked. He still had the same gimlet-hard blue eyes he’d had as a younger man, the same dark hair, and an even leaner, more unreadable face. Oh, and for the last fifteen years or so, he’d sported his grandfather’s lofty title too. Ethan might not have chosen to settle at Tydings had he known Gareth Alexander would be one of his neighbors.

He owed the man, owed him for intervening long ago in a situation most would have quietly run from, and owed him even more for never once bringing it up.

“Nicholas hasn’t the luxury of considering gender before size, sanity, and soundness in his personal mounts,” Ethan said. “She’s very pretty.”

“She is.” Heathgate’s smile was fleeting as he patted the horse’s neck. “And a lady of particulars. How fare your boys?”

Parenting was a useful source of small talk, though Ethan had never appreciated this before. “They are busy. We’ve just come back from several weeks with Nicholas and his countess at Belle Maison, and picked up a new governess in the process. I have only two children, and yet it seems they cause enough mayhem and activity to bring the entire house down on occasion.”

“It gets easier,” Heathgate said. “My last one was easier than the first one, and thank the gods she’s a girl, because my marchioness was determined Lady Joyce have a sister.”

“Two will be my limit. Your family thrives?”

“Loudly. Hence the appeal of a quiet hack. Constantina here could use a chance to catch her breath on the way home.”

The words held a careful invitation. “I’ll join you,” Ethan said, because to do otherwise would be rude. He liked Heathgate, had liked him before his acquisition of his grandfather’s title. The marquis cared not one whit for Society’s opinion, and he’d married where his heart led, despite his wife being merely a viscount’s spinster daughter. There was really nothing not to like.

Except Heathgate had seen Ethan in the worst, most vile, degrading moments of Ethan’s life. The knowledge lay between them, assiduously ignored every time they met.

So… onward to more small talk.

“My sons have recently demonstrated to me their affinity for jumping their ponies,” Ethan said. “At a dead run.”

“Of course. They’re boys.”

“And thank God,” Ethan went on, “they’re on a pair of game ponies. But Joshua and Jeremiah will soon acquire more of my height, and I was thinking something from your brother’s stable might serve as a next step.”

“Ladies’ mounts? I suppose the principles are the same. Greymoor found my son James’s first pony, as well as Pen’s. You might corner Greymoor at a gathering of the clan at his place on Wednesday. I’m sure his countess would be happy to send along an invitation.”

And just like that, another turning point loomed before Ethan. He’d owned Tydings for seven years, and yet he didn’t socialize, didn’t trade calls, didn’t expect to be invited to share a drink or a meal with his neighbors. First, he was of questionable ton, being illegitimate, but then he’d committed a far worse transgression by marrying his mistress. Even had the neighbors been amenable, the idea of turning Barbara loose on the unsuspecting gentry of Surrey had been unthinkable.

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.