his sons.
“I was my papa’s princess, and my brothers’, as was my sister.”
“And your brothers don’t mind you traveling all over England to see to other people’s children?”
That question, she did not want to answer. “Of course they mind. They are my brothers, and my older brothers at that. But they understand I need to make my own way. We correspond regularly, and when I’m in London, I try to see them.”
“We’ll be in Town for Nick’s investiture, though if you need to see your family sooner, you’ve only to ask.”
Alice smiled at him patiently. “You’ve spent one morning with your boys, Mr. Grey. You would not be so generous were it a long week of mornings, I assure you.”
“If you need to see your family,” he said again with peculiar gravity, “you have only to ask. We’ll put you in the traveling coach, you can stay with Lady Warne, and the boys and I will manage. And you agreed to call me Ethan.”
“Thank you.” Alice cocked her head, seeing he was dead serious, and Ethan Grey’s version of dead serious was serious indeed. “Ethan.”
“Better.” He sipped the last of his drink, and quiet settled around them. For Alice, it was pleasant and peaceful to be out on the shady terrace, sipping lemonade and enjoying a summer afternoon. Out in the sun, particularly if one were active, it would be hot.
“Shall we move a bit?” he asked, rising and extending a hand. “I promise to keep you in the shade.”
“A little movement would be appreciated. I can become too accustomed to the indoors, and that is a waste of pretty grounds.”
“I’m fortunate that Argus makes it worth my while to keep him in regular work. The consequences of neglecting a morning hack don’t bear consideration.” Mr. Grey—Ethan, now—tucked her hand onto his arm. Because his sleeves were turned back, and Alice without her gloves, this put her hand on the bare expanse of his muscular forearm. “This path keeps to the shade and takes us by the stream. If my hearing serves, we are likely to come across a great battle on the way.”
Alice strolled along beside him, thinking he was relaxing more the longer he was on his home turf. Lady Warne had been right to hint he should spend time in his own home, but then again, maybe it wasn’t travel that put him out of sorts, but time with his brother, the earl.
“How was it you were separated from your siblings?” Alice asked when they’d gone some way in silence.
“A misunderstanding. The story of record, until recently, is I accidentally branded Nick’s fundament with an
“Nick’s famous scar.”
“You’ve seen it?” His eyebrows rose, but his voice dropped with some severe sentiment—censure, or possibly disappointment.
“I most assuredly have not, but not for lack of hearing him offer to show it to the dairymaids, the goose girl, the vicar’s granny, and my own self. He says he was branded like a bullock because he was mistaken for one by a drunken herdsman.”
“He would.” Ethan’s smile held relief. “Our father burned an
“No doubt he enjoyed having the maids tend his wound. But you were sent away for this?”
“Not exactly.”
Alice heard the boys shrieking with glee over by the river, heard the soft, summery sounds of the afternoon: birds singing, a breeze soughing through the oaks, a cow lowing for her calf. She forced herself to let out a breath and waited, because Ethan was not done answering her question.
“The earl came by our bedroom at night to check on his injured son,” Ethan said, pausing on the path but keeping Alice’s hand at his elbow. “He found Nick and me in the same bed, which happened frequently. We were great ones for whispering and plotting and rehashing our days so the younger boys couldn’t hear us. I have no doubt we were sharing the same pillow. The next night his lordship found the same situation, and he concluded I had enticed my younger brother into an unnatural association. He feared for his sons, his legitimate sons, and so he sent me away.”
“He thought you had enticed Nick…?” Alice said slowly, while a feeling like panic, but angrier than panic, took hold in her belly. “And, of course, you had not. Not in any way.”
This explained much, all of it bitter and dreadful. Her instinct was to protect the boy he’d been, the boy who might somewhere still lurk inside him. She shifted, so her arms went silently around his waist and her head came to rest on his chest, hugging him as she would one of her charges. “I am so sorry, Ethan. For you, for Nick, and for your father. Did he ever apologize?”
“For his mistake, yes.” His arms closed around her slowly, slowly. “He never knew all the consequences of his error, and I let him die in ignorance.”
“That was kind of you,” Alice murmured against his chest. “What an awful thing to do to one’s children. You and Nick must have been devastated, and I’m sure your father lived to regret his decision.”
She spoke in the plural, regretting the consequences for him, for his brother and father too, but she kept her arms around the man with her.
“It’s in the past,” Ethan said, and still he didn’t let her go.
“Our entire lives are in the past,” Alice snapped. “Your papa might have been a good man, Ethan. I hope he was, but he was terribly wrong.”
“He was.” Alice felt him take a deep breath. “He was about as wrong as a father can be. I loved Nick. I do love Nick, and I’d never…”
“You wouldn’t,” Alice agreed, stepping back and slipping her arm through his. “You absolutely would not, and neither would Nick. Your father was simply wrong, and we must allow that this happens with human beings, but we don’t have to like it one bit or pretend it wasn’t such an egregious error. I suppose you wanted to bellow at him in righteous anger, and he deserved at least that.”
They paced along the path for a few yards while Alice seethed with upset for the man beside her. Fourteen was not so very old, especially not for a boy raised in the sheltered environs of an earl’s country seat.
Ethan paused beside her and cocked his head. “I hear the boys. Shall we leave them in peace or find out how goes the war?”
“You are a man,” Alice said, allowing the change in topic. “War will fascinate you. I am a female. It will appall me. Why don’t you see to the boys and I will return to the house? I think I’m due for another nap.”
“I should escort you,” he said, hesitating. His scowl was aimed briefly at her hip. “Come.” He started to turn them around, to return to the house.
“Don’t be silly. I am well enough to stroll through the shade back to the library. You’ll tend to the letter to Nick for me?”
“Of course.” He let her slip her hand from his arm. “And to the vanquishing of the Corsican and any chance- met dragons.”
Ethan found a dry, shady spot between the battlefield and the water, and sank to the grass to watch his children. They had such energy in their play, such unstinting commitment to the joy of having fun. And yet, they were mindful of each other. He and Nick had been like that. Ethan knew it; he just could not recall the experience of it. He let the boys frolic and splash and dunk each other for a good half hour in the name of washing off the mud of battle.
“Gentlemen!” Ethan rose to his feet when Joshua’s teeth were chattering. “Time to report to headquarters!”
The splashing stopped, and the boys slogged up the bank, with Joshua walking right up to his father’s leg and leaning on it, panting.
“Water is heavy,” Joshua observed.
“But you are not.” Ethan picked up the cool, slippery weight of his youngest, and swung him toward the pile
