“Stephen,” Dorothy hissed in a low breath.

  Stephen didn’t turn to look at her but continued to glare at Lord Chilmond.

  “We had a chaperone.” The Viscount pointed lazily at the maid, who was now doing her best to hide her face. “Lady Dorothy can do as she wishes. You are not her keeper, Your Grace.”

  Stephen stepped forward, rage boiling in his veins.

  “Stephen.” Dorothy caught his arm again. “Lord Chilmond, I think His Grace is somewhat tired at the moment due to his injury. Could you leave us alone for a minute please so we can talk?”

  “Of course.” Lord Chilmond bowed and hurried away, with the maid slowly following behind.

  Stephen waited for the side door of the house to close firmly before he rounded on Dorothy, his hands folding. “Any other time, I would have been impressed at your reaching for propriety.”

  “I know. I thought it might impress you.” She smiled broadly. “I wasn’t bad, was I? When in actual fact, if I had done as I wanted, I would have elbowed you in the rib to stop you from speaking in such a way.” When he continued to glare at her, her smile faded. “What is wrong, Stephen? This is not in your character to look as if you are about to lunge at a man and hit him.”

  “You were walking with him.”

  “And why would that matter to you?” She stood taller. “You have said nothing about… about…” She struggled for words.

  “Tongue-tied, now? That is unlike you.”

  “Well, maybe both of us are acting out of character at the moment.”

  “Perhaps we are,” he agreed, nodding slowly.

  “You have said nothing about what nearly happened in your room.”

  “Shh.” He waved a hand madly in front of her. “I think it best we never talk of that. Never.”

  “Never?” she spluttered. “Stephen, you were leaning toward me.”

  “I was knocked on the head. I lost my marbles for a minute.”

  “Oh, because that is the only reason you would ever consider kissing me, isn’t it? If you had lost all your good sense.” She tapped her temple in emphasis.

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “That is exactly what you said!” She turned on her heel and marched away from him, back through the garden and toward the drive.

  “Where are you going?” he called, marching after her.

  “Away from you, as far away as I can get. Why should I be around a man who baffles me so much?” She waved her hands manically. “I cannot believe you just said what you said.”

  “What?” he spluttered.

  “Am I so awful that you really had to lose your mind to even think about…” She glanced back at him, her face flushed red.

  For a wild moment, Stephen thought he saw tears in her eyes, but she turned away, and he could no longer see her face.

  “Dorothy!” he hissed.

  Dorothy grabbed her skirt and jumped over a yew bush, separating the two of them. She turned around and shot him a victorious look. “We both know you will not follow.”

  “No? You think not?”

  It was taller than the flower border he had jumped over before, but he clambered over the bush to follow her.

  “What has gotten into you?” she cried.

  Twigs from the bush had caught in his trousers, but Stephen didn’t care. He just pursued her again as she neared the drive.

  “Where’s the man who would sooner sit dutifully in a chair and not move a muscle as he chastised me for walking through a garden with wild abandon?”

  He’s gone.

  Stephen kept this thought to himself as they stepped onto the drive.

  “Dorothy! I need to talk to you.” He reached for her hand and spun her back to face him. “It’s about Lord Chilmond.”

  Dorothy blinked madly, and Stephen saw that he had not been wrong. She was, indeed, fighting tears.

  “What did I do?” His voice softened. “God’s wounds, Dorothy. Do not cry.”

  “I am not crying.” She blinked again and jerked her head away, but she didn’t pull her hand out of his.

  “Dorothy—”

  “Stephen!” a familiar voice shouted.

  Dorothy leaped back, this time tearing her hand out of his as he spun around.

  The carriage that had been pulling up the drive before had now come to a stop. The door was flung open before a footman could reach for it, and Allan stepped down from the carriage.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Allan?” Dorothy stepped as far back from Stephen as she could, then turned her body, making it look as if she had been running toward Allan all along. She sniffed, suppressing the urge to cry, thinking of what Stephen had said.

  He only nearly kissed me because he lost his mind for a minute. Oh, God’s wounds, am I so awful?

  She embraced her brother with sudden fervor, needing to be near him. For a minute, she didn’t care about any of their arguments this past year. She just wanted to be with someone who truly cared for her.

  “Oomph! Trying to knock me over?” Allan laughed and held her close, rocking her from side to side as she buried her face in his shoulder.

  At Stephen’s rejection, she had known exactly what she felt. All these flutters in her stomach, all her addiction to his presence, she was in danger of finding that her heart belonged to him.

  Perhaps a part of it had always been his and she had never wanted to believe it, and that was why she argued with him so much.

  Meanwhile, he had never considered her in the same light—only for the briefest moment, when he had gone mad for a minute.

  “Everything well, Dorothy?” Allan whispered as he released her enough to look at her face.

  “Yes.” Dorothy nodded. “I am just glad to see you. I did as you asked, and I came, but I cannot pretend it is my favorite place in the world,” she whispered.

  “Ha! I thought it wouldn’t be but thank you for coming.” Allan wrapped his arm around her shoulder and turned her to face Stephen as they walked toward him. Dorothy kept her eyes on her brother, refusing to look at Stephen. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you did come.”

  She nodded, finding her throat constricting tightly as they moved near Stephen.

  “Allan, I didn’t know you were coming so soon.” Stephen stepped forward, his tone buoyant and holding none of the tension that had been there a few seconds ago. “I am glad you’re here at last. How did you finish with your business?”

  “It’s all done, thank God.” Allan whistled in emphasis. “Now, I am here to enjoy myself. Take me to our hosts, then. I feel somewhat behind and have been very lonely in the house without the two of you. Never did I think I would miss listening to the pair of you arguing with one another, but I stand corrected. I have missed it greatly.”

  Dorothy shot Stephen a glare. “You won’t be missing it for long. We have scarcely drawn breath between our arguments since we arrived,” she said in a low tone.

  Stephen’s expression was unreadable, his lips flattened together.

  Allan tipped his head back and laughed warmly. “I didn’t doubt it, not for a moment.” He looked at Stephen again and started as if someone had burned him with a candle. “What happened to your head?” He pointed at the rather small bandage now stuck to the side of Stephen’s temple. “You two are hitting one another now?”

  “No!” Stephen and Dorothy both said hurriedly.

  Allan laughed again. “I’m joking.” He led their path toward the house. “What did happen?”

  “It was—”

  “My fault,” Dorothy cut in, determined to be honest with her brother before Stephen could say anything more. She told Allan the story as they walked into the house. The butler took Allan’s frock coat and hat as he listened attentively.

  “She keeps trying to feed me up,” Stephen said when she reached the end of the story. He was leaning against the wall nearby. For all that he claimed about no longer feeling dizzy, she wondered if it wasn’t completely true. “Says I need my strength to recover.”

  “She requested lamb and treacle tart for you yet?” Allan asked with a laugh.

  “What?” Stephen pushed off the wall.

  “The number of times she asked our cook to prepare them when she knows you’re coming is laughable.” Allan reached for Dorothy again, and she was all too happy to take his arm and walk with him, avoiding Stephen’s gaze as much as she could. “She knows what you like, for all your arguments.”

  Dorothy bit her lip so hard, she drew blood. It was true. Since taking over the housekeeping duties from her mother, working with the housekeeper to run the house to her preferences, she had paid attention to ordering the food she knew both Allan and Stephen liked. She hadn’t wanted Stephen to know that, though.

  “Come meet everyone,” Dorothy urged, determined to change the topic.

  They drew Allan into the drawing room, where Lord and Lady Webster sat with Lord and Lady Sandmarsh.

  “Lord Padleigh. You are here at last!” Lady Webster swooped down upon him.

  Once more, Dorothy was reminded of that sparrowhawk. Lady Webster gripped Allan’s hand so tightly that Dorothy caught sight of a twitch in his cheek, betraying the wince he was attempting to hide.

  “I am so glad you could join us.”

  “As am I.” When he retrieved his hand, he shook it out at his side.

  “Come, meet everyone.” Lady Webster pulled on his arm, drawing him away.

  Dorothy inadvertently found Stephen standing beside her. Neither of them said anything, and both stood like wooden posts, staring ahead. When tea was brought into the room, Dorothy took a step forward, determined to help pour the tea.

  “You and I have not finished with our conversation, Dorothy,” Stephen whispered, bringing her to a halt.

  She glanced back at him and shook her head. “I told you once that are you not always right. This is one of those times. You made yourself quite plain, and we do not need to return to that discussion again.”

  With a sense of finality, she walked away, struggling to keep her chin level as she moved to the tea tray.

  Stephen sat alone in the garden room, his hands steepled together as he looked out over the garden. He had spotted Dorothy walking with Lady Charlotte and Lady Frederica a few minutes ago. Relieved to see she was not walking with Lord Chilmond again, he stayed seated.

  A door opened and closed, and he turned around, seeing Allan walk into the room.

  Allan sighed dramatically, leaning against the closed door. “Don’t tell Dorothy this, for she will take too much pleasure in being right, but she is onto something about gatherings such as this. They are hard to take.” He feigned a shudder as he stepped away from the door and moved toward Stephen. “Did Lady Webster grab you in much the same way?”

  “That she did. Wait until you’re on the end of one of her impenetrable withering looks.” Stephen shook his head. “She has a power all of her own. I wonder if we all just came because we were too afraid to say no to her.”

  Allan chuckled and sat down in the wicker chair beside Stephen. “Is there a reason you’re watching the ladies walk in the garden?” He nodded his head toward the garden, where only Dorothy was really visible. Lady Charlotte and Lady Frederica were half cast in shadow by the fading light of the day.

  “There is something you need to know, something I wanted to warn you about.” Stephen sighed.

  For all that he felt he had let Allan down by nearly kissing Dorothy, he had a duty to carry out now. He had to warn Allan about Lord Chilmond.

  “Dorothy has a gentleman interested in her.”

  “And? Is this bad news?” Allan pointed at his face. “You are saying it as if you have just eaten a sour lemon, indeed.”

  “I fear he does not actually care for Dorothy.” Stephen held himself still, his eyes the only thing that moved as he traced Dorothy’s movements in the garden. She had bent down to a daffodil flower, running her fingers across the yellow petals. “He sometimes smiles stiffly in her presence, as if it is a performance. You should have seen his expression when she came hunting with us. To my mind… he looked horrified.”

  Allan said nothing but sighed heavily. “You and I both know that, sadly, whoever she ends up with might not be as tolerant of her rebellious ways.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do not misunderstand me in what I am about to say, Stephen, for as you know, I loved my parents very much. The way they raised us, I will be forever grateful for. There was such freedom and happiness in it.”

  He tipped his head onto the back of the chair, looking at the ceiling as if he were trying to look at the heavens, where his parents might be now.

  “I know.”

  Stephen felt the familiar curdling in his gut. He and Allan both knew that, deep down, Stephen was jealous of that upbringing, though they didn’t need to put it into words. It was why Stephen had enjoyed so many years of escaping to Allan’s house from his own, to be with a warm and happy family, as opposed to his father’s confusing cold, distant nature.

  “Yet, there are problems with the way they raised us.” Allan shifted and gestured toward his sister through the window. “Not everyone will accept Dorothy, and I am not so much of a fool as to think she will get proposals from every quarter.”

  “Allan, forgive me, but are you blind?” Stephen’s question made Allan jerk around in his seat, an amused smile on his face.

  “What is it I am missing?”

  “Your sister has a charm all of her own. Her confidence and ease draw people in. Look at her now.” Stephen gestured to where Lady Charlotte and Lady Frederica were laughing at something Dorothy had said. “She is liked from all quarters. People are drawn to her character. And men watch her. She is beautiful.”

  “Stephen…”

  “Well, she is. I’m pointing it out matter-of-factly. She will get many offers, despite her unbidden nature, and I fear that Lord Chilmond’s advances are not trustworthy.” Stephen leveled his gaze at Allan. “I tell you this to put you on your guard. It is possible that Lord Chilmond is only pursuing her for her dowry.”

  “All right, calm yourself, my friend.” Allan reached toward him and clapped him on the shoulder comfortingly. “Then you and I shall do what we can. We shall watch over my sister over the next few weeks. We’ll be sure to watch Lord Chilmond and gauge his true motives.” He grimaced. “For all my demanding that my sister comes here, I do not want to see her married to any man who would not appreciate her either.” He sighed deeply and leaned back in the chair. “But as you once said, love is not common in marriage.”

  “No. It is not.” Stephen knew his own parents’ marriage had had little to do with love. It had been arranged between his father and grandfather.

  From what Stephen had seen, his father had had little respect for his mother. When she had died, he had stood by her grave and worn black as he should, but Stephen could not remember seeing him crying. In contrast, Stephen had cried.

  He was ten years old when his mother died. He had bawled as if he was still a baby at her graveside.

  His father that day had taken care of him. He had taken his shoulder and steered him away from her grave, even being so bold as to embrace him, something he had done rarely. By the end of the day, his father had talked repeatedly of duty, how they did not show their grief as dukes, but tucked it deep down.

  He was a confusing man.

  On the one hand, his father had offered understanding and a distant sort of love. On the other hand, he had put forward formality and duty above everything else.

  “Who is that?” Allan sat up in his seat, pointing out the window. “The lady with Dorothy.”

  “Which one?” Stephen asked with interest. “The one on the left is Lady Charlotte. The one on the right is Lady Frederica.”

  Allan didn’t answer, though he seemed to stare out the window for a minute longer before he tore his gaze away.

  “You are right, Stephen. We should take care, and we shall both watch over my sister. In the meantime, how does your hunt for a wife go?”

  Stephen thought it best not to tell Allan about the wager he and Dorothy had made. That news could wait for another day.

  “Slowly.” It was the only word he could offer as he saw Dorothy and the two ladies make their way back to the house.

  “Would you introduce me to the ladies?” Allan asked, jumping to his feet with sudden energy. “I haven’t met them yet.”

  “Of course.”

  Stephen stood, too. He thought he was done with his dizziness, but he must have been tired after all the running around he had done after Dorothy earlier in the day, for he staggered to the side.

 

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