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are
different now."
    Roxana looked up from her gaping waistline, which was
where Max was doing everything he could to avoid looking. If the
skirt slipped low enough, might he catch a glimpse of red
petticoat? He told himself that was the only reason for his
excessive interest in Roxana's undergarments.
    "Do you know how many different breeds of sheep we
keep?" Max asked Thomas.
    "I know the shepherd brings them on the lawn Tuesday
and Friday and I cannot practice cricket those days. I will need to
be good at cricket when I get to Eton."
    "Those are two different flocks."
    "Yes, may I give my horse its head now? Julia is so
far ahead she will say she trounced me."
    "Thomas, you need to know these things. This estate
shall be yours to manage one day."
    Thomas looked at the ground. "I should very much like
to be in the Horse Guards. Papa said I could."
    Max winced. He supposed that as far as the military
went, guarding the royal residence was less dangerous than the
divisions his other brothers had chosen. "Go on, catch up to Julia.
Then wait for Miss Winston and me."
    Max turned and realized Roxana was scrutinizing him.
Heat spread outward from his center.
    "Your holdings are quite vast," she said mildly,
watching Thomas race his horse after his sister. She sounded so
unimpressed. She had not even looked while he pointed out
boundaries to Thomas. If she were angling for Max, surely she would
be interested in the extent of his estate. Perhaps her preference
was just for the friendship he offered.
    "Yes," answered Max.
    "It must take a great deal of time and effort to
manage all this, and you take your seat in Parliament, do you
not?"
    "Yes, I take all my responsibilities seriously."
    "I do not think Thomas wishes to become your man of
business. In the time I have been here, it seems to me that he much
prefers physical pursuits to the classroom."
    "Most boys do."
    "Did you?" She turned her blue eyes in his direction
and a heaviness settled in his lower half.
    She continued to watch him and he belatedly realized
she was waiting for an answer. He tried to engage the gears in his
brain box. She had asked him a question. Did he? Did he what?
"Excuse me?"
    "When you were Thomas's age, did you prefer being out
of doors to lessons?"
    A memory of his brothers racing ahead while he walked
his horse alongside his father, listening to the lectures and
answering the questions that tested his knowledge, sprang into his
mind. Being out of doors did not offer escape from lessons for him,
but being the heir to this grand estate required that he gained the
knowledge necessary to manage it. "I applied myself to learning
what was required, indoors and out."
    She tilted her head, a small smile lingering about
her delicious lips. Would she taste as sweet as she looked? He
shook his head, trying to erase the immoral urges crowding out his
rational thoughts. He could not think this way about her when he
was chaperoning her.
    He needed to survey the estate, check the cottages
and outbuildings for needed repairs, note any trees that might need
removing, observe anything out of place in his lands.
    "So shall you buy him his promised colors in the
Horse Guards?"
    "Good God, no. He is my heir."
    Roxana looked startled by his vehemence. Perhaps if
he had been concentrating on their conversation rather than the
smooth curve of her cheek, he'd have masked his reaction better. He
rolled his neck. As he forced himself to stare at the sky, he
acknowledged that the curve of her cheek wasn't what drew his
attention, but the curves below her neck.
    "Surely, he will be displaced before he is old enough
. . . to be commissioned in the army." Her voice trailed off.
    "No, Miss Winston."
    Her brows knit and her slight smile disappeared.
    Now was as good a time as any to disabuse her of any
notion she might have that he was available. "I lost two brothers
in combat. I intend for Thomas to remain my heir. When he
understands that I shall not marry, he will be glad of