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heart?”
    Mr. Dolan let out a bark of laughter. “He’ll have to wedge past his marchioness to accomplish that, and he’s too besotted to manage such a thing. The woman rides like a demon, you see, and Georgina has been pestering me for a pony since she could gallop across the playroom. Her mother loved to ride.”
    The last observation was offered contemplatively, as if being around Lord Deene stirred a bereavement Mr. Dolan hadn’t anticipated.
    â€œAre you missing your late wife, sir?”
    He paused with her on the steps of the back terrace. “I miss her every day, of course, though the first time I realized I’d gone a day without thinking of her specifically, I wondered if…” His gave traveled over the back gardens, which were sporting their full, colorful summer glory. “I did not come out here to discuss my status as a widower, not directly in any case.”
    A retreat from such a painful topic ought to be allowed, though Amy couldn’t help but think of how he might have finished the sentence.
    â€œWhen I began to get over the loss of my parents, I wondered if letting them go wasn’t somehow disloyal.”
    He walked along beside her in silence for a few moments, past bobbing daisies, on to fragrant red roses. “Just so, but then you recall the departed bestirring themselves in their last hours to admonish you sternly to be happy, to love again, and it is that topic I wished to broach with you.”
    Mr. Dolan spoke in such calm, reasonable tones that the content of his comments took a moment to sort itself out in Amy’s mind.
    He wanted to speak to her of love ?
    â€œAbout Lord Deene, sir. You must not worry that he could ever replace you in Georgina’s affections. You are her papa, her only parent, and she adores you.”
    â€œShe adored me the day I got her that dam—that dratted dog. When I insist she learn French and refuse her a pony in Town, she is not at all convinced of my value. I suspect she is in want of a mother. Shall we sit?”
    Amy liked very much that Mr. Dolan’s view of his daughter was unsentimental, but she liked even more that he loved the child as fiercely as he did. She took her seat beside him and made no objection when he rested an arm along the back of the bench.
    His arm wasn’t around her, exactly, but when she sat back, she could pretend Mr. Dolan’s posture was one of affection.
    â€œWhat exactly are we out here to discuss, Mr. Dolan?”
    â€œThey are lovely gardens, are they not?”
    The roses were in quite good form, including some heavily scented damask beds a few yards away. Pansies enjoyed a shady corner, and beyond those, poppies grew, and something tall and purple—foxglove?
    â€œWhitley’s gardens are much like these. A treat for the nose, the eyes, and the soul.” She’d spent enough summers with Georgina at the Dolan country property to recall every corner of the expansive gardens. “Will we go there this summer?”
    â€œVery possibly, though I will procure a pony first if I treasure my daughter’s happiness, which I do. But let me tell you now, Miss Ingraham, while we have some privacy, that I am feeling very much betrayed by your recent attempts to instruct me.”
    Amy left off staring at the flowers to risk a glance at Mr. Dolan. For all he was fatigued, he didn’t seem angry, nor was his tone irritated.
    â€œIn what regard have I betrayed you, sir?”
    â€œBehold, my late wife’s brother, the young and handsome marquess. A gentleman by birth, breeding, and behavior. He came to the front door of his own home to admit us, Amy Ingraham, and you did not scold him for the oversight.”
    â€œOf course, I didn’t. The man’s a marquess, and his wife—”
    Mr. Dolan stopped her words with a finger to her lips and a shake of his head. “He was in riding attire, my dear. You showed not the least sign of