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then I'll ride with you to Ramsgate."

"You want to escort me?" she said, laughing with obvious disbelief.

He wanted to groan at his own stupidity. As if Cecil would ever think about such a thing.

And he noticed Miss Shelby's attention on him once again. Damn.

He grinned and patted Renee's horse on the neck as it nosed him. "Ah, Renee, you make a man want to protect you."

She laughed merrily and put him at ease.

"Cecil, just help me to mount. I'm hardly far from home."

She was still laughing and shaking her head when she wheeled her horse away from them. "Remember to come for tea on Sunday, Miss Shelby!"

"I will!" the governess called.

For a moment, Miss Shelby didn't hide herself behind a governess's stern expression. He watched the smile that warmed her face, made her eyes as carefree as a cloudless summer day. She was younger than he imagined; he saw that at once.

And she was so beautiful that it made him ache.

He had to stop this romantic nonsense. He had one mission here, nothing more. And then it was back to his life in Manchester.

He hefted Stephen into the saddle and led the horse down through the tall grass, walking at Miss Shelby's side. They were quiet for several minutes, and he glanced over his shoulder to see that the boy's head was drooping toward his chest, and his eyes blinked heavily.

Meaning only to alert Miss Shelby to Stephen's behavior, he touched her arm.

And she jumped as if he'd sprung from a hiding place to scare her.

He wanted to apologize, but had to resort to Cecil's grin instead.

Her face flushed red. "Yes, Your Grace?"

He nodded toward Stephen, whose head bobbed with the rhythm of the horse.

Her expression softened. "He's had a tiring day. Do you think he'll fall off?"

He wanted to say that he'd watch over Stephen— but then he remembered who he was supposed to be. "Just wanted you to keep an eye on him."

The warmth in her eyes cooled. "Of course, Your Grace."

He hated feeling like a cad— but that was Cecil. And he sensed that it was best to keep Cecil between the governess and him like a barrier.

"Your Grace," she said, "there are several things I'd like to discuss with you about Stephen. Might I make an appointment to meet with you?"

"Talk with my secretary," he said with forced indifference. "I'm sure there's an hour somewhere in my schedule."

She damn well knew he had the time, and that he was putting her off as if he didn't care about his son.

Not his son— Cecil's.
    * * *
    The next morning, Stephen and his nurse went to play with his shuttlecock outside, leaving Meriel a free hour for her scheduled meeting with the duke. She went down to his study, but of course he was not there. He was almost fifteen minutes late, and even then he looked surprised to find her waiting for him. There was a frozen moment between them, when she realized that she simply enjoyed looking at him, regardless of his flaws. She was so disappointed with herself.

He stared at her, and his two wolfhounds stood on either side of him, the height of his waist, and stared as well. She didn't get a menacing feeling from the dogs, but they were as large as colts, and therefore intimidating.

"Ah, Miss Shelby," he said.

He started around his desk, then seemed to think better of it and sat in a more comfortable chair near the hearth. The dogs gave him a questioning look.

"Victoria, Albert, lie down."

The dogs merely wagged their long tails, but did not obey him.

Meriel covered her mouth and pretended to cough, or she would have laughed aloud. Until the duke's arrival, the dogs had usually remained at the kennels, and she had never heard anyone speak their names. "You named your dogs after our queen and her husband?"

He shrugged and waved a hand indolently. "The irony appealed to me. And as you can see, they listen to me as well as the queen does."

He repeated the command, pointing to the floor, and both great dogs reluctantly lay down. Then the duke lolled his head back in the chair and looked