“What you did back there,” he continued, surprised by his own directness, “the way you handled the situation, cared for that child, comforted his mother… it came naturally to you. You didn’t hesitate, didn’t worry about propriety or appearance. You simply saw a need and filled it. You were born for this role.”
The praise seemed to stun her into silence, and Ewan felt something shift between them, something warmer and infinitely more dangerous than mere physical attraction. For a moment,he glimpsed the woman beneath the careful composure, and what he saw there made his chest tighten with an emotion he wasn’t prepared to name.
“There’s something else we need to discuss,” he continued, forcing himself to focus on practical matters before the growing intimacy between them could overwhelm his good sense. “We’ll be returning to London within the week.”
“London?” Her voice held a note of surprise, and perhaps disappointment.
“Percy requires more guidance than I initially anticipated,” he explained, noting the way her expression changed. “His behavior at recent social gatherings has been… memorable, and not always in positive ways. I need to take a more direct hand in his education before he creates any lasting scandals.”
He paused, then added more gently, “And you’ll be able to see your sister more frequently. I know you’ve missed her.”
Her face brightened immediately at the mention of Jane. “Yes,” she said, nodding eagerly. “Yes, that would be… very welcome indeed.”
“I thought you might feel that way.”
The remainder of the journey passed in charged silence, yet Ewan was acutely aware of her presence, of the growing complexity of their relationship.
He found himself stealing glances at her, noting the way the afternoon light caught the copper highlights in her hair, the elegant line of her neck, the way her hands rested gracefully in her lap.
You were born to be a duchess. His own words echoed in his mind, and he realized with startling clarity that they were absolutely true.
More than that, she was born to behisduchess. The thought should have terrified him; instead, it filled him with a possessive satisfaction that he wasn’t entirely comfortable examining.
London proved to be as chaotic as Ewan had feared, particularly where Percy was concerned.
Within hours of their arrival at the London townhouse, he found himself dealing with yet another of his nephew’s well-intentioned disasters.
“Good God, what has he done now?” Ewan muttered, striding into the foyer to find his butler, Hendricks, wearing an expression of barely contained exasperation mixed with what might have been amusement.
“Lord Stonehall has… entertained several callers this morning, Your Grace,” Hendricks reported carefully. “I believe he wasattempting to practice his conversational skills in preparation for tonight’s soirée.”
Ewan closed his eyes, already dreading the answer to his next question. “How many callers, exactly?”
“Seven, Your Grace. Including Lord Pemberton, the Earl of Blackwood, Viscount Hartley, and Lord Ashford. They seemed… bemused by Lord Stonehall’s approach to social discourse.”
“Christ,” Ewan swore under his breath. “Please tell me he didn’t compose poetry for them.”
“Not exactly, Your Grace. Though there was mention of ‘the divine music of masculine fellowship’ and several comparisons to figures from Greek mythology.”
“Where is he now?”
“In the library, Your Grace, composing what he described as ‘an ode to social triumph.’ He seemed quite pleased with the morning’s interactions.”
Within the hour, Ewan had collected both Percy and Ralph, practically dragging them to White’s for what he grimly termed a “training session” in proper social behavior.
“Now listen carefully,” Ewan began, settling into a leather chair in a quiet corner of the club while Percy fidgeted nervously across from him. “When conversing with senior members of theton,you do not—underanycircumstances—compare them to mythological figures.”
“But Uncle,” Percy protested, his eyes bright with enthusiasm, “Lord Pemberton does rather resemble Zeus with that magnificent white beard and his thunderous voice. Surely acknowledging such noble bearing is a compliment?”
Ralph snorted into his brandy, earning a sharp look from Ewan.
“Did you actually tell him that?” His friend asked, grinning widely.
“I may have mentioned his godlike bearing and the wisdom reflected in his countenance,” Percy admitted somewhat sheepishly. “He seemed quite pleased, actually. He patted my shoulder and called mean interesting young man.”
“That’s because he thought you were drunk or mad,” Ewan said through gritted teeth. “What else?”
“Well,” Percy continued, warming to his theme, “I thought Lord Blackwood might appreciate being compared to Adonis, given the noble strength evident in his physicality?—”
