Phillip, having discovered an interest in the pianoforte, was taking music lessons in the mornings, while Georgeherself gave Danny his first lessons in reading, writing and arithmetic. The plan was for him to be caught up to Phillip by the time they would both go to school. Together, she told Hart firmly. When they were twelve or so.
After luncheon, the activities were all outdoors, making the most of the good weather. George and Hart were teaching the boys to ride—and to care for their own ponies. At first Danny had objected to having to groom and muck out his pony, thinking he was somehow being demeaned, but Hart had raised a brow and said coolly, “A gentleman cares for his animals first. There are times when a groom will care for your horse, but you must first know how to do it yourself—properly.” After that, Danny had fallen to the work with a will.
Hart had never taught anyone to ride and he was surprised how proud he felt at each boy’s progress. Phillip was careful and precise in following instructions, Danny was eager and occasionally reckless, but both boys were doing well.
And once the boys had taken possession of their puppies, they competed to have the best-trained dogs. As for Finn, he was at first dubious about the roly-poly little creatures who seemed to adore him and follow him around, but within the week he’d resigned himself to their attentions, even to letting them chew on his ears and feet and tail and clamber over his body. Until he’d had enough, and rose and with great dignity stalked away.
It was late summer. The weather was glorious, and they taught the boys to swim, the boys and Hart dressed in just their drawers, and George in drawers and a chemise. The boys were young enough not to notice how the garment clung, molding to her every slender curve, but Hart couldn’t take his eyes off her. His body reacted predictably, but with the boys present, he had no option but to stand waist deep in the cold water and think of unexciting things. And wait until evening came and he could take her to bed at last.
Some days they rode out without the boys. They would swim, and picnic, and make love in the grass. He’d nevermade love in the open before. Neither had she. But it was glorious—as long as he remembered to take a rug.
Time flew. Venice faded completely from his mind.
“They’re gaining so much confidence—have you noticed?” George said to him one afternoon as they watched the boys putting their ponies through their paces. “Phillip has been almost naughty several times.”
Hart gave her an incredulous glance. “You’re happy that he’s becoming naughty?”
“Of course. It’s healthy in a small boy. He was so painfully well-behaved and responsible before.”
Hart frowned. “You say ‘responsible and well-behaved’ as if they’re bad things.”
She grinned, understanding. “In an adult, responsibility is admirable—even necessary—but in a small child it’s... it’s unnatural. Poor little Phillip is afraid of making mistakes—even small, insignificant ones. But how can anyone learn if they don’t try things and make the occasional mistake?”
“Then I suppose you’re positively delighted with Danny,” he said sardonically.
She laughed. “Danny is making progress too. He’s not nearly so prickly and he’s really only rebellious if he’s uncertain or on edge—haven’t you noticed? But he learns from Phillip—the respect and care both boys have for each other is wonderful—and they both look up to you enormously, Danny especially. He is starting to model himself on you, you realize.”
“Model himself onme?” Hart watched the scruffy urchin urging his pony over low jumps with loud yells more suitable to a savage. He could see no evidence of any modeling. “I hardly think so.”
“It’s true,” she said tranquilly. “Both boys admire you tremendously. And they’re both making wonderful progress.” She raised her voice. “Oh, well done, Danny. Now you, Phillip.”
Hart watched her calling encouragement to the two orphaned boys. If they were making progress it was becauseof her. Both boys adored her. To them she was some magical combination of mother, sister, mentor and playfellow.
And Hart? He was purely dazzled by her.
Family life. He’d experienced nothing like it in his life. She hadn’t grown up in a family either, so how did she know how to do this? Make four very disparate people, including two very different children, happy? But somehow she did.
He’d only married to get an heir, and he’d chosen Georgiana Rutherford because the very sight of her swamped him with desire. And because she was independent and self-sufficient and wouldn’t be a drain on his time.
But she was so much more than he’d expected.
“By the way, I’ve discovered who Danny’s father is,” he told her quietly.
Her head whipped around. “Who?”
“Take a guess.” They’d speculated about it in bed often enough, but there was no proof.
“Phillip’s father?”
He nodded. “I discovered the evidence in the estate record. Lakeside Cottage was only part of one of my cousin’s minor estates. He sold it off piecemeal, a chunk at a time to pay his gambling debts, retaining only the main house by the end. I suppose it would have been the next to go if he hadn’t died. There is a note in the estate records, just over seven years ago, noting a tenant’s cottage and small farm acreage to be transferred to the use of Judith Glover and her child.”
“Danny and his mother.”
He nodded. “Of course I had no idea of this when I sent Phillip to live at Lakeside Cottage.” He glanced at the boys racing each other around the paddock, whooping and laughing. Half brothers. “A mistake that ended well, I suppose.”
He lowered his voice. “The interesting thing was the phrasing of the document. The cottage and farm were transferred ‘to the use of Judith Glover and her childfor their lifetime.’”
“But Judith’s dead. And Danny’s no longer there.”
