Alec spent the morning and part of the afternoon in his study working on estate business. He’d just dismissed his steward when there was a knock on the door. His mother entered and took a seat in front of Alec’s massive mahogany desk.

“Well?” He leaned back in his chair. “What are your initial impressions of our guests?”

“Miss Somerset looks very much like her mother,” the dowager said.

“Yes. She mentioned there is a strong family resemblance. What was her mother like?”

“She was a diamond of the first water, of course, labeled an Incomparable less than two weeks into her season. She also had some of the noblest blood in England running through her veins, being a Chase. That’s why your father wanted to marry her, of course. He began courting her as soon as she was out.”

Alec began to wish he’d poured himself a glass of whiskey.

That sounded just like his father. He’d always insisted on the best of everything, and believed without question he was entitled to it. Alec looked at his mother and his face softened a little. Even when his father had the best in his hand, he’d not appreciated it.

“To be truthful,” she said, “I always thought Millicent Somerset rather intriguing.”

Intriguing. Bloody hell. He was beginning to suspect that was a family trait, too. “Interesting choice of word. Go on.”

His mother lifted one elegant shoulder in a shrug. “Millicent and I were friends after a fashion. But we were rivals, too, and young ladies of the ton who are competing for social supremacy aren’t encouraged to be intimate. Her family was certainly unimaginative enough, but she was not much like the rest of the Chases.”

“Yes, I think that’s a safe conclusion.” Alec crossed over to a crystal decanter on a side table and poured a finger of whiskey into a glass.

The countess paused. “She was brave,” she said unexpectedly.

Alec lowered his glass from his lips and studied his mother. “Brave?”

Lady Carlisle looked up into her son’s dark eyes. “Of course, Alec. She was exceptionally so. You must see what she did took tremendous courage.”

Alec took a swallow of whiskey. “I can see what she did was tremendously foolish.” His tone was harsh.

“Perhaps,” his mother replied, as though considering it. “Her family certainly thought so. The ton did, as well, though a few of her friends stood by her, the Countess of Donegall, for one.”

“What, the Irish countess?”

“She married an Irish earl, but she’s English—the Earl of Dunclare’s daughter, formerly Lady Caroline Swan. She helped Millicent escape that night. The ton shunned Caroline for her part in the debacle. We all believed her ruined, but Donegall married her before the end of the season. By all accounts, he dotes on her still.”

Alec gave his mother a bland smile. “A happy ending for all, it seems. Do you think Millicent Chase was foolish?”

His mother gave another shrug. “I think it hardly matters now. This all happened years ago. Millicent is dead. What difference does it make if she was brave, or foolish, or both?”

Alec had been staring out the row of French doors that opened into the gardens, but now he turned and faced his mother. “Charlotte and Eleanor tell me Robyn is enamored of Miss Somerset. It was his idea to invite her here. He teased the girls into it.”

Lady Carlisle paused for a moment, her eyes fixed on him. Then she nodded. “Ah. I see. You object to Miss Somerset’s presence here on Robyn’s account?”

“Yes, I do.”

The countess folded her hands in her lap. Alec had the distinct impression she was going to choose her words with care. “You are concerned because she has no fortune? Or because of the scandal?”

Alec frowned. “The scandal. The lack of fortune isn’t desirable, but it could be overlooked.”

“The scandal is decades old, Alec,” his mother said. “Certainly a marriage between our family and the Somerset family would revive it, but is this a reason to prevent a match if there is true affection between them?”

Alec was struck dumb for a moment. Was there true affection between them? He hadn’t even considered that possibility. He’d assumed this was just another one of Robyn’s scandals. When had he stopped taking Robyn’s feelings into account? He felt a pang of conscience at the thought, but he shoved it back down. His one concern here was to protect the family and the Sutherland name.

“Have you forgotten what it was like, Mother?” he asked softly.

Catherine stiffened.

She hadn’t forgotten, and neither had he. They couldn’t forget those last few years before his father’s death, when the family had been on the brink of ruin.

The girls hadn’t understood what was happening, and Robyn had been away at school for most of it, but Alec remembered every single awful moment. Constant threats from creditors. His father hiding in his study with a bottle of whiskey at his elbow, snarling at the servants he was “not at home” to the business associates who called, day after day, demanding to speak to him. There had even been talk of selling Bellwood.

His mother’s “friends” had anticipated her downfall with delight. On the surface the countess had maintained her placid calm, but the ordeal had drained her. Alec had seen the effort it took for her to hold her head up amid the gossip and the whispers. Robyn, Charlotte, and Eleanor would have been required to make the same effort had they been ruined. The family had been drowning in debt, the Sutherland name was fodder for the worst kind of gossip, and his mother had been on the brink of collapse.

Alec had been helpless to prevent any of it.

Then his father died. Alec would call his death fateful, but it was nothing as romantic as that. Alec wanted to believe that before death came some sort of understanding, but his father had died very much as he’d lived. Selfishly. Hart Sutherland had drowned himself in whiskey, and left his wife and elder son to pick up the pieces.

Alec had picked them up. Shilling by shilling. Pound by pound. Through sheer force of will and iron determination he’d rebuilt the Sutherland fortune. As was usual with the ton, once the fortune was secure, the Sutherland name was promptly resurrected.

He wasn’t helpless now. He was the Earl of Carlisle, and he would be damned if a mere three years later he’d allow this family to suffer again. His sisters were now at marriageable ages. Their prospects would be damaged by another scandal. Delia Somerset might be brave and intriguing, but she was a scandal waiting to happen. She was disgrace. Disgrace with a beautiful face this time, but disgrace nonetheless. And Robyn—well, he might think he knew what he wanted, but Robyn and Delia Somerset came from different worlds. A marriage between them would lead to nothing but regret and misery.

His mother sighed. “Does Robyn have serious intentions toward Miss Somerset?”

Alec shrugged. “I haven’t the vaguest idea. Robyn doesn’t confide in me.”

“No, he doesn’t. Not anymore.”

A hollow feeling filled Alec’s chest at her words, but he let them pass. “The more pressing question is whether Robyn will do whatever is necessary to secure her if he is serious.”

He stared hard at his mother.

She went still. “You don’t mean …”

“That if he truly wants her and I object to the match, he’ll seduce her?” Alec shook his head. “As recently as a year ago I would have said there was no chance. That Robyn would never do anything so cruel or dishonorable. But now? I’m not sure. I don’t know Robyn anymore.”

There was such profound sadness buried in those last few words, and his mother must have heard it, for her face softened as she looked at her elder son. But she didn’t reply. They fell into a deep silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, she roused herself. “What do you intend to do?” She searched Alec’s face.

“Keep them apart as much as possible until the end of the house party, then send Miss Somerset right back to Surrey,” Alec said. “It won’t take long for Robyn to move on to some other diversion once she’s out of his way.”

Lady Carlisle shook her head. “You can’t mean you intend to trail after Robyn for the next two weeks? You’ll both go mad.”

“Not Robyn. Miss Somerset. The girl has barely been out of Surrey. She’s never been to a house party like this one, and she’s not accustomed to the attentions of gentlemen. A little charm and some harmless flirtation will keep her out of Robyn’s way.”

He didn’t mention to his mother that so far Miss Somerset appeared to find him as charming as a steaming pile of horse dung. Or that he was far more distracted by her than she appeared to be by him. Or that even the thought of matching wits with her made his groin tighten.

But Lady Carlisle was frowning nonetheless. “I don’t like it, Alec. What about Lady Lisette? You’ve invited her to the house party, and it’s my understanding you intend to propose to her by the end of it. She’s accustomed to being the center of attention. I doubt she’ll be happy to share yours with Miss Somerset. No.” She shook her head. “It’s best if you don’t interfere with Robyn’s business. You can’t expect to control every …”

Her voice trailed off as something outside the window caught her eye. Alec turned toward the French doors to see what had distracted her, and froze.

Robyn and Miss Somerset were walking together in the garden. One of her hands was tucked cozily into his arm; the other swung a bonnet by the strings. She was laughing up at Robyn, and he was gazing down at her with frank admiration, his lips quirked in a smile.

One afternoon. Alec had spent one short afternoon in his study, and already Robyn looked like a bear with his leg caught in a trap. Alec fixed his gaze on Miss Somerset’s laughing pink lips and felt his face harden into a cold, stiff mask. He’d expected to find them together. It wasn’t a shock.

The shock was that he was so furious about it.

The countess cleared her throat and Alec turned to her in surprise. He’d forgotten she was there. She wasn’t looking out the window anymore. She was looking at him, a strange expression on her face. “I’ll leave you to it, then, Alec.” She slipped out the door, leaving it open behind her.

What the blazes should he do now? He couldn’t just tear across the garden and physically separate them, though every one of his instincts urged him to do something savage, like grab Miss Somerset, throw her over his shoulder, and run off with her. Straight back to Surrey, of course.

No, this situation called for something more subtle. But what?

Just then Alec heard a shuffling noise in the hallway and turned in time to see Lord Shepherdson attempting to mount the stairs.

“Shepherdson!” Alec called, struck with a sudden inspiration. “A word?”

Shepherdson turned, baffled to be summoned by Alec, who did his best to ignore Shepherdson entirely. He shuffled through the door. “Afternoon, Carlisle.” He eyed Alec with suspicion.

“Robyn tells me you and he had quite a time of it last night,” Alec began, resisting the urge to take a step backward. Shepherdson still reeked of spirits. He probably hadn’t been to bed at all yet.

“Damn right. Bloody good time, too,” Shepherdson slurred.

“I’m sure. Still, fifty pounds is a lot of money. I’m happy to see you so reconciled to your loss.”

“Damn right it’s a lot of money,” Shepherdson agreed happily. A few seconds passed while he struggled to process the rest of that sentence, but then his face darkened. “What loss?”

Alec pretended to look surprised. “Why, the fifty pounds you lost. Robyn told me you bet him fifty pounds he couldn’t best you in a race from the Prickly Thistle back to Bellwood. You lost. You owe Robyn fifty pounds. He says you’re cleaned out.”

Shepherdson gaped at him. “The devil you say!”

Alec shrugged as if he couldn’t care less. “Ask him yourself.”

“Damn right I will!” Shepherdson swayed a bit on his feet. “Have you seen him?”

Alec rolled his eyes. Shepherdson was about as bright as a snuffed candle. “Why, yes, Shepherdson, I have. In fact, he’s right outside there.” Alec pointed in the direction of the garden.

Shepherdson was able to focus just long enough to spot Robyn through the French doors. “Damn right he is!” he squawked, starting forward.

Alec could pinpoint the exact moment when Shepherdson noticed Miss Somerset. “I say, Carlisle.” He elbowed Alec in the ribs. “Who’s the tempting armful with Sutherland? Damn fine-looking girl.”

Alec just managed to restrain himself from hauling that elbow up behind Shepherdson’s back and throwing him out the doors himself. He smiled coldly. “Better hurry, Shepherdson. It looks like they’re leaving.”

Shepherdson lurched through the French doors. “Sutherland!” he bellowed.

Alec followed him. Miss Somerset looked appalled when she saw Shepherdson barreling toward them, and she immediately dropped Robyn’s arm. Robyn looked disgusted, but he bowed to Miss Somerset and hurried off to intercept Shepherdson before he was forced to make introductions. Miss Somerset was left standing awkwardly in the garden alone, looking as if she didn’t know quite what to do next.

Alec felt an unexpected thrill shoot through him. “Alone again?” he asked, joining her. “Why is it I always seem to find you wandering around by yourself?”

“I was just wondering the same thing. Why do you always seem to find me?”

Her tone was civil enough, but she couldn’t quite disguise the quick spark of temper in her deep blue eyes. Alec realized with surprise he’d been waiting for that spark. Anticipating it.

“I didn’t find you yesterday,” he reminded her softly. “You found me.”

Ah, there it was. That blush. Alec watched it tint her neck with pink and then steal into her cheeks, and his mouth went dry.

“So I did.” She met his eyes and held them.

There was something different about her. The hectic color blooming in her cheeks wasn’t simply embarrassment, and her chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled to suppress some strong emotion. She seemed excited, or angry. She still wasn’t flirting with him. Not really. But her whole attention was fixed on him, as if she were studying his every move, assessing his every breath. It was far better than flirtation. It was almost as if she were touching him, or as if he were being consumed by that intense blue gaze. Les yeux des feu bleu didn’t seem so ridiculous to Alec now. The gaze that turned a man to stone.

Alec felt like he was turning to fire.

“You’ll allow me to escort you through the rose garden.” It wasn’t a question, but not quite a demand, either. He held out his hand to her.

She didn’t take it. She offered him a half smile instead. “In your case, my lord, the escort may prove riskier than the solitary wandering.”

His eyes dropped to her mouth. That smile was a tease. A torment. He waited, both fascinated and inexplicably angry at the same time. She was going to deny him the other half of that smile. Maybe she was saving all of her smiles and laughter for Robyn.

“Come, Miss Somerset,” he said, dragging his eyes away from her lips. “Don’t you like roses?”

She shrugged. “Every lady likes roses, don’t they, Lord Carlisle?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what every lady likes. At the moment I’m only concerned with what pleases you, and you are not every lady.”

The blue eyes narrowed. “No, but then, one lady is very much like another. We’re all rather interchangeable, are we not, my lord?”

She was daring him. Was that what was different about her? He wasn’t sure, but the look in her eyes made Alec’s breath stop in his chest. He didn’t know what she expected him to do or say, but the dare hung between them like a glove slapped across his cheek.

“No,” he answered at last, opting for the truth. He had to make an effort to keep his voice steady, when every single cell in his body leapt to rise to her challenge. “They’re not. Both ladies and roses come in infinite varieties.”

Her eyes widened a bit skeptically at this comment, but the smile that had been banished to one corner of her mouth broke free at last and took full possession of her face. The deep pink lips curved upward. She’d never truly smiled at him before. Not with her mouth and her eyes, as she was now. No. He would have remembered the way his stomach tightened in response.

She accepted his hand then. His fingers closed gently around the tips of hers. “I think, my lord, that you enjoy a wider variety of ladies than most gentlemen of my acquaintance.”

Alec gazed at her in amazement. Now the cheeky little chit was teasing him? It was the last thing he’d expected her to say, and he was startled into a sudden laugh. “Now the word enjoy—” he began, leading her back through the French doors and into the garden.

“I’m rather surprised to find the estate has formal gardens at all,” Miss Somerset interrupted quickly, as if she regretted her teasing and was now determined to keep him from teasing back. “The grounds leading down to the lake are in the natural style.”

They were to discuss landscape gardening now, were they? That was safe enough. Much safer than discussing ladies and roses, and the many different ways one night enjoy both. Now, that was a topic that could easily be nudged into more titillating territory.

Alec glanced down at her walking beside him. Her head came nearly to his shoulder. If he pulled her close, it would fit under his chin. The sun caressed the golden brown strands and he thought, absurdly, of warm honey.

She was looking up at him expectantly, waiting for his answer. “I had the formal gardens rebuilt last year.” He tried to focus on her conversation instead of the wisps of hair that brushed against her neck or the feel of her fingers resting against his arm. “My father had them torn out when I was young, when Brown’s designs were in favor.”

“Was your father a man who admired the natural landscape?”

Alec stiffened. He hated talking about his father. “My father was a man who believed he deserved the best of everything. Getting it was what concerned him. I don’t believe admiration ever came into it. I doubt he ever considered whether he admired the landscape or not.”

He was astonished to hear these words leave his mouth. Christ. He’d imagined they would make some predictable comments about the beauty of the roses or the fineness of the weather, but instead he’d blurted out that ugly truth as if they were in a confessional, and not a bloody rose garden.

He half expected to find her gaping at him in dismay, but instead she was considering his answer. “And you, my lord?” she asked after a moment. “Did you reinstate the gardens because you admire the formal lines, or because Repton’s designs are now the fashion?”

Alec raised one dark eyebrow. He couldn’t recall ever being asked to explain himself before, particularly not by a young woman he hardly knew, who was so far beneath his notice. She should be attempting to charm him. At the very least she could pretend to show some of the usual modest confusion he expected when he flattered a woman with his attentions. He was a bloody earl, for God’s sake, and she was … nobody.

But her question was an intriguing one, and worthy of an honest answer. “Are you asking, Miss Somerset, if, like my father, I follow the fashion without any thought or understanding of my own desires?”

She darted a quick glance at him from under cover of her thick lashes. “Yes. I suppose I am.”

Her glance was not so quick that Alec couldn’t see the spark of challenge was back in the blue depths of her eyes. He stared at her, mesmerized again by the flash of spirit he saw there. She was goading him, but carefully, in the same way one might try to ride a horse that threatened to throw them at any moment.

She was right to be cautious. She was insignificant, his social inferior. As a guest in his house, she was also under his sole protection. One might even say she was at his mercy. Alec was half-ashamed of the desire that shot through him at the thought.

Yet she was toying with him. Why?

He didn’t realize he’d stopped walking. He took hold of her upper arm and turned her to face him, but resisted the urge to tip her chin up with his finger so she couldn’t look away from him. “I’m nothing like my father, Miss Somerset. If I admire something, I know why I admire it. If I desire something, I know why I desire it, and I have it.”

He felt a slight tremor pass through her slim frame, but she continued to hold his eyes. For a brief, charged moment the rose garden, the sky, and even the sun faded away until he was conscious only of his hand, wrapped around her arm, the closeness of her body, her eyes searching his face.

At last she nodded, as if he’d told her what she’d expected to hear. “Never mind the consequences?” Her voice was so soft he had to lean forward to catch her words. “That’s just what I thought you’d say, Lord Carlisle.”