“I don’t think he was,” Nicholas said thoughtfully. “See, look. He’s making a pile over there.”

Georgie frowned as she craned her neck. “So he is. What’s he building, a cairn?”

“Nothing so organized, I assure you. But … Watch Benedict now. He’s trying to get the rocks from Anthony’s pile—”

“Oh, that’s not going to happen,” Georgie cut in. “Anthony has six inches on him. And that boy is strong.”

“He’ll have to be sneaky,” Nicholas agreed.

They watched as Benedict charged his older brother with all the finesse of a wild boar.

Georgie chuckled. “Although brute force is always an option.”

“Always an option,” Nicholas agreed.

Anthony charged back.

“But not a wise one,” Georgie said.

“No.”

She frowned as they watched the boys go down in a tangle of limbs. “Are we concerned?”

“It does look as if it might end badly.”

“But will there be blood? That’s really all I need to know.”

Nicholas took a more assessing look. The boys were making an astonishing amount of noise, but mostly they were rolling around like wet puppies. “Not above the skin.”

She shot him a look. “What does that mean?”

“That’s all a bruise is, you know. Bleeding under the skin.”

“Huh.” She sounded vaguely intrigued. “I suppose that’s right. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Well, there you go. We call it an ecchymosis.”

“You can’t just call it a bruise?”

“Of course not. Then anyone would think they can be a doctor.”

He grinned when she batted him on the shoulder, then said, “But to answer your question the way you intended it, I don’t think there will be blood, but they may yet surprise me.”

Benedict made a sound that was not quite a shriek. But it was close. Very close.

“Would blood really be that surprising?” Georgie asked.

Anthony growled, and Nicholas began to reassess. “In what quantities?”

“Quantities that would either worry their parents or reveal me to be a bad monitor of small children.”

“Is this an either/or?”

She shoved him with her elbow.

He grinned. “Sorry, no. I don’t think so. Based upon my copious experience as a former seven-year-old boy.”

“It’s odd how you say that,” she mused, turning away from him to open the hamper.

“What do you mean?”

“‘My copious experience as a seven-year-old boy,’” she mimicked. “Such a dry tone you used there. As if you didn’t have copious experience.”

“Well, it was a long time ago.”

She shook her head and pulled out a wedge of cheese. “Frankly, I’m amazed any of you reached adulthood.”

“So am I,” he said with all honesty. “So am I. Although it must be said, it was your sister who broke two arms.”

She laughed at that, and they sat in companionable silence, taking turns breaking off chunks of cheese. “I have bread, too,” Georgie told him. She peered into the hamper. “And jam.”

“Strawberry?”

“Raspberry.”

He sniffed disdainfully. “Then I’m not interested.”

She gave him a look, then sputtered with laughter. “What does that mean?”

He grinned again, rather enjoying the feel of it on his face. “I have no idea.”

He was comfortable with her. He could make the sort of stupid comments that were only a little bit funny and made no sense. The kind one made when one didn’t have to weigh every word and worry about judgment or scorn.

That’s how it had always been with Georgie—well, except for the night before. And even that had turned out fine in the end.

There were worse fates than marrying one’s friend.

He propped himself into a more upright position, pushing slightly past her to peer into the hamper. “I’d love some jam. Whatever the flavor.”

“Bread?” she asked.

“We’re not savages.”

She raised a brow. “Speak for yourself.”

“You eat jam straight from the jar?”

“You don’t?”

He gave her a sideways glance. “Raspberry or strawberry?”

She threw a chunk of cheese at him.

He laughed and popped it in his mouth. “Fine, yes, I admit it. I’ve eaten jam straight from the jar. But I used a spoon.”

“So proper, you are. Next you’ll be telling me you’ve never drunk whiskey straight from a bottle.”

“I haven’t.”

“Oh, there’s no way,” she scoffed. “I’ve seen you and Edmund after a night out at the tavern.”

“Where we drank from mugs and glasses,” he said pointedly. “Gad, Georgie, do you know what an entire bottle of whiskey would do to a man?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never had whiskey.”

“How can that be?” he asked. It would be highly unusual for a well-bred lady such as Georgiana to drink whiskey on a regular basis, but surely somewhere along the way she’d had a sip.

Georgie started spreading jam on a slice of bread. “Well, I don’t live in Scotland, for one thing.”

“I suppose that would make it difficult. Your father doesn’t drink it?”

She shook her head. “Not that I’m aware.”

Nicholas shrugged. Whiskey was so ubiquitous in Edinburgh he’d forgotten that people didn’t drink much of it in England, especially this far south.

Georgie handed him a slice of bread and got to work preparing one for herself. “Here you go.”

“Aunt Georgie!”

They both looked up. Anthony was sidling over, one hand behind his back.

“Aunt Georgie, do you like worms?”

“I adore them!” She looked over at Nicholas. “I hate them.” And then back at the boys: “The more the better!”

Anthony conferred with his younger brother. They both looked disappointed.

“Clever girl,” Nicholas said.

“At least more clever than a seven-year-old.”

They watched as the two boys surreptitiously dropped a few worms on the ground. “Lofty goals,” Nicholas murmured.

She munched her bread and jam. “You do know how to flatter a lady.”

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat. It seemed as good an opening as any. “Speaking of which …”

She gave him an amused glance. “Speaking of flattering me?”

“No.” Good God. This was not going well and he hadn’t even started.

Her eyes turned to mischief. “So you don’t want to flatter me.”

“No. Georgie …”

“My apologies. I couldn’t resist.” She set her bread carefully down on a napkin. “What was it you needed?”

What was it he needed? He needed to go back to Edinburgh and resume his life. But instead he was here, about to propose a marriage of—he assumed—convenience.

Not his convenience.

Not hers, either. Not really. Nothing about her life had been convenient lately.