Ethan: Lord of Scandals ll-3

by Grace Burrowes

  Was the gazelle nervous of the lion? “You won’t hurt me,” Alice said, believing it. He wouldn’t hurt her physically, for all his size and muscle.

  He peered down at her. “Of course I wouldn’t. I promise you that.”

  To her consternation, he dropped to the floor before her, stuffed a pillow under his knees, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “Ethan?” Alice’s hand settled on his golden hair, unable to resist touching him in such a docile pose—such a deceptively docile pose.

  “Nick and George went at it just before dinner.” Ethan laid his head in her lap, resting his cheek against her thigh. “They all but resorted to fisticuffs in the grand fraternal tradition.”

  “That would be a rousing match. Nick is nigh half a foot taller than your brother George.”

  “And carrying considerably more muscle. They were spoiling to get a piece of each other, but I couldn’t allow it.”

  “What were they arguing over?” Alice asked, stroking Ethan’s hair then feathering her fingers over his cheek, forehead, and jaw. To touch him this way was lovely; to hear his troubles and worries was lovelier still.

  “Each accused the other of behaving badly without regard to the family’s sensibilities or his own safety,” Ethan summarized, “and they were both right.”

  “Nick was a tramp,” Alice said flatly. “I hope his wife understands this about him. His ability to remain faithful to her should not be taken for granted.”

  “I know.” Ethan nuzzled at Alice’s hip. “That feels good, what you’re doing.”

  “You are tired.” He was tired and cuddled in her lap, and who would have thought him capable of such a thing?

  “I am.” He sat back, and took off his neckcloth and unfastened the collar of his shirt. “So I won’t trouble you for long.” He tucked himself against her again, and then went still, until Alice’s hands found him once more, and he let out a quiet sigh.

  “George was at university until this summer, wasn’t he?” Alice asked as she kneaded the muscles of Ethan’s neck.

  “Good Lord.” Ethan’s sigh was louder. “That feels heavenly, and yes, George has just completed his formal education. He’s agreed travel would complement his studies nicely.”

  “Travel?” Alice switched her grip with one hand and cradled Ethan’s jaw with the other. “As in, on the Continent?”

  “For now.” Ethan shifted his shoulders, wedging himself more snugly against her. “George prefers the intimate attentions of men, and this is unsafe behavior.”

  “Unsafe?” Alice knew her tone held more than a touch of dismay. “It’s considered immoral, unsanitary, and felonious.”

  “You judge him? How is it any more immoral than carousing the way Nick did, or taking to wife a woman only tolerated on the fringes of Society as I did?”

  “I understand you and your brothers haven’t been saints, Ethan, but George’s preference could get him hanged. I suppose this is why Nick wanted to use his fists.”

  “It is,” Ethan muttered, sounding drowsy. “And George was just as frustrated, because he envisioned Nick with diseases that could have taken his reason or his ability to ensure the succession, or blotting the family escutcheon with his peccadilloes.”

  “George has a valid point. I suppose both men were insisting they’d been careful, but obviously not careful enough if each knew of the other’s risks.”

  “They were able to see that.” Ethan shifted to rest his face against Alice’s other thigh. “Nick apologized, as some truly dreadful gossip devolved to George as a consequence of Nick’s behaviors, and George agreed essentially to go on reconnaissance and see if there might be some places he’d enjoy living abroad.”

  These were familial confidences. A governess did often learn of them, but not from the master of the house as he cuddled against her lap.

  “Seems a shame.” Alice let go of Ethan’s neck and brushed her hand over his hair in a slow, soothing caress. “You just meet your brother George as an adult, and he’s sent away to avoid scandal.”

  “He’s choosing to travel to avoid a grim and unnecessary death. I’d rather lose George to the charms of Paris than to death.”

  “But what a sad choice, hmm?” Alice leaned down and wrapped her arms around Ethan’s shoulders. It wasn’t a sexual embrace. Nothing they’d done since locking the door had been sexual. She breathed in the cedary scent of him and felt a desire to protect him from having to part from his brother, from any of his brothers.

  “Let me brush out your hair.” Ethan ended the embrace, remaining on his knees before her, hands on her hips. “I’ll leave you in peace then, and you can dream of me.”

  She wanted to keep touching him, to keep comforting them both by touching him. “I don’t think dreams of you will be peaceful.”

  “They’ll be pleasurable.” Ethan was up on his feet in one lithe move. “My dreams of you certainly are.”

  “Such talk.” Alice’s lips compressed rather than let a smile show.

  “Come.” Ethan tossed the pillow back on the bed and drew her to her feet. “I said I wouldn’t stay long, and I am a man of my word. I’ve been longing to see what you look like with your hair down, so stop stalling.”

  “You’ve seen it down,” Alice replied, but she let him guide her to her vanity. How dangerous could it be to let him simply brush her hair?

  “I’ve seen it coming down, and I’ve seen it in a braid. That isn’t down.”

  “It’s just hair.”

  Ethan said nothing, taking the glasses from her nose and then letting his hands rest for a moment on her shoulders. The gesture quieted her, brought her calm inside, where she still wasn’t quite settled enough from her busy day to contemplate sleep.

  “Relax, Alice.” Ethan held her shoulders. “I will merely brush out your hair and bid you good night.”

  She waited, but instead of getting down to work, Ethan’s hands massaged her shoulders, then her neck, until Alice was leaning forward, her forehead resting on the arms she’d folded on her vanity.

  If this be seduction, then let it never end.

  “Better,” Ethan murmured, and only then did Alice feel his deft fingers sliding pins from her hair. He worked with a kind of methodical rhythm, until her braid swung free, then he easily unplaited her hair, leaving it flowing down her back.

  “So pretty.” In the mirror, she watched while he brought a handful of her hair to his nose. “And this is why you smell of lemon verbena.”

  “I keep sachets with my clothing too,” Alice said as Ethan trailed her hair down her back. “It’s a perky scent, suitable for a governess.”

  “Perky.” Ethan’s lips quirked. “Tart, bracing, unexpected, with an underlying allure.” She thought, from the husky note in his voice, he might start in kissing her neck. She loved it when he kissed her neck—he’d already taught her that about herself—but he took the brush to her hair, sweeping it in long strokes that tickled her back through her nightclothes.

  “You like this,” Ethan mused as he divided her hair into three thick skeins. “Left or right?”

  Alice stifled a yawn. “I switch off. I’m right-handed, so over the right shoulder is easier.”

  “Then I’ll do you a left-handed braid.” He got it just so, not too tight, not too loose, and positioned to lie over her left shoulder. When he finished, he rested his hands again on her shoulders.

  “Thank you.” Alice could not hold back this yawn. “You have a nice touch with a brush, Ethan.”

  He smiled at her reflection in the mirror. “So nice, I’ve put you to sleep.”

  Hadn’t that been his aim? “I do feel more ready for rest now. Thank you.”

  He held her chair, and as she got to her feet, Alice felt a little frustration that he wouldn’t use their proximity to kiss her further.

  “Good night.” She met his gaze, finding his expression half-amused, half-veiled.

  “I wasn’t going to do this,” he muttered. He drew her closer and dipp
ed his head. When he settled his lips over hers, Alice snuggled in against him, relieved to be in his embrace. It was an easy, undemanding, friendly kiss, with Ethan’s mouth moving slowly over hers, his tongue lazy.

  “Good night, Alice,” Ethan said, drawing back only the half inch necessary to permit speech.

  She rose on her toes and fused her mouth to his, causing Ethan’s lips to quirk up when she went foraging with her tongue.

  He tolerated her quest for a moment, then drew back and tucked her face against his chest. “You need your sleep, and if you toy with me, I won’t answer for the consequences.”

  His words did not initially sink in, because Alice was making an investigation of the taste of his neck and throat, but the stillness in his body—and rising hardness pressing against her belly—did.

  “You are serious.”

  “I desire you mightily, Alice Portman.”

  “Alex,” she corrected him. “My real name is Alexandra, but that isn’t a governess name.”

  “Alexandra.” His hand smoothed over the back of her head. “You honor me with such a confidence. It’s important.”

  “It’s just a name.” She rested her forehead against his chest.

  “It’s just your name,” Ethan corrected gently. “Just your hair, just your trust. Yours, Alexandra.” His arms around her were gentle yet secure, and she felt the sting of tears. To hear her name, her real name, was such a gift, particularly spoken with the near reverence he gave it.

  “I’ll leave you now,” Ethan said, but he held her a moment longer. “Nick and I will ride out with George in the morning. You sleep in. The day will be trying.”

  She nodded, not wanting him to go, but slipping her arms from his waist when he kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her lips.

  “Good night, Ethan.” She smiled as he turned at the door to blow her a kiss.

  “Good night, Alex.” He smiled back, and then he was gone.

  But not before Alice caught a glimpse of Nick leaning against the wall outside the boys’ room, arms crossed over his chest, expression thunderous.

  Twelve

  “Whatever went on in Alice’s room,” Nick rumbled ominously, “it had better have been with the lady’s consent.”

  “And a pleasant good evening to you too. Are you spying on me, Nicholas?”

  “Maybe.” Nick pushed away from the wall with his back. “I came up to say good night to the boys, as their papa was supposedly doing.”

  “I said good night to them and to their governess.”

  Nick looked disgruntled, like a man who was spoiling for a fight, only to realize there was nothing to fight over. “She deserves more than a quick tumble, and you’d best not be trifling with her.”

  “I agree.” Ethan took Nick by the arm and turned him down the hallway. “This is not the place to air your concerns. Did you leave me any of Heathgate’s whiskey?”

  “We did. George is a lightweight, for all he’s newly down from school.”

  “A mere child. So explain to me, worldly earl that you are, how it is Alice deserves more than a quick tumble and not trifling with.”

  “The rules are simple, and because I played by them, and played hard for years, I will recite them for you: You may dally wherever an experienced woman consents, provided her husband has his heir and spare. If you get a single woman pregnant, you must insist on marriage. Never bother virgins, for they require inordinate care and get romantic notions. Widows are a law unto themselves.”

  Nick could have stitched his blighted rules into samplers, so sanctimonious was his tone.

  “Alice wouldn’t marry me if I were given a damned title by the Regent,” Ethan said. “And for the record, Nicholas, I merely kissed her.” And brushed her hair, and cuddled in her lap like a lonely cat, and kissed her some more, and held her, and could not wait to do more of the same.

  “So you’re taking your time. That’s good. It gives Alice time to come to her senses.”

  “And send me packing?” Ethan asked as they reached the library.

  “No.” Nick smiled a little. “She’ll have you proposing and be accepting your suit.”

  “I can’t expect that. There are certain things that can befall a man in this life which permanently reduce his expectations, particularly with respect to matrimony. Alice seems to have a similarly jaundiced view of marriage,” Ethan replied, crossing to the decanter. “More for you?”

  “Yes. I abused that whiskey earlier today. This evening, I offer it only my most sincere respect.”

  Ethan poured two drinks, handed one to Nick, then eyed the French doors.

  “It’s lovely out,” Nick said. “You can see the stars, unlike in Town, and the crickets are singing. Why don’t you think Alice would marry you?”

  “She’s been badly spooked,” Ethan replied as they found some chairs on the terrace. “Very badly spooked, though I don’t know the details. Something to do with her sister and the scandal and so on. She has her own money and works only because it affords her a badly needed excuse to remain away from the family seat.”

  “She told you all this? I’ve met some self-contained women in my time, Ethan. Alice takes first honors in that category. Reese Belmont lived with her for years and never knew she had siblings.”

  “I am not Reese Belmont. In any case, I think Alice is a governess because she adores children but believes she won’t have any of her own.” And why it had become necessary to share that insight was a mystery as imponderable as the stars.

  “Sad. The people who have children are not necessarily the people who deserve them.”

  “So I’ve thought.” Ethan sipped his drink, trying to ignore the way Nick peered at him in the dim lighting.

  “You’re thinking of your late wife and possibly your dear self.”

  “Oh, possibly.” Ethan took another sip. “This really is a fine whiskey.”

  “I’m not letting you change the subject this time, Ethan. If Alice were willing, would you marry her?”

  “She isn’t willing,” Ethan reminded Nick, and himself. “But if she were—the boys love her already, I can barely keep my hands to myself… I wouldn’t deserve a lady like her.” And there was the irrefutable, bedrock truth. He would never deserve a woman like her.

  “She’s a governess,” Nick scoffed. “Maybe by choice, but she’s a governess, Ethan. What’s not to deserve?”

  “She’s a lady, Nicholas. In every sense of the word, she’s a lady, and in every sense of the word, I am a bastard. Is there any more of that whiskey?”

  He handed Ethan the rest of his drink. “I miss my Leah.”

  “A good woman is always worth missing.” Ethan took a sip and passed the drink back to Nick. “A good woman misses you too.”

  “I miss her more,” Nick grumbled, taking his sip and returning the drink.

  “Of course you do.” Ethan accepted the glass. “But if you take your lonely little self up to bed, you might see her in your dreams, and when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll be that much closer to holding her in your loving arms.”

  “You are sending me to bed before I embarrass myself with maudlin behavior.” Nick rose, accepting the last swallow of the whiskey.

  “Or I do.” Ethan remained seated. “Sweet dreams, your lordship, you’ve had a trying day. But, Nick?”

  “Lordship me again, and I will have to thrash you, and then Alice will thrash me, aided by your offspring.”

  “You’re doing well,” Ethan said, staring off across the dark gardens. “With our siblings, with me, ditching Papa’s weaselly jackals—with the earldom—you’re off to a fine start.”

  “Blather.” Nick bent to kiss his brother’s cheek. “Utter, senile, meaningless blather.”

  Ethan waited until Nick’s footsteps had retreated into the house before murmuring to the night air, “Love you too. Always have.”

  * * *

  Alice arrived to Lord Greymoor’s property as part of a veritable entourage. Ethan, Nick, and the boys
were mounted, as was she, followed by Davey and a groom on horseback as well. The coach had been sent ahead, with changes of clothing for Alice and both boys, several baskets of ripe peaches, a hamper of the requisite enormous muffins, a wheel of Danish cheese, a pall-mall set, and a bottle of peach cordial for the lady of the house.

  “It’s a good thing you’re riding,” Ethan said as they emerged from the bridle path. “There’s hardly room in the coach for a grown person.”

  “I didn’t know you imported cheese,” Nicholas said from Alice’s other side.

  “Import and export. English cheddar is among the best cheese there is,” Ethan said. “You are not to gallop up the drive, Joshua Nicholas Grey. Nor you either, Jeremiah.”

  Nick looked pleased. “You gave him my name?”

  “I gave them both your name. Alice, we’re off Tydings property. Is Waltzer behaving?”

  “He’s a perfect gentleman. Just like my smallest escorts.”

  Nick frowned at his mare’s mane. “I’m behaving. She must be unhappy with you, Ethan.”

  “Hush, Brother. We’re about to make our grand entrance. Will I do?”

  “Will you do?” Nick snorted. “I have a bet with Miller that Lady Greymoor has invited at least a half-dozen eligible young ladies to inspect the widowed and wealthy Mr. Grey. You could have eight little boys, a hunchback, and a squint, and they’d be delighted to make your acquaintance.”

  “You’re jaded, Nicholas.” Alice offered this reproof because Ethan was sitting noticeably straighter on his horse. “You narrowly escaped a Society marriage, so you can’t see simple neighborliness for what it is, and any young lady would be delighted to make Ethan’s acquaintance.” Every young lady with any sense, in fact, a thought which dimmed an otherwise beautiful summer day.

  “Hah.” Ethan smirked at Nick, but Nick got even by assisting Alice from her horse and leaving his hands just an instant too long on her waist.

  “Behave, Nicholas,” Alice said, “or I will tell the boys you want to spend the entire afternoon with them.” Nick’s hands dropped as if burned, but he was saved from a reply by the arrival in the stable yard of Lord Greymoor and a pretty, petite blonde.