“You shield him from the facts you deem too upsetting. It’s not much different.”

She bristled at the criticism. Alex had been acquainted with her brother less than a month, and already he presumed to know what was best for him? Teddy was her responsibility. “Why should he have to bear the burden when I’m capable of managing—”

“You are capable, sweetheart. More than capable. But you don’t have to bear it. That’s the whole point. Your brother is nearly one and twenty. A man, not a boy. He wants the burden of it. Shouldering it would do him a world of good.”

Sweetheart.

The unexpected endearment completely derailed her train of thought.

“Alex…” She exhaled a frustrated breath. “I’m never going to be one of those ladies who permit gentlemen to take charge of every little thing. I need to keep control. Otherwise I feel as if…as if I’m drowning.”

“You are drowning. The responsibilities you’ve taken on are suffocating you. What use will you be to your family if you make yourself ill with worry over them?”

She opened her mouth to object, only to clamp it shut again. He was right, drat him. Though she couldn’t admit it to him, she must at least admit it to herself.

It was a bitter tonic to swallow.

“Let your brother take the reins awhile,” he said. “A month or two at the most. Just until we return. He may surprise you.”

Her heartbeat quickened. “Return from where?”

“Grasse. That’s where the distillery is, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but…” She could think of no good excuse. Even if she could, she had the feeling he’d counter it as deftly as he’d countered all her other arguments.

“I’ll take you there. And to Paris. It can be a honeymoon, of sorts.”

“A real honeymoon?”

“If that’s what you truly want.”

She did want it, most desperately. Romance, adventure, and the thrill of falling in love. She wanted it all.

And she wanted it with him.

It felt very much like taking a step across a deep chasm. An unknown path that could either lead to somewhere wonderful, or plummet her straight down into the abyss.

She moistened her lips. “I thought that tonight…”

“I thought the same.” He shot a frowning glance at the thin walls of her bedroom. The sounds of Aunt Charlotte bustling about next door were as loud as if she was in the room with them. “But this is never going to serve. Not for a proper wedding night.”

“I don’t understand. Aren’t you going to—”

“Sleep with you, here in your childhood bedroom? With your ruffled bed hangings and porcelain dog figurines? I’d feel like some vile despoiler of innocence.”

Her blush deepened.