“But Miss Fanshawe, he is here! Mr. Musgrave, I mean. He arrived in time to take luncheon with us.”

“The solicitor?”

“Yes, he and Papa went into his study a little while ago.”

A knell of alarm struck Natalie’s breast. While she’d been mooning over Hadrian, the moment she’d dreaded had finally arrived.

“I must go.” Smoothing her hair, she regretted having worn this old cinnamon muslin gown instead of her best plum silk. But there was no time to waste in refurbishing her appearance. “Will you stay here with Leo until the nursery maid returns?”

“Certainly. I ran up here when I saw the duke coming my way.” Lady Ellen wrinkled her nose. “I was afraid I’d be stuck playing cards with him or walking in the picture gallery. But where are you going?”

“I wish to hear what Mr. Musgrave has to say.”

“You mustn’t! Papa doesn’t like to be interrupted in his study.”

“He shall have to endure my presence this once.”

On that bold declaration, Natalie rushed out of the schoolroom and down several flights of stairs to the ground floor. She remembered noticing the location of Godwin’s study when Hadrian had taken her and Leo on a tour. It overlooked the gardens at the rear of the house.

When she arrived there, the door was closed. She put her ear to the panel, but the wood was too thick for her to hear anything more than the muffled sound of male voices. They seemed sharp and upraised, lending the impression of a dispute in progress.

Lifting her hand to knock, she paused, beset by sudden qualms. Having spent most of her time in the nursery, she had not encountered Lord Godwin since her first day here, when he had glowered at her with chilly dislike. What if she angered him and he banished her from the house at once? What if he didn’t even allow her to stay with Leo until another governess could be hired?

The day of parting would be upon her. Today. Without any time to prepare Leo … or herself.

She swallowed hard. No, that wouldn’t happen. She need only remain calm, reasonable, and respectful. If she could mediate political clashes between opposing senators at her father’s dining table, then she certainly could handle one haughty English earl.

Natalie rapped on the door. A moment later, it swung open. Her pulse did a wild dance as she found herself facing Hadrian.

The Duke of Clayton, she revised, for in his snowy cravat and tailored coat of dark blue superfine, he appeared every inch the English nobleman. No trace remained of the charming lover of the previous night. His tousled brown hair was now neatly combed, his raspy jaw shaven to perfect smoothness, his warm affability exchanged for his signature expression of cool hauteur.

For the barest instant, she glimpsed a softening of his gaze, then decided it must have been a trick of the rainy daylight. The granite intensity of his eyes gave no hint whatsoever that he was pleased to see her. Quite the contrary, in fact, judging by his frown. Had their passionate kiss meant so little to him?