Natalie frowned, her gaze penetrating. “So you’re saying that when you were a fatherless little boy like Leo, the earl paid no attention to you, either?”

The appalled note in her voice startled him. “I wasn’t neglected,” he hastened to say. “Before I went off to Eton, there were nursemaids and governesses and tutors, of course. And I reported to the earl once a week so that he could evaluate the progress of my studies.”

“That’s hardly a stirring endorsement! What a dreadful way for a boy to grow up. All children need love and attention. Not just from servants, but from their parents, their family. Boys in particular need a father figure.”

Feeling unaccountably defensive, Hadrian prowled to the window to gaze out at the rainswept hills. He had both respected and feared his guardian, as was proper. It was simply the way that upper-class children were raised.

Yet somehow, Natalie’s critical assessment had resurrected a host of buried memories from his boyhood. He recalled falling down and skinning his knee, and being berated for running by a stern governess. Whenever he was ill, a succession of nameless maidservants had tended to him. At least for a time there had been Audrey’s mother, the first countess, who had come each night to press a kiss to his cheek. He’d been heartbroken at seven when she’d died since he’d seldom been allowed to visit his own mother.

A gust of wind tossed a flurry of raindrops against windowpanes, bringing him back to the present and reminding him that he hadn’t responded to Natalie. He turned back around. “Perhaps you just need time to accustom yourself to our English ways. Gentlemen seldom have much to do with the rearing of children.”

“Fiddlesticks. My father raised me after my mother died at my birth. Although I had a governess, Papa made sure he and I spent time together every day, playing games and telling stories, discussing current events. I never once doubted that he loved me—and he certainly was well versed in English ways from having grown up here.”

Hadrian seized the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity. “Ah, yes, the Lincolnshire Fanshawes. Why did you never mention that you had family in England?”

“I never thought it important,” she countered with a shrug. “But perhaps you think my father’s birth makes me an unsuitable guardian for Leo.”

“Don’t make assumptions. I’m merely interested … as a friend.” In so many ways, she was a tantalizing mystery to him. There were depths to her that he suspected would take a lifetime to fathom. But it was too soon to voice his strong feelings when he couldn’t quite define them himself.

Natalie studied him a moment. With all the grace of a medieval queen assuming her throne, she seated herself in the chair with its high carved back and lifted her hand in a languid wave. “Do sit down, Duke, and I’ll be happy to fill you in on the more titillating aspects of my family history.”