Natalie had enjoyed their flirtatious compliments, at least until she’d learned the truth about those two rakes. Much to Hadrian’s vexation, the incident had only confirmed her beliefs about lecherous noblemen. There’d been no chance to reassure her on the way home, either, for Leo’s presence had prevented any private conversation.

You’re perfectly aware that I’ve a weakness for you.

Her frank words stirred the memory of that intimate interlude in her bedchamber several days ago. Ever since, the lust to possess her had burned in Hadrian. But he was mindful of the fact that for once, his rank put him at a disadvantage. Unlike the ladies of the ton, Natalie was a free spirit who had no interest in marriage to a man of wealth and power.

A man who belonged to the aristocracy that she scorned.

He clenched his jaw. At least he could feel reasonably certain that she wouldn’t depart for America straightaway. For one, she wanted Leo to have a suitable governess, and that would take time. For another, she was loath to part from the boy. Her affection was evident in the tender warmth on her face whenever she gazed at the brat. Now, if only she would look at him that way.

Fool! Had he fallen so low that he could envy a child? Apparently so!

Mastering his dark mood, Hadrian entered the blue salon and started toward the group of people gathered at the far end of the long chamber. Seated in their midst, his mother appeared strained by the task of playing hostess to a branch of the family that she heartily disliked. And they were all here, Lord and Lady Godwin, Lady Ellen, even Lord Wymark.

Abruptly, Hadrian’s gaze was riveted by the object of his frustrations.

Strikingly beautiful in the soft green gown she’d worn earlier, Natalie sat on a chaise with her hands folded in her lap. As always, that stunning combination of dark sable hair, emerald eyes, and creamy skin stirred a fierce admiration in him. She looked perfectly at home with his family, too. Her serene expression and proud posture lent her the noble aura of a duchess.

If only she aspired to become one.

Her grandfather was seated beside her, dapper in a cobalt-blue coat that looked a decade out of style. Hadrian surmised that Sir Basil had summoned her to the salon, for Godwin certainly wouldn’t have done so. The earl would as soon forget that she and his grandson even existed.

On that grim thought, he went forward to greet his cousins. The tension in the air felt thick enough to cut with a knife, and he wondered what had been said before his arrival. His mother, in particular, regarded him as a savior. Her fingers clutched at the skirt of her claret silk gown as if to keep herself from scratching out Godwin’s eyes. “My dear boy, you’re here at last!”

The earl afforded him a stiff nod. “Ah, Clayton. I trust you’ve been well.”