At the moment, though, he appeared to be in full ducal mode.

It was clear from those stern features that he was in the midst of issuing a severe reprimand to his cousin, who wore a sullen scowl. The family dynamics sharpened her curiosity. Although she didn’t know Wymark’s precise age, he looked to be perhaps twenty, not quite having reached his majority. Any young man on the cusp of manhood would resent being dressed down by an older relation.

The breeze carried the sharp rumble of Hadrian’s voice, though she could not quite discern his words. But she noticed that it was utterly unlike the warm, husky tone he had used with her. A memory teased her mind. In the instant when she’d noticed his injury, he’d been in the middle of saying something to her.

You’re the most—

The most … what? The most outspoken woman he’d ever met? The most vexing? The most beautiful?

She shook her head to deny the treacherous melting inside her. How ludicrous. Hadrian doubtless found her quite ordinary. He must be acquainted with dozens—perhaps hundreds—of elegant ladies who had the luxury to do nothing but pamper themselves all day. He would never sing the praises of a provincial American who had taught school in the wilderness, who refused on principle to curtsy, and who had managed to lose a wayward six-year-old boy twice in a matter of a few days.

No, if Hadrian had any interest in her at all, it could not be respectable.

Her father had grown up in England, and he’d spoken disparagingly of the noblemen who dallied with commoners while marrying blue-blooded ladies. Papa’s father—Natalie’s grandfather—had been a member of those exalted circles. A dislike of the aristocracy had been a primary reason why her father had emigrated to America as a young man. She’d be foolish to ignore the wisdom of his experience and form an attachment to any lord.

It was best to relegate the duke to the role of useful ally.

With that firm decision, she focused her attention on what was truly important. “Leo, please stand up. You and I need to have a talk about why you left the nursery.”

He stopped his cavalryman in mid-gallop. After taking one cautious look upward at her unsmiling face, he clambered to his feet and hung his head. “I didn’t want to practice my letters no more. I already know them.”

“Anymore,” she corrected. “And that doesn’t give you the right to wander about wherever you please.” This isn’t America, she wanted to say, but lacked the heart to remind him of his old life. “I spent the better part of an hour looking for you all over the house and the grounds.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, kicking the dirt with the toe of his shoe.

He did look repentant, but she sank down to his level anyway, placing her hands on his small shoulders and gazing into the grimy, freckled face that had been squeaky clean this morning. “By coming here to the stables without permission, you put yourself in harm’s way. That horse very nearly knocked you down. You might have been badly hurt.”