Watching them, Natalie remembered the close call with the stallion in the stable yard. Lord Wymark had only grudgingly apologized for his negligence. Between his careless manner and the unwelcoming coldness of his parents, Oak Knoll seemed a perilous place for a vulnerable little boy.

She told herself the duke would protect Leo when she returned to America to open her school. Yet worry settled into her bones. How could she depend on Hadrian when he would soon go back to his life in London?

“Dear heaven!” Priscilla exclaimed from the window. “Archie, you must come and see this!”

A few minutes ago, she had entered her husband’s study to discuss the preparations for their daughter’s debut. Priscilla was planning a spectacular ball that hopefully would also include an announcement of the girl’s betrothal to the Duke of Clayton. It was necessary to squeeze a generous budget out of her miserly husband. The earl was by nature the tightest of skinflints, begrudging every penny spent, even refusing her pleas for the family to travel to London early since he didn’t wish to incur a month’s extra expense in opening Godwin House for the season.

He must be made to realize that procuring the exalted title of duchess for their daughter did not come cheaply.

For that reason, she had brought him a snifter of his favorite brandy and wore the marine-blue silk that he’d always admired. She might no longer be the blushing bride that he’d married, but Priscilla had worked hard to maintain an elegant figure. Over the years, she’d learned a few tricks to coax him into prying open his locked purse.

One of which was to take up a stance by the window so that the sunlight enhanced her full-breasted form. Like any man, he could be most easily manipulated when he was distracted by lustful thoughts. The trouble was, all of her scheming had flown away when she’d glanced outside and spied a sight shocking enough to chill the heart of any matchmaking mama.

Pivoting, she saw the earl was still sipping brandy in his leather chair by the fire. “Godwin,” she snapped. “For pity’s sake, come here at once!”

The earl grimaced—not a promising sign for sweet-talking him—but Priscilla feared there might be a bigger crisis in the making. She waited impatiently while he put down his glass and arose to join her at the window.

“What is it?” he asked.

He was ogling her bosom and she had to tug on his arm to get his attention. “Look outside! Clayton is with Miss Fanshawe. And they appear to be far too cozy!”

Godwin cast a desultory glance out the window. “They’re merely walking toward the house.”

“They were sitting very close together beneath the oak tree just a moment ago. Worse, the duke was kissing her hand and gazing into her eyes! If you’d come when I first called, you’d have seen it for yourself.”

“You must be mistaken. Even if Clayton had an interest in her, he’s too much the gentleman to conduct an affair in full view of the house.”