“You don’t need to think you’re ever going to kiss me,” Tad remarked from the doorway. “Besides, it isn’t time for good-nights, it’s morning.”

Maggie took a moment to compose herself before turning to face her other pupil. He was standing in the doorway, leaning indolently against the jamb, but his face and the expression in his eyes showed Maggie a vulnerability she’d only suspected was there before. “Hello, Tad,” she said, ignoring his challenge.

“Are you going to tell Papa that I ran off?” Tad demanded, watching Maggie with both suspicion and hope.

The mention of Mr. Kirk reminded Maggie of the setdown she was about to receive in the study. “Absolutely not,” she said. “But I would appreciate it if you would tell me where your father’s study is.”

Tad looked pleased and, conversely, worried. “You’re in trouble, ain’t you?”

“That was a terrible abuse of the King’s English, Tad Kirk, and I will thank you to rephrase it.”

Tad gave a sigh. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you, miss?” he asked. Then, stubbornly, he added, “We don’t have a king. We have a queen now—this year is her Golden Jubilee.”

Maggie was developing a headache. She was hungry and tired and unnerved at the prospect of the coming interview with Duncan Kirk, but she was determined to reach Tad somehow, to win his respect if not his affection. For this reason she did not take the trouble to explain that the King’s English is always the King’s English, no matter who might be on the throne at the time. “We’ll be discussing Her Majesty’s reign in our lessons.”

Tad frowned. “I don’t call her that, you know,” he confided. “I’m half American, and Americans don’t have kings and queens.”

“I realize that,” Maggie responded circumspectly.

“Papa’s going to take us there to visit one day. To America, I mean.”

Maggie was smoothing her skirts and her hair, wondering if the stated fifteen minutes had passed. “I envy you,” she said truthfully. “I’m not sure I’ll ever find my way back.”

Without speaking, Tad crossed the room and took Maggie’s arm. In a gentlemanly fashion he led her out of the bedchamber, along the hallway, and down the first set of stairs. Maggie knew that he was escorting her to his father’s study and she was touched at his attempt to be as mannerly as his brother was.

They were standing outside a massive set of double doors on the second floor before Tad released his hold on Maggie’s elbow and whispered somberly, “I hate it when I get called to Papa’s study. I always get my hide tanned.”

Maggie was careful not to smile, and she bent slightly to whisper back, “I’m a bit nervous myself.”