Alex recognized immediately the work of a master opponent when a good while later a happy band rounded the corner, walking toward the picnic laid out in the sun. His footmen had set out linen tablecloths of the palest gold an hour ago; napkins embossed with his crest were stacked next to silver tableware; the champagne was slowly warming in pools of melting ice. He was stretched out on the grass, his mouth irresistibly quirking with amusement as he watched Charlotte stroll toward him, head turned appreciatively toward Lucien, her eyes shining with laughter at something he had said. Foiled, Alex thought. Hoist with my own petard! That will teach me to indulge in a fit of petulance.

He rose easily to his feet. “You see,” he said with a welcoming smile, “our tempers are restored and we await you.” He gestured at Pippa, happily picking grass, but Charlotte had to compress her lips to avoid laughing. Surely he had emphasized our, ever so slightly? There was a moment of silence as everyone arranged themselves on the linen.

“Aha!” Will said. “I see that my meager picnic has been supplemented by regal fare!”

Charlotte was trying to figure out why she sank naturally into a place next to Alex. Remember, she told herself fiercely. Remember the way he treated you before. Do not make a booby of yourself again! Yet even the lightest touch of his hand on her arm made her shiver.

“Sir,” she said, keeping her tone light and indifferent.

“I merely wanted to offer you a strawberry,” said Alex with dulcet sweetness. He was stretched out on one side, propped up by an elbow. He leaned forward and handed her a strawberry.

“Ah, where is your daughter, that is, Lady Pippa?” Charlotte asked weakly.

The earl rolled back and Pippa came into view on his other side.

“Should she be eating grass?” Charlotte asked.

“Probably not,” Alex said in an unperturbed fashion. “Here, Pippa, you stop eating that grass. You’re not a horse.” He took the uneaten strawberry out of Charlotte’s hand. “Eat this instead,” he said, putting the strawberry into Pippa’s plump hand. She looked at it with interest and smashed it against her face.

“My goodness,” Charlotte said. “She looks like a lot of work. Doesn’t she have a nanny?”

“Oh, yes,” Alex replied. “The nanny’s over there.” He nodded toward a small grove of trees. His servants were decorously seated in a small group. Unlike their master, they were seated on benches, and rather than champagne, they seemed to be drinking ale. The one woman was unmistakably dressed in the uniform of a governess.

“Why is she over there and not here with Pippa?” Charlotte persisted.