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“Keene. That girl is under my protection and if you⁠—”

“Didn’t take you long to land solidly on the bollocks option.”

“She’s alone for all intents and purposes. That louse of a brother is not going to be safeguarding her interests.”

Christopher narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just imply that I might take advantage of Sofia.”

“No. That’s not it at all. I simply understand how very much you like her. Things … get out of hand.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m not sixteen years old and in search of any convenient location to shove my prick, Gabe. She matters to me and I wouldn’t do anything to put her in danger.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Gabriel said.

“Here I am, attempting to distract my dearest friend from staring mournfully at his wife’s abdomen while she sleeps, and this is the thanks I get? Well never mind. I’ll keep my details to myself.” He pretended to sulk while selecting a neckcloth.

“Good grief, Keene. I said I was sorry.”

“When did you become such a prude, anyway?” Christopher asked. Gabriel opened his mouth to respond, but Christopher cut him off. “No. Don’t answer that. You’ve always been a prude. I should really set this cravat to the side and find you a nice ostentatious bonnet so you can fully embrace the role of disapproving dowager.”

Gabriel sputtered with a laugh. “I come to you with the utmost contrition. I am earnestly, profoundly, wholeheartedly penitent. Now will you please stop pouting and tell me about your evening? Kissed your pretty hedgehog, did you?”

Christopher pinned Gabriel with a look.

“Thistle then. You compared my wife to a weed. It’s only fair.”

Christopher shrugged. “Quite the opposite, actually. She very nearly took advantage of me. I should’ve paid more attention to those lessons my sister was forced to endure about protecting her virtue. Although, in truth, I believe Sofia was more interested in shutting me up than getting beneath my petticoats. My metaphorical petticoats, you understand. And stop laughing at me. She was quite persuasive.”

The grey colouring had dissipated from Gabriel’s face and smile lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes. “In all the years I’ve wanted to shut you up, it hasn’t once crossed my mind to reach under your petticoats. I’m certain her mauling was multi-purpose.”

“She’d also sampled most of your alcohol, so for all I know, she won’t even remember our interlude this morning.” That concern had been rumbling through his thoughts all morning, and giving voice to his fear brought on a fresh wave of dread. He didn’t want to pretend that last night hadn’t happened. Her hands burning a path across his skin. Her weight in his arms. Nothing had ever felt quite so right.

Christopher held out a waistcoat for Gabriel, then retrieved his Hessians. “Did Sofia’s brother seem familiar to you? Have you ever met him?”

“I don’t believe so. There is something of Miss Lioni in her brother’s face, I think. Perhaps that⁠—”

Christopher cut him off with a shake of his head. “It was more the way he stared at you, familiar and downright malevolent. And Sofia seems as desperate for him to go away as she is to keep him near, even with his drinking. It’s odd. I offered him a position on the estate, by the way. Gardening. And I expect you to smooth that over with Bennett in retribution for the insult to my character. But at the moment, Oliver seems as likely to skewer me with a spade as to use it in the rose garden.”

Gabriel nodded. “How did he fare overnight?”

“No fever yet, and he hasn’t gobbled up any housemaids or shoved any silverware down his trousers. So, uneventful thus far, but it’s early.”

“Thank goodness. It would be more difficult to smooth things over with Bennett if Oliver already had silverware in his drawers.”

The longer Sofia was awake, the more she remembered of the prior evening, and the more she remembered, the more she wanted to take herself right back to bed … for several decades. Perhaps when the only remaining staff member from its current legions was the ancient gardener who would undoubtedly outlive them all, it would be safe for her to leave her bed.

People always said that things look better in the morning. But her situation looked every bit as bad. Worse even, since she had to live through another twelve hours before diving back under the covers again. Sofia tried to work on her lesson plans for the week but ended up scribbling words like “soft ears” and “unspeakable doom” in the margins.

Sofia didn’t have time to think of that now. She would use every spare minute of Oliver’s recovery appealing to whatever better nature remained of him. Perhaps there was still a chance she could convince him to take that position in Cornwall. And then she would have to walk away from Northam Hall. Away from duchesses who reassembled broken plates and dukes who worried over wounded chickens. Away from the first meaningful friendships she had cultivated in years. And away from Christopher, with his yellow waistcoats and ridiculous pear trees.

She would give up this impossible place and all of its tantalising “might-have-beens” and she wouldn’t be any worse off than she had been before. In fact, she’d be better for her time with these people. Sofia had never once considered life as a governess, but with the appearance of one precocious girl in an apple orchard, that path, and the joy it brought her, could carry her well beyond her days at Northam Hall. She would take that perfectly attainable little dream and plant it in a garden far away from here, some place with conventional children and their dull aristocratic parents. She would fill her life with purpose and it would be enough.

Sofia dropped her quill onto the desk and gathered extra pins for her hair. With the precise placement of each one, she felt more capable.

But there were some realities she could not ignore. Managing Oliver during his stay would require asking for help, which felt precariously close to relying on the help of others. She shoved in a few extra hairpins for good measure. There. Now, if only everything messy in life could be managed and pinned in its place. She slipped on her half boots and went down to break her fast.

Sofia took a muffin from the sideboard, then nibbled around its edges as she wove through the guest wing hallways. Finding her brother’s location was effortless given the volume of his great billowing snores. When Oliver had left home, the absence of that horrible noise had kept her awake and staring at the ceiling. Hearing it now didn’t bring her the comfort she’d longed for then.

Moving silently through the room, she placed her hand on his forehead, finding it blessedly cool. Oliver snuffled once under her gentle touch, his face scrunching as he mumbled something and covered his eyes with his bicep. His breath smelled of spirits. One quick sweep around the room revealed an empty bottle tucked behind a potted plant.