“I intended to see that the area was cleaned, glasses washed and keys returned, but felt it was more important that I see Miss Fanella safely to her chambers. When I returned, everything was gone and the cell was locked.”

  Uncle Daniel leaned back and crossed his arms before him, a hint of humor in his light eyes.

  “What were you thinking?” Darius demanded. “Do you want to see this miss ruined? Do you want to be married?”

  His brother was only three years older, but ever since they’d come to England and Darius had been learning all that he needed for when he would be the Duke of Ellings, he’d become more rigid, judgmental and often a prig. “You know the answer,” Ethan retorted.

  “Are you so certain she won’t tell her brothers?” Darius countered, though he’d lost a bit of his superiority.

  “She’s blackmailing her sister into remaining quiet.”

  “That I doona doubt,” Donovan snorted.

  “You were stuck in there for what, two hours?” His Grace asked.

  “I believe it was closer to three.”

  “Then we can assume that Brachton knows nothing of this incident,” Darius supposed.

  “You would know if he did,” Donovan answered with authority.

  “I wasn’t aware he’d arrived,” Ethan said.

  “Late last night. He and his wife,” his uncle answered.

  “Do you intend on making Brachton aware?” Ethan had to know if Donovan was going to alert the Grants.

  “That all depends. Were you honorable?”

  Ethan took a step back. “Most assuredly.”

  At least it was Donovan who was asking the questions. Had it been Darius, Ethan might have punched him because his older brother should know better.

  “You didn’t kiss or touch Fanella?” His Grace questioned.

  “No. We sat on the floor, talked on many subjects and shared a bottle and a half of wine until rescued.”

  “I see no need to tell anyone,” Uncle Daniel said after a moment then looked to Donovan. “You know the family better than I. Should they be told?”

  Donovan held Ethan’s eye for a moment, as if sizing him up and deciding if he was going to hold secrets or make a decision that would affect Ethan’s life permanently. “It isna right, but I ken Fanella well. She’s much like my sister and cousins so I have no doubt that it is exactly like ye say.” He narrowed his eyes. “Ye dinna kiss or touch her?”

  “No,” Ethan answered again. “Not in the manner you fear.”

  “So ye did touch her?” Donovan took a step forward.

  “I helped her off the floor where we’d been sitting. Then I assisted her to her chamber, with my sister and hers.”

  Donovan stared at him for a bit longer, unnerving Ethan, then nodded as if the answers satisfied. “I willna tell the Grants.”

  Ethan blew out a sigh of relief, as did Darius.

  “However, if Brachton learns, it will be his decision of what becomes of you two,” Uncle Daniel reminded him.

  “I am well aware of the potential consequences.” Though he hoped it didn’t come to that. Fanella was a lovely miss and Ethan had enjoyed her company, but he’d prefer to know a miss much better, and longer, before becoming leg-shackled.

  “To tell you the truth, I suspected my aunts. Had there been three glasses instead of two, then I would have asked them.”

  Ethan straightened. “Ladies Priscilla, Joanna and Esther are here?”

  Uncle Daniel pulled back and blinked. “You know them?”

  “They visited what, two years ago?” Darius asked Ethan.

  “They were more exhausting than having children about,” Ethan laughed. “I can’t wait to see them again.”

  “I’d not known they’d traveled so far. I worry about them. They shouldn’t be traveling anywhere at their age,” Uncle Daniel stated.

  “I’m fairly certain they’ll outlive all of us,” Darius assured their uncle.

  “I can only hope to be as active and alert as those three when I’m in my seventies,” Ethan added then turned to his uncle. “Thank you for your confidence, Your Grace,” Ethan finally said, then to Darius. “You, will not say a word.” Ethan didn’t care if his older brother would one day be a duke, he wasn’t going to treat him any differently than he had his entire life.

  Darius smirked, which was his usual response to Ethan’s threat, but it was also an assurance that he’d hold their secret. Ethan felt free to leave them to do whatever ducal things required their attention and hoped to find his great-aunts breaking their fast.

  However, as soon as he stepped from the library, he practically bumped into Fanella. She was pale this morning and her grey eyes were dull with worry or pain. “Are you unwell?”

  Her sister snickered.

  “Headache? Upset stomach?”

  Fanella nodded.

  “Let’s get some tea and toast into you. It should help.”

  “Not yet,” Fanella insisted. “I must speak with His Grace.”

  “Were you going to confess about the wine?” Ethan couldn’t help but smile.

  “Then ye’ve heard. We canna let a servant lose their job for somethin’ we are responsible for.”

  Ethan took her arm and led her away from the closed library door. “I’ve already spoken with His Grace. He promises to hold our secret.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.” She placed a hand on her breast. “He was not too cross, was he?”

  “No,” Ethan assured her. “But he did inform me that your brother arrived last evening.”

  “Lachlan?”

  “Yes. And my uncle also warned me of what would happen if he were to learn.”

  “Then we’ll just have to make certain that none of my brothers ever know.” And with those words, she also sent a raised eyebrow warning to her sister.

  Chapter 8

  As they neared the breakfast room, Ethan took a step back and allowed the sisters to enter. Fanella slid him a glance, but he simply nodded and did not follow immediately. Was he trying to put distance between them? Did he not wish for anyone to know that they’d met?

  Of course, they hadn’t been formally introduced before she’d left the sitting room yesterday and then she’d missed supper… It was probably best that they remain strangers until an introduction so as not to draw attention or cause others to inquire as to how they already knew one another.

  As Jesse filled her plate with all manner of foodstuffs, Fanella swallowed back against a wave of nausea and in the end, selected toast and a piece of fruit and retreated from the offending aromas before they sent her running for the nearest chamber pot.

  “Lachlan, when did ye arrive?” Jesse asked with delight, as if she had no previous knowledge that he and Maddie were here.

  “Late last evening,” he answered though Lachlan studied Fanella. First, he looked at her face, then the plate which lacked her normal breakfast choices, then back into her eyes with concern. “Is all well, Fanella?”

  “I’ve a headache is all.”

  “If you are unwell, shouldn’t you rest?” Maddie asked.

  “How can I lie abed when we are in such an old and glorious castle?” she answered with forced gaiety.

  “You can always explore tomorrow, since I have a feelin’ that is what ye wish ta do,” Lachlan offered with a hint of teasing in his brown eyes.

  “Aye, but we only have a fortnight and that might not be enough time.”

  “You may be correct,” Ethan agreed as he took a seat beside Lachlan. “My family arrived this past summer, and even though we have not been here the entire time, we’ve been in residence long enough and I’m still making discoveries. We have nothing like this in America, of course, and I find the castle quite fascinating.” Then he turned to Lachlan. “Ethan Copeland, nephew of His Grace.”

  Lachlan introduced himself and Madeline, though none of the Grants called her by that name. “Have you met my sisters?”

  “Not officially,” Ethan answered.

  In short order, Lachlan introduced them.

  “What have ye discovered of interest, Mr. Copeland?” Fanella asked. It wouldn’t do to call him Ethan in front of her family.

  “Everything is of interest from the dungeon to the watchtower and almost everything in between.”

  Her face heated at the mention of the dungeon and if he were closer, she’d kick him under the table for even mentioning it. “The watchtower?”

  “The view in all directions is spectacular.” He leaned forward. “Did you know that the castle also boasts twelve cannons? Three on each side, mounted to bring destruction to anyone who might attack.”

  She’d not known that. In fact, Fanella had never seen a cannon before.

  “From the watchtower, not only can one view the surrounding countryside, but the walls of the castle and all that is within those walls.”

  “Why don’t you show Miss Fanella the tower after you’ve broken your fast, Ethan?”

  Fanella turned to find His Grace standing not far behind her.

  “I’m certain Mr. Copeland has more important matters to attend to than escorting my sister about, Your Grace,” Lachlan offered, dismissive, as if she were still on leading strings. At least he didn’t reach across the table, pat her head and tell her to run along.

  “Nonsense. The boy’s been exploring the castle since he arrived. As I’m to understand, Miss Fanella also has an interest in the structure and history, my nephew would make an excellent guide.”

  Fanella glanced across the table to Ethan, whose cheeks were slightly flushed. She couldn’t understand why unless he was embarrassed because his uncle had called him a boy. Ethan hadn’t been a boy for some time.

  Or, perhaps he didn’t wish to spend further time with her.

  “I don’t wish to be a bother,” Fanella offered. “I’m certain I can locate the tower on my own.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Ethan nearly interrupted.

  “I’m certain the two of you can find a proper chaperone. This may be a house party, but it wouldn’t do for the two of you to be alone either.”

  Fanella glanced away as her face heated. His Grace knew of last night. Did he now think poorly of her? Was he afraid that she’d try to trap Ethan into marriage?

  “We’ll be happy to chaperone,” a woman answered with glee and Fanella turned toward the entrance to note three older women standing just inside the breakfast room, smiling brightly.

  “What are maiden aunts for if not to chaperone?” another proclaimed.

  Maiden aunts? Who did they belong to?

  Halfway up to the tower his three great-aunts paused and leaned against the wall.

  “I’d forgotten how steep the climb could be,” Lady Priscilla said with a hand against her chest, her breaths heavy.

  Ethan grew concerned. “Shall I escort you back to the sitting room?”

  “Nonsense,” Lady Joanna tapped him with her fan. “We need but a moment.”

  “Or, we could wait here,” Lady Esther suggested, a twinkle in her light blue eyes.

  “You are supposed to chaperone,” Ethan reminded them. It was bad enough that five people already knew that he’d been alone with Fanella. If anyone learned they had continued on to the watchtower without his great-aunts, His Grace might not be as forgiving a second time, or Donovan MacGregor.

  Lady Esther settled onto a step “You go ahead, and we’ll wait here and if anyone asks, I promise to wax poetically about the view.”

  When neither he nor Fanella continued their climb, Lady Joanna argued, “You could force us to attend you, but do you really wish to have Priscilla’s apoplexy on your conscience?”

  “We can return to the sitting room,” Ethan said again. “I’ll find another chaperone.”

  “Nonsense,” Lady Esther said. “You are already halfway there. Just hurry along and we’ll wait.”

  Ethan glanced to Fanella and she simply shrugged.

  “Very well,” he finally agreed. “But we won’t be long.”

  “Take your time dear.” Lady Joanna sat down beside her sister.

  As he and Fanella continued to ascend to the watchtower, he could have sworn he heard the three giggling.

  “Thank ye for showing me the watchtower,” Fanella blew out as they climbed the steep, winding stone stairs. “But I’m about to burn up beneath this pelisse.” She removed the outer garment and draped it over her arm.

  It was rather warm to climb when dressed for the cold, but necessary as it would be freezing once they emerged onto the top of the watchtower. “It’s my pleasure,” Ethan assured her. Though, he was a bit concerned. Fanella still had not recovered her coloring and a few times she had placed a hand against her midriff as if she were still ill. He’d not suffered a headache or sickness this morning and they’d drank the same amount of wine. “Are you certain you haven’t come down with an illness?”

  She merely shook her head. “It is simply a case of too much wine, this too shall pass.”

  “You’ve had experience in these matters?” Did Fanella have a habit of overindulging?

  “Nay. It’s never happened to me, but I’ve witnessed the sufferin’ in my brothers.” She stopped and looked at Ethan. “Why do they do this ta themselves? If they know how they are goin’ ta feel the next day, why drink ta much?”

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Ethan chuckled. “Men can often make poor decisions when spirits are involved.”

  “It’s a mistake I willna make again,” she assured him and continued up the stairs.

  Ethan followed, noting the length of her spine, squared off shoulders and delightful sway of her skirts that had previously been hidden by her pelisse. Occasionally he was able to view her ankles and a bit of leg as the stairs were steep and she needed to lift her skirts to keep from tripping.

  He should not be looking at her legs, her bum or any other part of her being, Ethan reminded himself.

  He’d judged her as being slight in form when they’d first met, and that had been a mistake given how the shape of her backside was revealed when she gathered her skirts tightly to keep them out of the way and to keep from tripping on the stairs. Even though she wasn’t heavy, there was a roundness to her bottom and her breasts were quite full, which gave him confidence that she was soft, not bony beneath her gown.

  “We’re almost near the top,” he said, breaking the silence.

  “I would have assumed we’d have reached it by now given the number of stairs we climbed.”

  Fanella was a bit winded, but so was he. Even though he’d made the trek often since arriving at Chatwell, the steep climb always made his lungs burn.

  “We can stop for a bit if you’d like.”

  “Nay. If ye said it’s not much further, then we should continue.”

  Ethan tried to look everywhere but at her backside and the sway of her skirts, but due to the steep stairs remained five steps behind so as not to crowd her, putting him at near eyelevel with her bottom. A behind he’d become quite fascinated with. A bum he’d like to caress. A bottom that, in the right circumstance and position, could provide a man vast amounts of pleasure.

  Blast! He should not be thinking about Fanella’s bum.

  “It ends.”

  She stopped and Ethan nearly ran into her.

  “It just stops.”

  He chuckled. “The door is above you.” He’d forgotten this part. “Let me step around you to get it opened.”

  “Oh, I see,” she said brightly and pushed on the wood above her head.

  It barely moved.

  “It’s rather heavy.”

  “I’ll see that it is opened,” Ethan assured her. One as slight as Fanella wouldn’t have the strength to push the heavy door open. He’d had trouble the first time.

  As he stepped up, she moved past him and down a few steps, but given the narrowness of the space, her breasts brushed against his chest. They were barely a breath away from the other and it would be so easy to lean in and place his lips against hers…

  Ethan stopped the thoughts before they could go further and found himself acting on the impulse to kiss and caress. With both hands above his head, Ethan pushed on the door until it gave and opened. He took the few final steps to emerge out onto the top of the tower then offered a hand to Fanella. She grasped her skirts in one hand, raising them further than she had when maneuvering the stairs, and allowed him to assist her out of the stairway. Once she gained her footing, Fanella shook out her skirts, which now, unfortunately, covered her legs.

  Fanella wandered to the edge of the stone wall and looked out before she gasped.

  Ethan joined her and icy air washed over his body, bringing a much-needed chill, which he hoped would reach his nether regions.

  “It’s amazin’!” she stated with awe. “I doona believe I’ve ever seen so far.”

  That was Ethan’s reaction the first time he stepped up here.

  “I can understand why the castle wouldna have ever been surprised by attackers.”

  The breeze blew across them and her blond curls danced on the wind. He’d never seen such tight, curly hair before. Even though it was pulled back, as was the fashion, the top wasn’t smooth, as if the curls refused to be completely tamed.

  Fanella rubbed her arms and shook as if chilled.

  “We should return inside before you catch your death.”

  “Nay,” she argued as she once again donned her pelisse. “It’s exhilarating and not so verra cold.”

  It may not be cold to her, but it certainly was to Ethan. In fact, he’d often been chilled in England as their temperatures were always cooler than he was used to enduring in Louisiana. Often the layers of clothing he despised at home were a welcome here. “I don’t wish for you to become ill.”

  Fanella smiled as if humoring him. “That is unlikely to happen. Besides the cool air is helping my head.”

  Could this be the cure to overindulgence? Freezing wind? Even if it were, he’d not get much opportunity to test the remedy once he returned to New Orleans. Then again, it was unusual for him to drink enough that he suffered the consequences the following day.