“Shehas a name,” Heathbrook said, bristling. “You will call her Miss Bernard.”
“Or you may call me ‘Giselle,’” she said, then glanced at Heathbrook. “Unless you prefer they be more formal with me, Heath.”
“You … you’re calling him what Mother called Father,” Kit put in, looking a bit perturbed.
Giselle smiled. “He asked me to. ‘Lord Heathbrook’ seemed so formal. Heathismy fiancé after all. What wouldyouhave me call him?”
Kit thrust out his chin. “Lord Ingram.”
“Don’t be a dunce,” Evan snapped. “He’s the earl now. You have to call him Lord Heathbrook.”
“I’m not a dunce, you bloody arse!” Kit said.
“Now, Kit—” Heathbrook began.
“You had better watch your language, you little worm,” Evan shot back, “or I’ll give you what for!”
“Stop it, stop it!” Zachary cried, clapping his hands over his ears. “I hate it when you fight!”
“That’s enough, boys!” Heath said firmly. “We’ll be spending hours together in a carriage tomorrow, and it will seem interminable if you lot continue sniping at each other. So, there will be no fighting. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” the two younger boys mumbled.
“And we’re in the presence of a lady, so no naughty words like ‘bloody’ and ‘arse,’ either.” Heathbrook stared Evan down. “And no name-calling.”
“I learned it from you,” Evan shot back. He was clearly testing his limits.
“No doubt,” Heathbrook said dryly. “Did you enjoy it when I called you insulting names?”
Evan sighed. “Not really.”
“Then perhaps you should not follow my bad example,” Heathbrook said. “I’ve learned through the years that people of all sorts generally respond better to respect than to name-calling.”
When a brooding silence fell over the carriage, Heathbrook added, “I tell you what, why don’t all of you call me Heath? I’m not your father, after all.” He flashed Giselle a rueful smile, which she returned with one so brilliant that his pulse jumped at the sight.
God, he was in such trouble. Today’s court case had amplydemonstrated that he could not risk doing anything to ruin his chances at keeping the boys. Which meant he must not lay a hand on Giselle anymore if he didn’t want it discussed the next time he went to court.
Or reported to Yates by one of his uneasy brothers. He must behave toward her with the respect she deserved, which meant keeping his hands off of her. Even if it was torture to do so.
“I hope you lads enjoy collared veal with roast potatoes,” he said. “That’s what we’re having for dinner tonight, along with ham and macaroni. And there’s ice cream for dessert.”
“Ice cream!” Zachary sighed. “We haven’t had ice cream in years. Not since Mother died.”
“Did our cousin starve you?” Heathbrook said, his throat tightening at the possibility.
“Of course not,” Evan said sullenly. “But Cousin Yates is a pinchpenny and ice cream is very dear.”
“Also,” Kit said, “he didn’t have an icehouse on his property as we do at Longmead.”
“So, whatdidyou eat?” Giselle asked.
“Oh, roast beef mostly,” Kit said. “He has his own cattle. Not to mention, his own deer and fowl and partridges.”
“But his cook was awful,” Zachary said. “Not like ours at Longmead. Everything was tough.”
The boys all nodded.
“Well, I have an excellent cook, so no worries there,” Heathbrook said. Thank God he hadsomethingthe lads might want.