Benjamin hadn’t spent sixteen years around his father for nothing. “A type of dwelling used by the native tribes on the prairies of North America,” he supplied. “And you shouldn’t answer so rudely, Geoffrey.”

His small son simply looked at him. Those blue eyes might be shaped and colored like Alice’s, but she’d never given him such a stony look, Benjamin thought.

“We’ve come to ask you what sort of things you might like to do,” his uncle said. Benjamin felt a spurt of annoyance at the interference.

Geoffrey’s response was immediate. “I want to go to the gorge at Cheddar.”

“Nonsense,” declared Benjamin, just as quickly. “That’s no place for a child.”

“Geoffrey should be allowed to choose,” said Miss Saunders.

She seemed to delight in contradicting him, Benjamin thought. If he said the sky was blue, she’d probably argue the point.

“Is it something to do with cheese?” she asked. “I like cheddar very much.” She smiled at Geoffrey, who ignored her as effectively as a haughty grande dame might any toadeater.

Benjamin didn’t entirely blame him. Miss Saunders had no idea what she was talking about.

“I’ve heard there’s a warm spell coming up,” said his uncle. “Your head gardener, who’s said to be a weather oracle, reckons a taste of spring is on the way. Perhaps we could put together a picnic.”

“At the gorge,” said Geoffrey.

Tom, who had stood silently by till now, said, “I could chase after him, my lord. Make certain he don’t get into trouble. He’s been wanting to see that place for ages.” From his expression, it appeared that young Tom was curious about the gorge as well. “I told him nothing doing, of course. Not without permission.”

Everyone looked at Benjamin, even the nursery maid whose name he’d forgotten—all of them primed to cast him as the villain of the piece. Well, he wouldn’t be. And on their heads be it. “Fine. A picnic. In March. What could go wrong?”

Geoffrey leaped into the air, waving his arms and shouting in triumph. Miss Saunders started visibly at the noise.

“Let’s go and consult the housekeeper about arrangements,” said Benjamin’s uncle. “What is her name?”

“Mrs. McGinnis,” said Geoffrey. His small face turned sly. “She’ll make Cook give us muffins, ifyouask her.”

“Splendid.”

Benjamin wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but the earl swept Geoffrey, Tom, and the maid along in his wake, leaving him alone with Miss Saunders. He was making a habit of this, Benjamin thought. It was beginning to seem suspicious.

“So generous of you to grant a little boy a small treat,” his remaining companion said.

“Small? The gorge at Cheddar is a steep, dangerous place, full of caves to lure in curious children and lose them. We’ll have to watch Geoffrey every minute to make certain he stays safe.”

Miss Saunders looked daunted; Benjamin enjoyed her expression. “I didn’t know. You might have said so.”

“Yes, and be the sole voice forbidding, as you say, his treat. I didn’t care for the role. But please don’t encourage my son to think he can always get his own way.”

“As opposed to never getting it?”

Could this admittedly very pretty female have any idea how annoying she was? “Are you trying to turn Geoffrey against me? Is that your game? I won’t allow it.”

“I would never do such a vile thing!” exclaimed Miss Saunders.

“So you draw the line at kidnapping?”

“I do not… I wouldn’t—”

“You came here meaning to take him from me. If you’d managed to bundle him into your carriage, would you have waited for my permission?”

He watched her face, a pleasure in itself. And even more so as her irritation faded into doubt. “This inflammatory language is not helping our situation,” she said.

“Inflamm—” Benjamin surprised himself by laughing. “Our? In what sense is anythingours? There is noour. We’re speaking ofmyson, inmyhouse. You really have no business here, Miss Saunders.”