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alike in the important ways.
    He shoved those thoughts away entirely. Something he was very good at doing.
    “Your daughter, should she have a governess?”
    He was genuinely interested, he was surprised to find. Not that he would have asked if he weren’t interested—he didn’t waste
     time on questions when he didn’t care to hear the answer. It resulted in a lot of silence between him and the people he encountered
     on a daily basis. Except for her.
    “She should,” Mrs. Cheltam replied, her expression slightly rueful. “We were about to hire one before my husband passed away.”
    Silence, again, as Michael didn’t bother offering condolences. He had to admit that on the whole he was glad the man had died;
     without that, she wouldn’t be here.
    “You’ll hire one for her. I’ll pay the salary, of course.” Michael was as startled as she seemed to be as the words left his
     mouth. What had he told himself about impetuous decisions? That they never worked out? And yet here he was deciding to bring
     yet another stranger into his household.
    “That wouldn’t be appropriate, Your Grace,” she said, her mouth pressed into a prim line.
    “Hadlow,” he corrected. Which she knew damn well. “And I don’t care if it’s not appropriate. Have I given you the impression
     I care about any of that at all?”
    He found he’d walked toward her in a nearly predatory way, as though he were going to pounce. The thought was immensely appealing.
    Thankfully, the door opened to admit Hawkins before he could decide one way or the other. At which point he knew he couldn’t
     do it, no matter how tempting it was to get her to unbend, to lean against the sofa back as he kissed her.
    “I’ll take those,” Michael said instead, walking to Hawkins, who was bearing two brandy glasses on a tray. He picked them
     up, then nodded to his butler. “You can leave us.”
    Hawkins bowed and left the room.
    Michael walked to the small round table where the brandy was kept, placing the glasses down and lifting up one of the heavy
     decanters. He unstoppered it, poured a healthy amount in both glasses, and picked them up, the sharp smoky aroma of the brandy
     tickling his nostrils.
    He returned to where she sat and handed her the glass. She looked skeptical, but took it from him. Their fingers touched,
     and he felt a pleasurable spark of something sizzle from the contact.
    “To Gertrude’s governess,” he said, raising his glass. He waited until she brought the glass to her mouth to take a sip, then
     he drank.
    The brandy burned going down, a painful pleasure that warmed him from the inside. He sat down on the sofa as well, making
     certain to keep to the farther side so she wouldn’t get skittish about his intentions.
    Not that he had intentions toward her—he certainly had desire, but no intention of acting on them. But she needed to know
     she was safe with him, even though they were alone in the evening drinking brandy.
    “Will you need assistance hiring someone?” he asked, taking another sip. He was more prepared for the burn of the brandy on
     the second taste, and he rolled the fiery liquid on his tongue. He didn’t care much about food, to his cook’s chagrin, but
     he did enjoy excellent brandy.
    “If you approve, I can find someone through the Quality Employment Agency. The ones who submitted me for your position.”
    Your position. He would have to start thinking about other things because he was finding he could discern the innuendo in nearly anything
     she said. Damn distracting.
    “That will be fine. The governess will reside here as well.”
    “Thank you.” She spoke in a low, honest tone, and he felt his chest swell at the sincerity of her words. No wonder people
     did nice things for other people, if this was how it felt when they got thanked. He’d never done anything out of the goodness
     of his heart, but perhaps he should think about it. Or maybe it was only her thanks that warmed him as