"A gentleman to see you, Miss Priscilla," Yates stated, appearing on the terrace. He held out a silver receiving tray containing a single white card.

Papa glared at me evenly as I lifted the calling card. I glanced at the name, and my heart quickened. Viscount Merriweather Barnchester, it read in beautiful script. I smiled gratefully, rose, and excused myself. Demurely, I entered the house and then ran toward the summer parlor, lifting my skirts above the ankles. Catching my breath, I stopped in the doorway and waited until my heartbeat slowed.

"I am quite pleased to see you this morning, milord," I gasped, bobbing a curtsey. He reached out his hands, and I took them. Bending swiftly, he kissed my hand.

"The pleasure is all mine," the tall, lean gentleman replied. He led me to the settee, and we sat side-by-side. "I thought I dreamed a vision of loveliness last night. I rushed over this morning to make sure you are real."

"I dreamed the same thing...well, almost," I giggled, blushing deeply. "I'm glad you're real."

As I settled against the settee, the door crept open, and Miss Young entered. Ann Marie followed, carrying the coffee tray, and placed it before us on the table. The governess sat and began to pour out. Chaperoned, I thought in dismay.

"It is kind of you to call this morning, milord," Miss Young stated, demurely offering Spencer a plate of shortbreads. "The wedding yesterday was lovely, and the reception went off without a hitch. Mr. Blanchard and I did not stay long for the festivities. We remained quite long enough to make an appearance. Miss Priscilla remained out far longer than her curfew."

My eyes shot daggers at the governess for insinuating my youth. I shrank back against the settee and sipped my coffee. She continued to prattle on while Spence nodded his acknowledgment of her themes. Finally, he rose and graciously took his leave.

"I am sorry, Priscilla," Claudia Young stated, setting down her coffee cup. "Your father insisted I accompany you. He thought you spent too long with that young man last evening. Etiquette does demand you have a chaperone when a gentleman calls upon you."

"Thank you for your attendance," I tersely remarked. Clipping my heels, I marched from the room.

My hasty footsteps returned me to the summerhouse. Leaning against the railing, I glared at the morning glories as they leaned toward the sunlight. I sighed, my mind returning to the previous night. The click of a heel on the steps brought me from my reverie. I turned, expecting Grayson.

"Alone at last," Spencer remarked, rushing toward me. "Surely your dragon won't follow us out here."

"I certainly hope not," I returned sharply. "I really am too old for a governess." I sighed. "In the fall, Grayson will go up to Oxford. Mr. Blanchard will leave us then. With luck, Miss Young will accompany him—they plan to marry someday. Ah, but I must have a London season, and the governess will transition into my companion."

"Perhaps we could dispense with the awkward season," my companion muttered, pressing my hand between his. "If all goes well this summer, we might make other plans."

Other plans! My heart leaped with joy, and then I came back to earth. I had only just become acquainted with Viscount Barnchester during the previous evening. Nevertheless, I felt immediately drawn toward him—as though we had known each other all our lives.

"My regiment bivouacs nearby," Spencer continued, his eyes focused on a distant point of the garden. "I plan to spend every moment of my free time here with you."

"Oh," I sighed, my heart beating rapidly.

"Shall we stroll?" He offered me his elbow.

"I'd rather stay here," I responded, sinking onto the bench. Visions of Miss Young hustling out to join us played in my mind if we exposed ourselves in the garden. "Tis quite cool in the summerhouse. Tis a hot summer this year."

"In other words, you fear if your father sees you with me, he will send out the dragon," Spence interpreted, grinning widely.

"Something like that," I muttered, lowering my eyelashes. It thrilled me that my companion read my mind so easily.

Spencer leaned back and stretched his arm across the summerhouse railing. His fingers played across my shoulder lightly, and then he pulled me close. I leaned my head against his chest and closed my eyes dreamily. Ordinarily, I would not become entwined with a stranger so quickly. However, I felt completely comfortable with my new acquaintance.

"May I kiss you?" he asked, his whisper carrying lightly across the still morning.

For a moment, I thought I imagined his request. The idea of kissing him thrilled me, but I resigned it to my overactive imagination. Instead, I nestled into his arms and plucked a morning glory. Despite my lack of response, Spence bent forward and captured my lips with his. I returned it with more vigor than I realized.

Rising to my knees, I perched on the bench and practically fell into my lover's arms. We tightened our embrace, and my tongue touched his. An overwhelming passion welled inside me, and together, we rose. I pressed my body against his and felt the sudden swell of his desire. For a moment, I remained transfixed.

Life had not prepared me for the urgency of the situation. Sheltered behind the walls of Everstow Manor, neither Joel, Grayson, nor I gained much experience in the outside world. My mind flashed with an understanding of how my older brother became so quickly entwined with someone as crude as Lottie Plumb. The sudden thought transfixed me. My back straightened rigidly, and I drew away from Spencer.

Lifting my skirts, I spun and ran pell-mell from the summerhouse. When I reached the terrace, I stopped and caught my breath. Why did I have to think of Charlotte right at that moment? Even far away on her honeymoon, she had a way of casting negativity into my life.

Deflated, I plodded upstairs to the nursery and flopped on my bed. After a while, I drifted toward the window and gazed into the gardens. Spence stood in the summerhouse leaning in the doorway. He gazed toward the house as though searching for me to reappear. I sighed and plunked into an armchair. Grayson entered and sat at the edge of the bed.

"Have you ever felt stupid, Gray?" I asked, frowning. "I mean, really stupid?"

"I don't know; I guess, maybe," my brother responded after a brief delay. "Are you feeling stupid?"

I quickly related the morning's events. My brother regarded me solemnly.

"Do you remember Rube Macegan?" Grayson finally asked.

"Rueban? Sure. His father, Matthew, worked as a groom for a short time," I answered. "What about him?"

"We became good friends the summer they lived above the stables, remember?" Gray stated tentatively. When I nodded, he continued, "I thought we were more than friends." He paused dramatically, then casting his eyes downward, whispered, "I kissed him beside the meadow pond."

"Gray!" I shouted, astonished. Leaping to my feet, I towered above my brother. "Whatever for?"

"I liked him," my brother mouthed silently. Tears welled in his eyes. "He... pushed me in the pond, called me Antinous, and said I deserved to drown. The next day, Matthew resigned, and the family moved away."

"Oh, Gray," I cried, sitting beside him and taking his hands. I recalled the story of Nero's young lover, Antinous, and how he mysteriously drowned in the Nile.

"I felt stupid," Grayson continued, tears clinging to his lashes. "I wanted to die."

Dear Gray, I thought, suddenly considering his plight. It had never occurred to me that he was attracted to other young men. I held his confession in my secret heart, promising myself I would never reveal it. Nevertheless, I began to look at him differently. His actions became feminine in my eyes. How his footsteps danced through life, and the excited fluttering of his hands slightly altered my opinion of him.

No one ever knew the inner struggles of those closest to us. I sighed and considered the turmoil within my brother's heart. Stealthily, my hand crept out and enclosed his sweating palm. Gray made a great deal of emotional effort to make his confession. I loved him even more than I had previously.

"Surely you wouldn't take your own life?" I asked, squeezing his hand. "It's not quite so bad, is it?"

"It would anger Papa if he knew, Priss," my elder sibling whispered. "He expects me to become a vicar like Uncle Everett. The Bible condemns men with the same feelings I have for other men. How can I do as Papa expects? I don't want to disappoint him."

"Oh, perhaps Papa will understand..." I began.

"No, he won't," Grayson exclaimed, bowing his head. "He had a special meeting with Mr. Blanchard. He, in turn, lectured me on homosexuality. He said I had family obligations to fulfill. It was as though he expected me to turn it off like I would turn a faucet. I can't hide from the truth about myself."

I pushed aside my frivolous thoughts about Spencer and seriously approached my brother. Indeed, he could never become anyone other than himself. Family obligations should take second place to one's feelings. I wanted Grayson to live a happy and productive life. He could not do so if he had to repress his true self.

"Perhaps you will have a better chance to find yourself in Oxford," I suggested. "If you get away from Papa's influence and see the outside world, you can make the life choices that suit you best."

"I don't want to leave here, Prissy," Grayson cried, on the verge of breaking down. "Leaving home scares me particularly after..."

"Particularly after Joel came home with Miss Plumb," I finished, sighing. "Surely, you would never become entangled with another Miss Plumb."

A shocked expression crossed my brother's face, and he appeared more delicate than ever. I realized the error of my words.

"I didn't mean it, Gray," I countered my own statement. "I know you wouldn't find another Miss Plumb. You'll find your true love someday, and the world will brighten up like sunshine and roses. Papa will have to accept your decisions and whoever you return home with."

We sat side-by-side at the edge of my bed, clasping hands. Contented with a convivial silence, we enjoyed each other's company. I did not wish to think of the day Grayson departed. We anchored each other in life. Without him, I would know loneliness, and he would flounder away from the only home he ever knew.

"Are you in love, Priscilla?" Gray finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes," I answered unhesitatingly. "I am."

"I'm glad," my brother whispered. "Are you going to marry Spencer?"

"I hope so." I sighed. Although we had met only two days before, I felt a certain kinship with the new man in my life. "I want Papa to get to know him and approve of him. I'm sure he will."

"I'm sure, too," my brother answered. "I like him a lot."

"So do I."

I smiled contentedly to myself. Viscountess Priscilla of Barnchester, I thought, hugging myself tightly. I enjoyed the sound of it.