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A happy bark announced Ponto had also entered the room. He trotted over to Joseph, then caught sight of Lord Oakley. The young dog stopped, pointed his nose in the direction of the gentleman, and let out a small growl.
“Is this your dog, Lord Hoskins?” Lord Oakley asked, smiling down at Ponto regardless.
A new voice came from the parlor room door—one that sent Alice’s heart flipping. “His name is Ponto.”
The dog sprang toward Lord Brooks and yipped happily, his tail wagging. Lord Brooks spoke warmly toward the dog as he petted him.
Joseph hurried over to the gentleman as well, taking his hand. “Can you build a snowman with me?”
“Joseph,” Alice scolded softly. “I already told you. Lord Brooks is certainly much too busy.”
Lord Brooks simply went down on one knee, bringing himself eye level with the boy. “We had quite a lot of fun before, didn’t we?”
Joseph nodded emphatically.
“Unfortunately, there isn’t enough snow just now to build a suitable snowman.”
“That’s what Mama said,” Joseph grumbled.
Lord Brooks’s gaze swept over and met Alice’s. “Well, your mama is right.”
Joseph’s shoulders dropped. “Come on, Ponto, let’s go back to the nursery.”
“Tell you what,” Lord Brooks said as the two moved toward the door. “It looks like it might snow again in the next couple of days. If it does, I’ll come over and build a snowman with you.”
Joseph brightened a bit and left the parlor with a smile on his face.
Alice couldn’t help but smile as well. Truly, was there anything more wonderful than knowing someone else also cared for your child?
Lord Brooks was still smiling as his gaze met hers once more.
The instant heat between them was electric, sending shocks of yearning coursing through her. Alice drew in a long breath and forced her gaze away. Hadn’t they just talked about this day before last? Lord Brooks was interested only in marrying for money. More still, he would never be interested in forming a connection with the daughter of Mr. Grant.
Just then, Mrs. Clarke hurried into the room, another tea pot in her hands. “Hot water, in case you want to brew up more tea,” she said, then rested the pot next to the first.
“Thank you,” Alice said softly to her, welcoming the distraction.
As the elderly woman left the room, Alice pasted back on her social poise. “Lord Oakley, you are already acquainted with Lord Brooks, I believe?”
“Yes, we’ve met on occasion,” Lord Oakley said, and the two exchanged greetings.
Unfortunately, their greetings were short in nature and didn’t provide Alice nearly enough time to right her upended equilibrium.
“I am sorry you have come,” she said to Lord Brooks.
Only after the words left her mouth did she realize how rude she’d been. Hang her sudden agitation.
“Forgive me,” she rushed to add. “I only meant that Mr. Allen is not here, at present, and I am certain you wished to see him.”
“Do you know Lady Nightingale’s cousin well, then?” Lord Oakley asked.
Lord Brooks nodded. “We have come to know one another quite well this Christmas. Indeed, I find him to be the best man of my acquaintance.”
Good heavens.
When he spoke like that, his voice deep and sincere, it positively turned her to soup.
“He feels the same about you, Lord Brooks,” Alice found herself confessing.
