Now Gabe grinned. “Hey, that’s Earl. Just tell him to buzz off.”

Randall gave a short sharp laugh. “I’d as soon tell a pit bull to play nice.”

“So buzz off yourself. I don’t see any chain around your neck. Invisible leash, is it?”

Randall almost unconsciously tugged at his collar. “Feels like it sometimes.” He didn’t say anything else, just concentrated on the road. Morning traffic around Heathrow was a good excuse for silence. But in fact, he had to admit Gabe had touched a raw nerve.

The death of Randall’s parents in a car crash when he was eight had made him heir to the earldom and all its rights and responsibilities. His fearsome grandfather had left him in no doubt that he expected both sides of the equation to be kept up. Randall had learned estate management so that he could run the ancient family domains. He’d loved that part of his life. But it hadn’t been profitable. At least not profitable enough. He’d also needed the skills to run the publishing empire by which the Stantons stayed one step ahead of the game.

He enjoyed that work, too, but he hadn’t bargained for it eating away so much of his life. He’d bowed his head to the burdens, but sometimes a voice whispered in his ear that there was more to life than this; that it would be great to toss his cap over the windmill and forget the duties for awhile.

And when he was with his charming, light-hearted, devil-may-care cousin, the whisper threatened to become a roar.

Now his hands tightened on the steering wheel, so slightly that only the sharp-eyed Gabe could have noticed.

“So when do we hear of your engagement?” Gabe asked him.