1814

"Lucas, you must return home."Those words preyed on my mind as I rode into the county of my birth. That my father had not seen fit to explain why I need to return home was a trifle annoying, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. I had never been summoned home in such an abrupt manner before, and why had my usually economic-minded father sent such a brief note?

I reined my mount to a halt on the hill, overlooking Bywood Hall, the home of my family for the past six generations. The clouds parted, allowing the sun's rays to illuminate the hall. The white limestone was nearly blinding in the light and certainly added to the impressive presence of the house.

To the right was the Ramsey estate, Braglow. That family had not been in the county for as long as mine, but my father and Mr. Ramsey were old school friends. Hardly a week passed, when I was growing up, that we were not there or they were at the Hall. It was as familiar to me as my own home, and the occupants were as close as family.

A feeling of contentment, such as I hadn't felt in several years, settled around me. "Home," I said, patting the horse's neck. He tossed his head with impatience, and I let out a laugh. "Yes, I understand. You want your feed. Let's go."

It only took the slightest nudge from my heels, and we were off. In a matter of minutes, Bywood Hall loomed above us, and I took a moment to appreciate the stately structure that had been my childhood home. Even though I was now two-and-twenty, it made me feel insignificant.

A state of mind my elder brother, George, would no doubt encourage me to indulge in more often.

Dismounting, I handed the reins to the stable boy, who rushed to take charge of my chestnut. "He has had a long, hard ride," I advised the young man. "See he is rewarded with some grain and then returned to the Rose and Crown in the morning."

"Yes, Mister Lucas," the stable boy said, tugging the brim of his cap before leading the horse to the stable.

For a hired hack, he had been well-trained and energetic, which was remarkable. Though, I was more than ready to have my own mount, Phaeton, to ride now that I was home. I could hardly wait for the opportunity to race across the countryside.

Taking a deep breath, I approached the front door, the feeling of apprehension returning once again. It didn't seem necessary to knock or ring the bell when it was all too easy to open the door myself. I shrugged my riding jacket off as I strode through the entry hall, the sound of my boots on the tiled white floor echoing in the space.

A few moments later, Butler came hurrying forward. "Mister Lucas! Allow me to take your coat and hat, sir. I was not informed you were to return today and I did not hear the bell. My sincerest apologies."

"You didn't hear the bell because I did not ring it, Butler." I sent a smile at the middle-aged man who had served my family for as long as I could remember. How delighted I had been as a child that our butler's name was "Butler." "And I didn't send word ahead. I didn't think there would be any need."

"I will have Mrs. Stokes prepare your room for you right away," he promised, sending a look behind me. "Your valet will be arriving soon?"

I waved a dismissive hand. "I found Waverly didn't suit me long ago, Butler." Waverly's dislike of travel had been reason enough for me to send him packing within days of our leaving Bywood Hall. "I believe he's doing rather well for himself in London, employed by some viscount...or was it a marquess?"

Butler focused on me, a horrified expression on his face. "You don't mean to say you have no valet!" He straightened his shoulders as though he were going to take on some challenge. In reality, he was: me. "Mister Bywood and I will remedy this at once."

"I wish you would not."

And I was completely serious. I had managed well enough without the pretension of a valet for two years now. Shaking his head, Butler called for the footman, Thomas. "Shall I announce you to your father? I believe he is working in his office."

"No need for formality. I will find him on my own."

My response clearly disappointed Butler, but his training prevented him from saying anything. He merely pressed his lips together and inclined his head. He flinched when I patted him on the shoulder as I went by him. A glance to the side showed Thomas was fighting to keep his face stoic and free from emotion.

I laughed as I set off down the hallway. Maybe it was mean-spirited of me to tease the servants like that, but their general stiff bearing got on my nerves. It seemed ridiculous that even here in the country it was necessary for the servants to behave in such a manner. After all, I had grown up with most of the younger servants and knew them well.

Finding my father's office, I rapped my knuckles against the wood. A moment later I heard his voice call out for me to enter. "Hello, Father," I said with forced merriment when I entered the dark-paneled room. It was a place I had always disliked in the house—far too dark for my tastes. "You sent for me, I believe?"

Father gave a start, lifting his gaze from the numerous papers that were scattered on his desk. "Lucas!" he exclaimed, pushing his chair back. He rose and came around the desk to shake my hand. He embraced me, squeezing the back of my neck with an unexpected fondness. "Why did you not send word you would be coming home? I've been wondering if my note even reached you!"

"It seemed quicker just to come." Though I now towered over him, being six-foot-two-inches tall, he still seemed larger than life. "Your letter followed me all over Europe, I think. I finally received it not long after I landed in Paris, a fortnight ago."

At my explanation, my father's face darkened. "I'm fairly certain traveling all over the world was not what your great-uncle intended for you to do when he left you his fortune." He returned to his seat behind the desk. He gestured to the chairs that were across from him. "You'll find yourself bankrupt if you keep it up."

"So you have warned me many times before." I pushed down the annoyance that was an instinctive reaction. My "fortune," as the family called it, was a mere eight hundred pounds a year. The majority of the sum I had invested, on the advice of a few close friends, and the rest I used to have a Grand Tour. Despite my father's implications, I had planned it all with the greatest of care and was in no danger of finding myself without funds. "I have it in hand."

I was in no way a wastrel, though I did enjoy spending my time with friends. A wager or two could not be frowned upon, especially since I made sure to honor all my debts as soon as possible. Things became tight every now and again, but no more harm was done than that."

A father worries," Father told me, hearing the pique in my voice. "You spend so little time at home, Luke."

An odd sentiment, coming from him. We were by no means a demonstrative family, and his embrace when I had first entered had been extreme. "If I hadn't inherited Great-Uncle Bywood's wealth, I would be gone anyway, given how a second son has need of making his own way in the world." I tilted my head, considering what might have been. "I think I would have liked the sea, though."

I knew well enough that if I had been meant for the Navy, I would have begun at a young age. From the time I went to Eton, I had been given subtle hints to develop an interest in either the law or the church. I had given it my best effort, but neither had interested me at all. The unexpected inheritance from my great-uncle had been welcome.

It had been unexpected because there were many cousins who had been ahead of me, all of whom had apparently managed to upset my great-uncle so much he had named me his heir. Then, his death occurred before he could change it to someone else, if he had ever intended to do so.

"The sea? Ridiculous! You would have gone into the church," Father said, getting my attention once more. "Your mother would not have stood for anything else."

Barely keeping a grimace of displeasure from my face, I could only be glad my great-uncle's passing had kept me from that career. I had no inclination towards that sort of calling, though I had nothing against those who chose to preach and sermonize for a living. I enjoyed a book now and again, but I could hardly be described as bookish. In fact, it had taken all my charm and good nature to get through university without disgraceful marks."

In any event, I did inherit a fortune and did not need to pursue a career," I said, clearing my throat. No use arguing over a future that had not happened and was not going to happen. "I have a great deal to tell you, Father, of all the places I have visited."

"Yes, your letters were few and far between. Your mother worried constantly." Father shifted his gaze to the closest chair. "Will you sit down, Luke? I will get a crick in my neck if I have to look up at you for much longer."

Obligingly, I selected a chair to sit upon and then stretched my legs. There had been yet another note of disapproval in his remark about my letters, and I wasn't about to let it slide. "I was only gone for ten months, and I sent plenty of letters while I was away, letting you know where I was."

"True, but you never said you were going to France."

I shrugged my shoulders. "It would have been a shame to miss out on the sights in Paris, now that Napoleon has been dealt with. I wasn't in any kind of danger, and I wasn't foolish enough to go there alone."

"Your mother still worried. I will leave it to her to ring a peal over you. You know we never approved of this expedition."

In fact, they had spent two months trying to talk me out of it. But I had wanted to see the world, and I had enjoyed every minute of my travels. If my traveling companion hadn't fallen ill in France, I would have spent another six months exploring the treasures of Europe.

"It's the accepted practice to have a Grand Tour," I said with as much mildness as possible.

"A word now and again, more often than those you sent, was all we would have asked for." Father waved his hand in a dismissive way. "No matter. It's done, and you're here now."

Which meant both of my parents were still unhappy with me, but they wouldn't talk about it anymore now I was home. I cleared my throat. "I had meant to be back for part of the Season, but...well, Napoleon was defeated and all that. Philly must have had a marvelous time while she was in London. Did you find some gentleman to take her?"

Father shook his head at me. "You mustn't speak of your sister like she was some object to be passed on. But, in answer to your question, yes. Philippa accepted the offer of a respectable young man by the name of Bartholomew Talbot. They are to be married this autumn, once he comes into his inheritance."

"Good for Philly," I said with a smile. My younger sister could be a joy to be around, when she was in a good mood, and any gentleman who had caught her was to be congratulated. "I suppose you must be glad to have the last girl finally taken off of your hands. No more Seasons in London to sponsor."

"Lucas Bywood, you may keep such comments to yourself. I suppose you haven't heard the other news, either. Your brother is married now. He and his wife returned from their wedding trip just a few days ago."

"George is married? This is news! Who is the poor girl he's gotten himself leg-shackled to?"

"Again, Lucas, mind your tongue. He married a young lady of wealth and family who he met in London this Season, a Miss Rosamund Lamotte. I expect you to treat her with kindness. She's a sweet girl."

Holding up my hand as though swearing a vow, I said, "I will be the model of a proper gentleman and treat her as my sister."

"That's hardly reassuring, Lucas. I've seen how you choose to tease your sisters."

"All right, Father. I will treat her better than my sisters. But you didn't summon me from my journeys just to tell me the family news, did you?"

Something in my father's expression changed right before he glanced down at his papers. "There's time enough for that later. You've only just arrived and haven't even freshened yourself up from your journey. You must do so before your mother demands you dance attendance on her."

"Oh, Mama won't mind the smell of the stable, as she will undoubtedly smell of it herself before she dresses for dinner. I will just wait until then to get cleaned up. I did not get too dusty on the ride here."

While Father was a superb horseman, it was Mother who had instilled the love of riding in me and my siblings. My fondest memory of her was of her on her horse, laughing at something said. She would rather be outdoors on the back of her beloved Sprite than sit by the fireside with needlework in her hand.

His lips flattened into something bordering on anger for only a second, but I didn't miss it. "Is there something wrong, Father?" I asked, feeling the worry that had begun to subside come surging back.

"I'm afraid your mother took a tumble early this spring.