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Middlethorpe, looked up from his deviled kidneys and replied to Lord Uffham, his host's son. "Why not? It promises to be a fine day." He turned to the young lady at the table. "Would you accompany us, Lady Anne?"
    She was fair and slight and, though not shy, very quiet. She gave him a fleeting smile. "I would enjoy that, my lord."
    She was his intended bride.
    Nothing was settled yet. He hadn't spoken formally to her father, the Duke of Arran, who sat at the table immersed in his copy of the Monthly Magazine. Everyone knew the road they were on, however. Before he left Lea Park, he would propose and be accepted.
    It was an excellent match. Anne belonged to one of the highest families in the land, and her portion was suitably grand. Both his family and hers were well acquainted and enthusiastic about the union. She was sweet-natured, clever without being bookish, and pretty in a pale, quiet way. He didn't at all mind the limp.
    Francis was aware of a twinge of irritation at the very smooth propriety of it all, but he dismissed that as foolishness. Just because his friends became entangled in adventures and passions didn't mean he should do so. He had always known that wasn't his road in life.
    He had come into his property and title at the age of twelve. Since then, he had been the sole reliance of his mother and three sisters. Certainly, his mother had ruled his life while he was a child and still ran Thorpe Priory with smooth efficiency, but her welfare depended upon him. His sisters, thank heavens, were suitably married now, and thus off his hands.
    He had always known that it was his duty to guard his health, use his wealth wisely, improve his property, and marry suitably to provide heirs. He had probably delayed marriage rather longer than was wise. If he were to die without an heir, the estate would pass to a distant cousin with a large family of his own. In that event, his mother would lose all connection with the home she had built and cherished with his father.
    It would have been pleasant, however, he thought wistfully, to have had one or two adventures in his life. His friend Nicholas Delaney had traveled the world and been in grave danger twice before he settled down....
    He realized he was being addressed and turned with a smile to Anne.
    "Would you object, my lord, if we went a little out of our way? I have promised some books to the school in Kings Lea and would like to deliver them myself."
    "Of course not. Improving tomes? Bibles?" He was teasing but she answered him seriously.
    "They are already well supplied with those. How could you think otherwise? No, these are rhyme stories for the younger ones, and a few books of geography and such. All volumes that our schoolroom here will not need for many years, especially as Uffham refuses his duty." She directed her solemn reproach at her oldest brother.
    "Good grief, Annie, I'm not yet twenty-five! Give a fellow a chance to kick up his heels before you shackle him for life."
    They all laughed, but Francis reflected that he was only just turned twenty-five, yet no one seemed to consider him too young for shackles....
    "Marriage is not a shackle," Lady Anne countered with gentle firmness and a slight, betraying flicker of her eyes toward Francis. So perhaps she did catch the point.
    Lucky Uffham. Uffham's future was clear, too—marriage and a dukedom—but at least he had no need to hurry. He even had two healthy younger brothers to buffer his conscience.
    Quiet servants brought fresh coffee and removed used and cold dishes as the family lingered, making plans for the day. The duke's secretary came quietly in with the personal letters contained in the post bag, and they were distributed. Francis was surprised to find one for himself, for he had given his mother complete authority to handle estate matters in his absence and to open personal correspondence.
    This letter had not been sent on from Thorpe Priory, however, but addressed to him here. He felt a prick of