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K it sat behind the desk of his study in his father’s house on South Audley Street. He’d always found it easier to meet with his man of business here than in his own rooms. That worthy, Mr. Baxter, now sat across from Kit.

Baxter rubbed his nose. “I can’t account for the difference, sir.”

Kit glanced at the column of numbers concerning a minor property he had owned for several years, but had not visited since his first and only inspection.

Despite last year’s bad weather, the small estate had shown an increase in profits at harvest time, and now there had been more income from an unexpected source.

“Whose idea was it to plant winter rye?”

“It would have to have been Mr. Stuttart’s.”

Kit wondered what had got into the steward that after so many years he was making drastic changes to the property. The stimulus in the estate’s revenues had allowed improvements to be made to the house and tenants’ cottages. “You said that Stuttart wouldn’t allow his wages to be raised?”

“No, sir. He said the extra was better spent on the estate and village.”

This was all extremely strange. Kit had never known estate managers to be particularly philanthropic. It was almost as if the man had become a new person. Kit shrugged. “Very well, let me know if he changes his mind.”

Baxter placed his hands on the chair arms. “I will. If you’ve no further questions right now . . .”

“You’re free to go. ”

“Thank you, sir.”

Leaning back in his chair, Kit tried to form an image of Rose Hill and could not.

Perhaps he’d been remiss in not visiting the property, though he had given the steward a great deal of latitude in handling the affairs.

This was the first time there had been a surplus.

Well, as the man had written, pouring it back into the estate was probably the best idea.

After all, Kit certainly didn’t need the blunt.

He should make a point of planning a visit sometime in June after the Season wound down. He was tempted to go now. Unfortunately he’d promised his parents he’d start looking for a wife this year.

An image of laughing gray eyes floated through his mind.

Last year, Kit had been to every entertainment in both the main and Little Seasons and had not seen her. His inquiries about Barham produced the information that he was not coming to Town unless his vote was needed in the Lords.

Perhaps he should write to Barham, but God only knew how Mary’s brother would take that, and Kit did not wish to approach the issue of Lady Mary in a letter. He could have stopped in at Barham’s estate, but had not done that either.

Kit should have danced with her when she’d come out, yet how could he have known back then that years later she’d still be the only woman he was truly interested in, and she had always been surrounded by her court, never seeming to notice him.

Nevertheless, he should have approached her or searched for her before now.

The devil .

Kit pitched his pen across the room. Why was he dithering?

Even if Lady Mary was taken, surely he could find someone he could bear to look at over the breakfast table day in and day out.

Year in and year out. All he required was a female who didn’t twitter and could hold a conversation about something other than the weather.

He shuddered at the thought of marrying any of the young ladies he’d met over the past year.

They’d bore him to death within a month.

Probably a week. He almost wished his mother was the type who would make a list of eligible ladies, but she had married for love and expected her children to do so as well.

Damnation. He’d just have to put his mind to it. Someone was bound to come along. Or perhaps he should find an excuse to visit Barham.

A knock sounded at the door. “Come. ”

Marcus, Earl of Evesham, strolled in, a wicked grin on his face. Something was up. “Have you heard the news?”

Kit waved his friend to a chair in front of his desk, then handed him a glass of wine. “What news?”

“Serena delivered a girl.”

Kit spit his mouthful of wine back in the glass. Before Robert Beaumont had married the former Lady Serena Weir, he had been the most notorious rake in London. Now he would have a daughter to protect from men such as he was. “You’re joking me?”

“Not at all. Phoebe received word to-day.”

Kit gave a bark of laughter. “Cabined, cribbed, and confined. It serves him right. She’ll run him ragged.”

“Serena writes that the baby already has him wrapped around her fingers.” Marcus chuckled. “And he’s preparing to talk to Angelo about teaching her to use a short sword.”

“I’d love to see Angelo’s face when he receives that request.” In fact, Kit would make a point of it. They could sell tickets.

If anything, Marcus’s grin broadened. “They’ll be in Town in a few weeks, and Phoebe is planning a small get together. Wivenly and his bride will be there as well.”

Life for all of them was changing, and Kit was beginning to feel left out. He was the last of his Oxford friends who was unmarried. By the end of the year, he’d be the only one without a child. He’d have to decide on a bride soon.

Rose Hill, Rosebury

Mary laid down her pen and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Finally all the accounts were in order. She stood, arched her back.

Just as she reached for the bell-pull, a knock came on the door to the office, and Simons entered with a tea tray. “You’ve been cooped up here for so long, my lady, Mrs. Enderson thought you might like some tea.”

“Indeed I would.” Mary smiled. Since the first day, the servants had treated her as if she’d been their mistress for years.

They’d wanted and needed direction, which unfortunately did nothing to ease the guilt she felt in living here.

“In fact, I’ve just finished for the day. How is Mr. Stuttart doing? ”

“Much better, my lady. The plaster you had Cook make seemed to do the trick.”

The poor man had fallen ill with a series of lung complaints lasting all winter. Finally Mary had dug into the books her great-grandmother had kept on household remedies and come up with something that seemed to be working. “Please ask Lady Eunice to join me.”

Simons bowed and left, closing the door behind him. A few minutes later, Eunice entered the room. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. As soon as Mr. Stuttart is able to work again, we should make plans to leave. The upcoming Season will be all the explanation we need.”

Eunice sat, poured a cup of tea and handed it to Mary. “Are you sure you wish to go to Town this year?”

Mary sank into a large leather chair. “No, but I think I have been here long enough, and I have a feeling I should move on, before we are found out, or Gawain finds me.”

Eunice stared out the window for a few moments with her brow furrowed before responding, “I see your point, but the fact remains that you are safe here.”

Tears threatened to clog Mary’s throat. She couldn’t wait much longer.

All her friends were married and having babies.

If she didn’t wed soon, the chance to have a family of her own might be lost to her.

“Don’t you see, Aunt Eunice? I want to marry.

It is as if life is passing me by. If I can find someone to marry, once I am betrothed, the court will have to act.

My uncle cannot arbitrarily withhold his consent. ”

“You could allow Mama to make a match for you.”

“No. I want to fall in love. You had the opportunity to wed the one you loved, as did my mother and brother. I just want the same chance.” Surely there was a man who could love her for herself and not her dowry or her face. Someone kind, who would love and cherish her and their children.

“Yes. I see your point.” Eunice took a sip of tea. “I shall write to Mama.”

Mary put her cup down. “I’m going into Rosebury. Would you like to come with me?”

Her aunt nodded distractedly, as if she had something important on her mind. “Shall we walk? ”

What could Eunice be thinking of? Her late husband? Perhaps, Mary thought, she should not have mentioned him. “Unless you’d rather take the gig?”

“Not at all.” Eunice rose quickly. “Give me a moment to change my shoes and I’ll meet you in the hall.”

After Eunice left, Mary called for her hat, cloak, and gloves. A brisk walk would do them both some good.

A half hour later they reached the edge of the market town.

Mary waved at one of the ladies strolling on the other side of the street.

If it weren’t for her deception, she would have been happy to call Rose Hill and Rosebury home.

The town was lovely and the people welcoming.

This had also been the first time in two years that she’d been free from her cousin’s harassment.

Being able to walk and ride without fear of being abducted by Gawain had been a blessing.

Still, she was sure he would eventually find her as he always had before.

A carriage carrying the squire’s wife, Lady Brownly, her eldest daughter, Diana, and another lady, whom Mary was unable to see clearly, pulled alongside her and Eunice.

Lady Brownly smiled warmly. “If we had known you were also coming to Rosebury, I would have been happy to fetch you.”

Mary returned the smile. The lady and her daughter had been the first ones to welcome her to the area. “Thank you, but it has been a while since I’ve had a good walk, and I needed it.”

“My lady, I must tell you my news!” Diana Brownly practically bounced on the seat as she spoke. “My godmamma—actually she is Mama’s godmother, but she seems like mine—is sponsoring me for a London Season.”

“Not if you act like a jack-in-the-box I won’t.” The caustic voice belonged to the unseen lady.

Diana immediately settled down, but none of the joy left her face.

Mary laughed. “She is right. You must not act like a hoyden in Town.”