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THE FIRST week of my vacation passed without much to comment on.

I spent my days alternating between going through the paperwork I had brought with me and spending time with Charles, who had always proved himself an easy source of entertainment.

Wandering the massive gardens, exploring the woods, rambling around the lawn or reading books near the pond—all of it was enjoyable in those early days.

Even work was made more tolerable, Charles often napping on the chaise longue or helping me sort through papers, but I still could not crack Arthur.

I saw him often. At meals, of course, but he was also perpetually within sight of my balcony.

There was a bench in the garden, a good twenty feet from my balcony, and in the evenings Arthur would sit there and smoke, watch the stars, his pale hair gleaming in the moonlight.

It almost felt like a taunt, as though he expected me to come down and join him, to perhaps even get the nerve up to speak to him, but I refused to make the first move.

In all honesty, I was still wounded. It may have been immature, even foolish, but I had expected Arthur to at least pretend to accept me, even if he secretly disliked me.

The thought that I was going to spend the summer staying at an awkward distance from Arthur was a decided distraction from the pleasant vacation I had foreseen for myself.

Six days after I arrived, however, a storm blew in from the sea and brought with it a change both in weather and fortune.

It was Saturday afternoon and the rain was relentless, thunder rumbling every so often seemingly as a reminder that we were housebound, and Charles and I had just settled into a game of cards in the sitting room when Arthur appeared, looking quite serious.

“What are you two doing tonight?” he asked, and there was something in his voice that told me he expected us to be doing nothing.

Charles and I looked at each other, a silent conversation taking place before Charles twisted in his seat to look at his brother. “Why? I suppose we can find a three-man card game if you would like to join us.”

“It will need to be a four-man game,” Arthur said, stepping into the room further; I realized as soon as he was out of the doorway that he was holding a letter in one hand. “James Wright is going to be here by suppertime. He conveniently forgot to write until he was already in the county.”

I looked at Charles, and he frowned. “James Wright is… is he a colonel now, Arthur?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, looking down at the letter. “Colonel James Wright is the youngest son of the Lord of Westshire. He is our cousin on our mother’s side.” This last explanation was for me, more than he’d said to me in a week, and I was surprised to be included in the conversation at all.

“James was a playmate of ours as children,” Charles said, continuing his brother’s explanation. “He stops in every summer even if our welcome is… tepid…. He’s dreadfully boring and terribly full of himself, which I suppose is why you’d like us to distract him with a game of cards, Arthur.”

“All I would like is to not be alone with him,” Arthur said, and I realized for the first time that he was actually asking a favor, and not just trying to be a good host. “Dinner, card games, a quiet night. He’s on his way to Plymouth for military business, so I understand this is merely a stopover. ”

“An inconvenient stopover,” Charles said. “And let me guess, he only informed you when he arrived in Taunton.”

“That’s less than an hour from here,” I said, surprised. “He really didn’t give you any prior notice?”

“No, that’s precisely what James does,” Arthur said.

“He likes to surprise us with his visits so we can’t say no to him.

” This time he looked at me and I could read on his face that as little as he appreciated my presence, I at least had not been a last-minute addition to the estate.

He had been given time to anticipate my arrival and prepare, something James had clearly robbed him of.

With a man like Arthur Ashford, it was clear to anyone who took the time to notice that an unexpected guest was the last thing he wanted on his estate.

“You don’t know him in the slightest, do you? ”

“The name sounds familiar, but I can’t say I would know him if I saw him,” I admitted. “I’m not particularly good with recalling the faces of the nobility. After all, I’ve spent most of my life in deference to them.”

“Point taken,” Arthur said, and once again I was struck by the sensation that he was amused by me, a revelation that was both a relief and infuriating.

If Arthur could just allow himself to like me—as I knew I was exceedingly likable by nearly all accounts—this summer would be so much more pleasant.

It was my own charisma against whatever terrible thing my mentor had done to him, and at times it seemed my personality was winning him over before he reminded himself of my dreadful profession and the man who had trained me.

“So, are you two going to join the dinner party, or are you going to leave me to the wolves?”

Another brief look between myself and Charles before Charles sighed, clearly pretending that he had no desire to help his brother despite the visible twinkle in his eye. “I suppose we could put aside our thrilling plans to help you keep James distracted until he sleeps.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, taking his pocket watch out and studying it briefly. “I need to inform Felix and the kitchen that we have another guest. You know James will take any shortcomings back to his mother and say that the estate is in disrepair since our parents passed.”

“Shortcomings?” I asked, and Arthur nodded.

“The wrong food, the wrong cutlery, even giving him a room on the wrong side of the house could create unwanted attention. James is… shallow, and those things matter to him. I have no desire to be the grist for some rumor mill among the Wright clan.” He looked at the two of us for a moment, thoughtful, before giving an awkward half-bow and backing out of the room.

“He’s very strange,” I said, and Charles laughed, looking at his hand of cards as we resumed our game. “Am I incorrect?”

“No, but I think you’re overlooking how nervous you make him,” Charles said. “Your very existence is challenging his preconceived notions about lawyers. He enjoys your company, even if he’s still pretending as though he doesn’t.”

“He makes me nervous,” I said, although I doubted that Arthur was nervous for the same reasons I was.

My nerves were born entirely out of attraction, the fact that Arthur was one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen, and that merely acknowledging that was enough to put me in serious danger if anyone discovered those feelings.

I had always been smart, careful, determined not to be caught, and I would not allow Arthur Ashford to undo my hard work in that arena.

As nervous as he made me, though, I could not imagine that he would fathom where my nerves came from in comparison to his own.

“I suppose we should dress for dinner after this game?”

JAMES WRIGHT proved to be quite the punctual guest despite his lack of communication beforehand.

I had barely finished doing up the buttons on my shirt when Felix was at my door, rapping on it insistently.

“Mr. Whitmore, I’m sorry, but Colonel Wright has arrived and I’m to fetch you and Charles immediately. ”

“You may open the door, Felix,” I said, having rapidly discovered that I was exceptionally fond of the manservant.

He was bright, funny, and good at his job, but above all else, he wasn’t hesitant in the slightest to speak up when he felt Arthur was being unreasonable.

At my invitation, he opened the door and stepped into the room, lifting my waistcoat from where I had it hung over the back of my desk chair.

“Is Arthur down with the colonel at the moment?”

“Yes. Alone. And I’m afraid that Arthur isn’t the most patient with Colonel Wright at the best of times.

That’s why he’s begun this trick of letting him know when he’s already in the neighborhood.

” He held the coat up and helped me into it, and when I turned to face him, he was looking at me with a slightly grave expression.

“It will be an unpleasant evening. I’m terribly sorry. ”

“He’s truly that bad?”

“He’s… very obnoxious,” Felix said, with the most diplomacy I’d heard him use until this point. After doing up the last button on my waistcoat, he patted me lightly on the chest. “Good luck, Tom.”

“Don’t say good luck,” I groaned, already dreading what was going to take place.

Felix and I left my room, Felix turning left to head to Charles’s suite and I making my way to the stairs.

I could hear Colonel Wright before I was even near the dining room, the man’s voice damn near a shout.

At first, I assumed he was actually yelling, only to find that it was just the natural volume of his voice, the first clue I had that Felix had been dead serious in his condemnation of the man.