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“He said he would disinherit you, didn’t he?”

“He won’t. He’s too soft for that.”

“Do you want to push him to find out?” Pierce demanded.

Lucas harrumphed and scowled out the window. Now the scenery didn’t look as good as it did a moment ago. Talking about the pressure of finding a wife he didn’t want was enough to put him into a bad mood. Why did Pierce have to mention it? His closest and oldest friend was one of the few people who knew the real Lucas Dashwood, and even he was pushing him to get married.

At the very least, he should pretend to be trying, but Lucas just couldn’t be bothered to follow through. Hopefully, he could spin a tale about not being able to find anyone suitable, and his father would accept that. Otherwise, he could end up with an engagement he couldn’t get out of again or be disinherited. Or both; Lucas knew his father would follow through on it if he could.

Hopefully, his father wouldn’t have said anything about it to Lord Derbyshire; otherwise, the marquess would be doing his own matchmaking.

They finally entered the grounds and pulled up outside the house. Pierce jumped out first, whistling as he looked past the house.

“Now that is one view I could get used to. Where’s the garden?”

“It slopes down. The house was built practically into the side of the valley.”

“How has the house not slipped into the gorge?”

“Good architecture, I suppose.” Lucas smiled when he saw a familiar figure leave the house behind a servant. “There’s the marquess.”

Lord Derbyshire was a remarkable figure, a handsome man at the age of fifty. Tall and broadly built, his iron-grey hair was immaculate. He had a strong nose, a strong jaw, and the warmest brown eyes Lucas had ever seen. His father’s friend had spent most of his life just doing what he wanted, and he chose when to settle down. It had worked out well for him to go at his own pace.

Lucas wanted that for himself as well. Why couldn’t he be more like Derbyshire.

He approached the older man and bowed.

“My Lord.”

“Lucas, my boy.” Derbyshire grinned and clasped Lucas’ hand. “I’m glad you could come. How is your mother?”

“She’s still a little under the weather, but I’m sure she’ll be better soon.”

“I hope she will recover. I’d like to have your parents here someday.”

“I’ll let them know.” Lucas turned and beckoned Pierce over. “This is my friend, Pierce Cowper, son of Sir Frances Cowper.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of the Cowper family.” Derbyshire stuck his hand out towards Pierce. “Welcome, Mr Cowper.”

“My Lord.” Pierce looked unsure whether to bow or shake the man’s hand. He chose the latter. “Thank you for allowing me to come along as well.”

“Well, it’s only fair that Lucas had a friend with him. And we have plenty of room. The more, the merrier, my wife said.”

“And where is Lady Derbyshire?” Lucas asked. “Are we going to meet her before dinner tonight?”

“I’m sure you will. She’s helping her niece and her friend get settled in.” Derbyshire signalled at a nearby footman. “Your luggage will be taken to your rooms. Let’s go inside and have something to drink. It’s a long journey from Milton Keynes.”

Lucas couldn’t agree more with that. And he was dying for a drink.

They entered the house, Pierce’s mouth still open as he looked around, almost forgetting to give his coat and hat to the butler. Lucas smiled at his friend’s awe. It was certainly a magnificent place.

Then he spied someone in the drawing room, sitting on the settee and seeming to be talking to someone out of sight. She was petite and slight, with black hair pinned up on her head to reveal a delicately-shaped neck and smooth, pale skin. With that smile of hers, she did look very attractive. Definitely pleasant to look at.

Maybe this would be a good place to find a wife, after all. If not, then he could certainly have a bit of fun. The woman he could see certainly looked like she could have a lot of fun.

“Let’s go and have a drink in my study,” Derbyshire declared, leading the way down the hall. “We can talk without having to censure what we say around the ladies. Then you’ve got time until dinner. Does eight sound good to you?”

“Absolutely fine.” Lucas followed him. “We’ll be looking forward to it.”


Tags: Lucy Langton Historical