As the crow flew, he could practically throw a rock and hit the fence where his land adjoined Charles’s. It took quite a bit longer to travel to Roland Manor by carriage, and he was expected that afternoon. He always behaved as was expected.
In that, he’d resolved to be the exact opposite of his brother, Bertie, who’d been extravagant and wild. He’d killed himself during a drunken horse race with a royal cousin. The cousin had been gravely injured in the process, so the name Watson was being disparaged throughout the kingdom. Until the Prince Regent stopped fuming over the debacle, Luke and the Barrett title were in disgrace in the highest circles.
Because of the predicament, he couldn’t figure out why Charles had suggested the betrothal to Penny. It was likely because Charles—after his antics as a young man—was as averse to scandal as Luke declared himself to be.
When Charles had approached him about an engagement, they’d had a lengthy discussion about moral rectitude and public reputation. They’d heartily concurred that their families had had enough ignominy and dishonor. Charles had been adamant that he would only consent to the marriage if Luke could swear there would be no fast living or improprieties.
Luke had vowed that he would never commit a contemptable act, would never shame himself or Penny.
In the past, he’d never exhibited a single wicked proclivity. Up until he’d met Libby Carstairs, he hadn’t assumed he possessed any. A man was judged by his relatives though, and after Bertie’s many misadventures, he had a lot of cleaning up to do.
He wasn’t firmly obligated to the engagement yet. He could back out if, after further reflection, he didn’t like Penny, but short of her turning out to be deranged, he couldn’t imagine reneging. She was the precise girl an aristocrat of his station hoped to locate: pretty, rich, educated, and trained to her duties so she’d be a stellar countess.
In picking a wife, he couldn’t ask for more than that.
She was awfully young though, and he had no idea what type of life she envisioned for them. Would she want to spend their time in town attending soirees and balls? Was that what she planned? He probably ought to get his sorry behind over to Roland and find out—but he couldn’t force himself to go.
His carriage was harnessed out in the drive, his bags loaded, the driver ready to depart. He could have ridden to Roland on horseback, but he was staying the entire two weeks, so he was arriving with luggage. If an emergency arose, he could rush home, but he intended to tarry at Roland and prove to Charles—and himself—that he was the perfect choice to be the man’s son-in-law.
His own parents had been deceased since he was a boy, so he didn’t have them to guide him in the important matter of selecting a bride. He was letting Charles steer him in the proper direction. He trusted Charles, but what if Charles had made the wrong decision? What then?
His collar suddenly felt much too tight.
His qualms were all Libby’s fault. He understood that fact. He’d been fully prepared to shackle himself to Penny, and her Aunt Millicent had requested a September wedding. He’d been amenable to the quick schedule, having convinced himself that it was best not to dither.
But now, Libby had lodged herself into his head, and he simply wished he’d never agreed to the stupid party. He yearned to be in London with her instead. How could he wed Penny in ten weeks when he was so besotted with Libby that he couldn’t think straight?
Footsteps sounded in the hall, and his butler, Mr. Hobbs, entered.
“Your driver is waiting, my lord. I thought I should remind you.”
“I’m being a sluggard. I can’t seem to get moving.”
“It’s not every day a bachelor goes off to engage himself. Are you having a few jitters?”
“I guess I am,” Luke said.
Hobbs had worked at Barrett all of Luke’s life, so he was in a position to offer a personal comment. “Lord Roland is a fine man, and Lady Penny is pretty as a picture. Your parents would be delighted with this match.”
Luke smirked. “I’ll keep telling myself exactly that, and I suppose I’d better be off.”
“Have a grand time, Master Luke.” It was the affectionate term Hobbs had always used when Luke was a boy. “I shall cross my fingers that, when you return, you will be well on your way to being a husband.”
“I can’t determine if that’s a worthy goal or not. Does Lady Penny deserve the curse of having me as her spouse? If that’s to be her fate, I pity the poor girl.”
“She’ll be lucky to have you,” Hobbs loyally stated.
Luke snorted at that and trudged out to his carriage. He was the guest of honor at his apparent betrothal party, and it was being held just down the road.
“Oh, no.”
Luke glanced out the window of his carriage, and at the sight he observed, he moaned with frustration. They were rumbling up the driveway to Roland Manor, and it seemed as if the entire household was present to greet him. It meant there would be a big fuss, which he would hate.
He’d been earl for the prior year, having learned of Bertie’s death when he was off on his navy ship. He’d come home as quickly as he could manage, and he’d slid into his higher role as quietly as possible.
He hadn’t hosted any celebrations, hadn’t printed announcements in the newspapers. He wasn’t the type to tout his elevated situation. But once he departed Roland in two weeks, he’d likely be Penny’s fiancé, so the grand welcome was probably just what he should have anticipated.
Charles was at the front, Penny on one side and her Aunt Millicent on the other. Millicent was practically snuggled to Charles, as if they were married, but as far as Luke was
