Bedfordshire, England

1822

William Darby, Viscount Summerfield, Baron Ivers, rode the last mile to Wentworth Hall full bore. The letter from his father's secretary was in his breast pocket, stained red by the sands of the Egyptian desert, smelling of salt from the passage across the Mediterranean, and tattered at the folds from Will's frequent reading of it.

The earl has suffered a terrible fit of apoplexy that has left him paralyzed. You are needed at home, sir.

In the six years since Will had left Wentworth Hall to take his grand tour of Europe -- a tour his father had urged a restless young man of two and twenty to take before duty and responsibility claimed him -- he'd received many letters from his father. In the first letters, the earl had exulted in the sights Will had seen and the adventures he'd experienced, as related weekly in a letter home. The tour was supposed to have lasted two years, but Will had gone on to India instead of coming home as expected, and his father's letters had changed in tone. While the earl still enjoyed the tales of Will's travels, he often reminded his son of his responsibility to his family and as the future Earl of Bedford, and asked him to come home.

Will always wrote that he would, and truly, he always meant to come home. But invariably he'd meet a fellow traveler who would feed his wanderlust with a tale of the Himalayas or searching for treasure in the oases of Africa, and Will would be off again.

In the last two years, his father's letters had cajoled and pleaded with Will to come home and marry as he ought, to provide an heir before it was too late, before the earl was gone. His father professed a longing to hold his grandchi