"God's teeth, Harding! Are you trying to maim me?" I grumbled, adjusting the stiffly starched cloth at my neck to prevent the cravat pin poking any deeper into my skin.

The older man tugged at the lapel of my light-colored waistcoat with well-known annoyance. "You're going about this all wrong, I tell you. You should be finding yourself a bride. A lovely girl from a nice family to see to your estate and birth you strong sons."

"Really, Harding," I groaned, grabbing my formal blue tailcoat from the bed before slipping it over my shoulders. "You're nagging has become quite tiresome. It's rather like having a nursemaid in house." Shooting a glance at my reflection in the large overmantle mirror, I raked my unruly hair back from my face and frowned at the length. It had grown unfashionably long while I'd been away tending my father's feverish whims and I knew I needed to have it cut if I wished to take up old habits and acquaintances.

He folded his arms before his chest. "You have your eyes set on the lady Alice, have you not?"

I tugged at my shirt sleeves and gave him a dry look. "Fear not. I've no intention to take her for my wife."

In truth I'd discarded the thought only seconds after having considered it.

"Why then, do you continue to press your suit?" Harding demanded. "Save for her remarkable bosom and sizable dowry, the lady has yet to show a single redeeming quality."

"The chit is a bit thick," I agreed with a dark chuckle. "All she ever talked of were the latest fashions in gowns and slippers. And jewelry, of course. As I recall, her tastes were most expensive."

"You would do well not to underestimate her, my lord," he cautioned with furrowed brows. "The girl is a viper."

I felt my mood abruptly sour. Blast his untimely concern. He had no say in the matter. Though I'd accepted the Ainsworth's invitation with some reservation, I knew I had to attend. I didn't expect Harding to understand. I didn't understand it myself. I'd not disclosed my reasons to him, and given the situation, still thought better of it. What would I say? I had no idea what the bloody hell I was doing. I couldn't possibly confess to being drawn back there, that I'd use damn near any excuse to work my way into the Ainsworth's good graces – as if I'd left behind a vital part of myself after attending their summer banquet some five months ago. I couldn't. He'd think me fit for bedlam.

And what was this other than an attack of madness? I thought gloomily.

My gaze shifted away from him to scan the opulent interior of my chamber with contempt. Surely there was more to my life than this? When had it become so empty that the ache could no longer be dulled by women and drink?

"If not a young debutante," Harding effortlessly persisted, "then mayhap an older woman? Wealthy and recently widowed?"

I scowled at him.

"No? Well, there are other ways to release your pent-up desires while we commence the search for your future bride," he volunteered with a shrug. "Perhaps a visit to a courtesan of superior class would be better suited to your needs? I heard Madame Du Bois is a woman of not only singular beauty, but varied talents."

"No, dammit! I don't want that!" I snapped and saw Harding grin.

"There's more, something you're not telling me." His eyes narrowed speculatively as I tried to school my expression back into its wonted mask. "I'll know what it is."

Glowering, I tugged on the chain of my silver pocket watch, catching it deftly in my palm before flipping open the finely etched casing. I studied it quickly and stuffed it back in my waistcoat pocket with a curse. The timepiece showed it was already seven-twenty. Lady Alice was well sought-after by men of the ton and would undoubtedly have a full dance card by the time I arrived. Hell, so much for being punctual. I had wanted to arrive at the hour appointed and claim first dance, now I feared my tardiness had cost me that advantage. Without those terms of intimacy, I would be forced to endure the introduction and mindless conversation of the gaggle of unwed ladies promenading the room.

Irritation crossed my gaze and I muttered a string of creative expletives as I looked down into the crinkly eyes of my outspoken valet. I shook my head. "I've no time to suffer your criticisms and blatant prying, I'm already late by near an hour."

"Through no fault of mine," he said with a laugh that was more a snort. "If you'd not laid waste to the day drinking and gambling at White's, you'd have had your lady wife ripe with child by now."

If I had been fortunate enough to have one, I sensed the unspoken jab and leveled him with a withering look. Clenching my jaw until I felt the muscles tick, I roughly adjusted my navy pocket square, and snatching my gloves from above the hearth, slapped them against my palm. "I may haply follow your advice, old man, but I would prefer you not hover about awaiting my return." My voice was thick with sarcasm as I crossed to my chamber door. "Take the rest of the night off. I can undress myself. Your mother-henning is wearing me thin."

"I resent that, my lord," he shouted down the hall after me with undignified familiarity. "I promised your father I'd see you wed."

I shook my head and walked briskly from my London townhouse, near the edge of Regent's Park, to the carriage that had drawn up outside. Startling the young footman scurrying to my aid, I slammed the heavy door behind me and tightened my coat about my chest before quickly descending the polished limestone steps. The air had taken on a chill and would grow colder still once night had completely fallen. With a nod to the coachman, I stepped eagerly into the heated carriage and eased back into the wide leather seat, thinking I'd grown soft since being injured in battle and being honorably discharged from my infantry soon thereafter. For the plush cushions and padded backrest were a welcome luxury after four long days in the saddle.

Sighing, I stretched my legs out in front of me as the carriage rolled down the cobblestone drive. The servants had become in many ways lax, busying themselves with only minimal duties. Harding, for all his needling, hadn't been wrong. I was in need of a wife. Of course, I had planned to wed eventually – when I was good and ready – to a lady of high standing at least a few thousand pounds worth. I rubbed my jaw thoughtfully. She would have to be attractive too, and of childbearing age.

Then I'd have to wed her, to be sure.

I grimaced at the sobering thought, shifting in my seat to make myself more comfortable. The prospect of marriage, not to say a loveless union, sent a shiver up my spine and left a distinctly unsettling taste in my mouth. Barring my obvious reluctance, I gathered I'd only have to bed the chit until I got her with child, after which I've a few old lovers who would gladly fall into the role of mistress.

I had long since gained the reputation of a rakehell by the ton. Dubbed an unbridled libertine. I'd read as much within the gossipmongering columns of both The Times and The Daily Telegraph, to name but a few publications. Though much of it had been a distortion of the truth, a highly colored exaggeration, it had at least made for good betting.

Not the most honorable pastime, but I didn't give a farthing either way. It mattered little what a bunch of pompous milk sops thought of me. For all my drunken lechery, I'd never seduced an innocent or forced my advances. My amorous attentions had always been received with favor and returned in equal bounds. I was a man of four and thirty, for God's sake, hardly some green boy.

Then why are you allowing this strange feeling to make a fool out of you? My voice of reason mocked lowly from the edges of my fog-shrouded mind.

I rubbed at my temples. All things considered, being at the center of perpetual scandal was the least of my concerns.

Duty first, as always. Father would turn in his grave if I died without heirs.

Even so, I had no intention to start planning my course to matrimony as yet. I merely had to appear to be sifting through the prospects. Comprising a directory of suitable women within the confines of society can be Harding's job. That ought to occupy him for the duration of the season. Only then might I be prodded to consider which lady I shall be courting – it would be the devil's own time convincing me of it any sooner – whereafter we might enjoy a shamefully long engagement. In addition, I'd have Harding keep stricter management of the staff. It wouldn't do to have my inheritance fall to ruin around my feet.

More pressingly, I needed to figure out what instinct was urging me on after what I'd found, putting every other sane plan to rout.

With my heart pounding in my ears, I pulled the small velvet pouch from my inner pocket and tugged at the drawstring close. Reaching inside, I touched my finger to the soft three-inch, varicolored plume, confirming it was still there. I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I didn't take it out, afraid to have it flutter from my fingers, knowing I'd not be able to retrieve it in the dark carriage illuminated only by the faint halo's of passing streetlamps.

Pensive, I traced the tiny flat branches of the fringed plume gently with the pad of my finger. Caught on a branch in Viscount Ainsworth's country grounds, no more extensive than my own, it had called to me during a gentleman's hunting expedition. I had long since committed the fine sinuous markings and shimmering hues of iridescent blues, purples and yellow golds to memory. For now, just touching it was enough. The familiar flow of energy from the entrancing feather took hold of me, fusing to my soul, burning hot enough to ignite a fiery need inside me.

I longed to go back there, to find more, to find the feathered creature from which it had moulted. I had the most ominous feeling that my mind would never be restored to sanity if I didn't.

The carriage suddenly jerked as the coachman pulled on the reins, and I braced myself as it rattled to a stop just off the cobblestone walk. "We've arrived, my lord," he announced, getting the door.

Blinking in the lantern light, I placed my downy treasure back within the inner pocket of my waistcoat and stepped from the carriage. "You've also nearly upset the carriage and pitched us to our deaths, Barnett," I remarked ruefully.

"Apologies, my lord. It won't happen again." He bowed bashfully before jumping up to take his seat in the elevated coach box.

I shook my head as I watched him take the reins. "See that it doesn't."

"Aye, my lord." Barnett hesitated. "Shall I wait for you here?"

"No," I gritted through clenched teeth and waved my hand with a dismissive gesture. "I'll take a hansom. Go home."

Shaking my head, I quickly ascended the steps and rapped the bronze knocker sharply against the door. I ducked my head in thought as I waited. The door opened shortly after and I took a deep breath to calm the blood throbbing in my temples as I was ushered inside by the Ainsworth's ill-tempered butler.

Hell and damnation! What was I doing? I needed to sort myself out before I succumbed to influences of witchcraft and ennui. I was a bloody Duke, a consecutive member of parliament, a decorated warlord. What the hell was I doing clinging to a blasted bird's feather?