Shocked, I stared at him. From his tone, I inferred Mother had been hurt rather badly. "Why was I not notified?" I demanded immediately, struggling to sit up straight. "Is she well? What happened?"

"It was an accident," Father explained quietly. He heaved a slight sigh. "There was a hole in the ground she didn't see on her morning ride. Sprite went down, taking your mother with her. Your mother wasn't able to get free, and her left leg was broken. She has been in her bed since then, and the doctor doesn't think it likely she will ride again."

Breathing out, I sagged back against the chair. "Mother never to ride again?" Nothing about that sentence made any sense, and I shook my head. "Poor Mother! She must be devastated."

"Sprite's leg was also broken, and I had to put her down."

I flinched. That alone would have broken Mother's heart, and my mind began working out how I could make it up to her. Barely a moment later, and I had just the thing. "Miles mentioned his father might need to sell Midnight Summer since she's aging. She would be just the mare to replace Sprite."

"Your mother won't be able to ride again, Lucas," Father repeated, his tone becoming stricter.

"Perhaps, but she should have a horse she can visit and spoil every day," I said, becoming more enthusiastic about the scheme. "Summer is a sweet-tempered mare that could use a lovely place where she can live out the rest of her days in peace. I will suggest it to Mother when I see her."

Father shook his head. "Wait a bit, Luke. I don't want you wasting money on a horse no one can use."

I frowned at his tone. Had I not just explained the benefit of purchasing Midnight Summer? "Why do I get the feeling Mother is worse than you have told me?" I asked, unable to shake off the suspicion that was growing. I tried to work out the timing in my head. "If she was hurt in early spring and it's now summer, her leg should be healed at this point."

"Lucas, leave it."

"You still haven't explained why you didn't let me know about this. I would have come home sooner."

Father's eyes narrowed. "If you hadn't been traveling the world, I wouldn't have needed to send word in the first place, young man. And, I will have you know, Philippa penned some sort of note when it first happened."

Understanding dawned. "Well, then, that explains it," I said, shaking my head. "Philly is an empty-headed thing on the best of days. She may have penned such a note but no doubt she forgot to send it. I hope this Talbot fellow knows what he's getting into."

"Can you not curb your opinion?" Father asked sharply.

It was always like this with my father and I. Every since I was first sent home from Eton, I was a disappointment to him. George, the firstborn and heir, could do no wrong and I, on the other hand, did everything wrong.

"Certainly," I said, giving up on the subject for the moment. I knew exactly where I could get some answers. "I will just go up and let Mama know I have returned."

"I'm sure Butler has already sent someone to inform her."

"Then, I won't keep her waiting." I pushed myself out of the chair. "I will see you at dinner, Father. Unless there was some other piece of news you wished to tell me?"

He focused his attention on his papers, but it didn't hide his tension. "Not at this time."

Puzzled by his reluctance to tell me why he had summoned me if it wasn't to inform me of my mother's injury, I left the office. I jogged up to Mama's sitting room but found it empty. I changed my destination and hurried to my mother's bedroom.

My knock was answered with a faint appeal to come in, and I pushed the door open. "Hello, Mama," I called out, keeping my voice low.

Sitting up in her bed, Mother held her hand out to me. Her appearance was frail and sent a shock to me. "How wonderful!" she exclaimed, though her voice was weak. "Lucas! I didn't know you were coming home! When did you arrive?"

"Just now, Mama, and I meant it as a surprise." I hurried forward to take her hand in mine. "And what is this I find now I am here, Mama dearest? Tell me how this happened."

She pulled me to sit on the edge of her bed. Her dark brown eyes, so like mine, scanned my face. "It was an accident, nothing more, and then congestion of the lungs stole my strength," she said dismissively. "But look at you, my dear boy! So tan from going about in the sun!"

"No harm came to me while I was away. I have much to tell you about where I have been and the things I have seen."

Mama sighed with contentment. "I had so hoped you were coming, but I insisted your father not pull you away from your fun. 'He's only young once,' is what I said. 'Let him get his wildness out while he can. There will be time enough for being steady and responsible once he's married.'"

I laughed. "And there's time enough for me to worry about finding a wife. I'm only twenty-two, you know."

She tilted her head with a frown. "You mean, your father hasn't explained— Of course not. You've only just arrived. Well, no matter. You'll know all soon enough."

"You may as well tell me all now you've started, Mama." What was so horrible neither of my parents wished to speak of it? "I promise you I am old enough to hear whatever it is."

Mama shook her head. "It's nothing, and your father is better able to explain it." As if to distract me, she asked, "Have you seen Philly yet? I know she will be ecstatic now you're home. She has news."

"Yes, she found herself a husband," I said with a laugh. "Father told me."

"Philly will be quite disappointed she could not tell you herself. She was so looking forward to springing the news on you."

"Well, I shall feign ignorance until she reveals it and then display the greatest shock possible." If she would not explain why I had been brought home, then I wouldn't pester Mama about it. Not while she was doing so poorly, in any event. "Who is this Bartholomew Talbot? I've never heard of him."

Delighted to have someone to talk to, Mother launched into a detailed account of how Philippa had met her betrothed. Bartholomew Talbot was the firstborn son of a well to do family and would come into his inheritance later in the year. He would have a small estate fifty miles from Bywood Hall and was accounted to be a respectable man.

After half an hour of conversation, I could see Mama's energy flagging, and it saddened me. When I had last seen her, the day I left for my journey, she had been the most active person in the neighborhood, and now to see her so fragile was alarming. I stood up and kissed her cheek.

"I will leave you to rest, Mama," I told her. "We can speak more at dinner."

She shook her head. "I have not had the strength to come down for a meal for some time, Luke."

The news did not sit well with me. How could she have become so weak and I had not been notified it was happening? Surely, after no response to Philippa's letter, someone would have reasoned I had not received it and sent another message. They could not think me so heartless to ignore Mama's plight, could they?

"Well, then, when you have a good day, I will carry you down." Sitting in a closed up room did no one any good and a change, I was sure, would do her the world of good. "I cannot imagine how everyone has gotten by without you to make sure they mind their manners."

Mama laughed softly. "You all are of an age where if you did not mind your manners without me there, I have failed. Come to me tomorrow at one o'clock. I want to hear about the sights you saw in Venice."

"Nothing will keep me away."

She had already closed her eyes when I glanced over my shoulder. I was careful when I closed the door and then headed to my room. The conversation with my mother had left me more thoughtful and apprehensive than I had expected.

Father hadn't mentioned she had been ill after her fall, which explained why she was not up and about now. Mama had taken tumbles in the past but they had never affected her to this degree. That she had not been eager to take me up on my suggestion to carry her down told me she was not well quite yet.

"Luke!"

My younger sister's exclamation pulled me from my thoughts, and I lifted my gaze in time to catch a figure dressed in pale green. Philippa wound her arms around my neck, putting all of her weight on me. I reeled a few steps back as though I couldn't support her.

"Luke, you finally came!" Philippa said, squeezing tightly. Her wispy brown hair tickled my cheek. "I thought you must have been killed in France. It was too cruel of you to stay away for so long!"

"Hello, Philly." After a few seconds, I disentangled myself from her. "That's enough of that. It's good to see you, brat."

Philippa scowled at me. "I am eighteen now, Luke. You have no right to say I'm a brat." She smacked my arm, causing me no pain at all but the action seemed to make her feel better. "What took you so long to get here? It's been ages since I sent you the letter telling you Mama was ill."

I raised an eyebrow. I had not been told this. "Father said you wrote the letter after Mama and Sprite fell," She opened her mouth, no doubt to argue the point, but I kept talking. "I didn't get your letter, and this was the first I have heard of it happening. Are you certain you sent the letter at all?"

"Of course I sent it! You cannot blame me for the lack of reliable mail delivery in foreign lands if you're the one who chooses to go there."

Waving my hand, I decided to let the matter pass. "Well, I'm here now," I said. She wrinkled her nose, surveying my appearance. "Do I pass muster or do you find me wanting?"

"You have not washed from your travels," she said, her tone judgemental. Her eyes widened in horror. "Please tell me you did not go into Mama smelling like a stable!"

"Our mama is not about to object to the smell of animals, sister of mine. But if I am so offensive to your nose, I will go to my room now."

Apparently forgiving me for any offense I had given her, Philippa looped her arm around mine and walked with me down the hallway. "I am so glad you are here, Luke," she said magnanimously. "My first Season was such a success, and you will never guess what happened!"

Even if I had not been told, what she wished to reveal would not have been difficult to discern. "Let me guess. You wore a pretty dress of fine muslin, and you gossiped to all hours of the night? Or was it that you danced until dawn every night?"

"I'm not a gossip! No, Luke. I had no less than four offers, and I accepted one of them. I am to be married!"

"I am glad you accepted only one of those offers," I told her. "Imagine what would happen if word got around you had consented to marry all of them!"

Philly scoffed at my teasing. "You are ridiculous," she said. "His name is Mr. Bartholomew Talbot, and he is quite the nicest gentleman I have ever had the pleasure to meet. I have high hopes of him joining the party, and then you will be able to meet him."

"Party? What party is this?" I asked, reaching the door of my room. I paused, my hand on the doorknob as I glanced back at her.

"Phoebe told me all about it. Her parents are having a grand house party in a week. They have invited several of our friends from London. Phoebe is thrilled about it."

I chuckled. Phoebe Ramsey was a year older than Philippa and was one of the silliest girls I had the misfortune of knowing. Growing up, she and I had done nothing but fight if we were left together for longer than a few minutes. As the older one, I had been scolded for not behaving better, an injustice I had never forgotten.

"Did you even tell her you were coming?"

Startled by the question, I frowned at Philippa. "No, why would I?"

"I was going to say you must not have. Heaven knows Phoebe cannot keep a secret," Philippa said with a laugh. "She will be pleased when you visit, though she may not appreciate the surprise. It was badly done of you, Luke."

Blinking, I tried to make sense of her words. "I doubt Phoebe Ramsey cares about my comings and goings, Philly," I finally said, giving up on understanding her. "Run along."

My sister frowned at me for a moment and then shrugged in an unladylike manner. "Brothers," she said with a huff. She spun in her heel and called over her shoulder as she walked away, "You have no idea what a lady expects from you!"

Shaking my head at her incomprehensibleness, I put the matter from my mind and entered my room.

****

A few hours later, I finished tying my cravat in a simple knot and surveyed my appearance in the mirror. My travels had instilled in me the value of looking one's best, without the affectations many gentlemen of my generation attempted, and I sought to imitate the simplicity Beau Brummel emphasized.

Satisfied there was nothing untoward in my appearance, I made my way down to the drawing room, where my family always gathered before a meal. I passed a maid carrying a covered tray, Mama's meal. I pursed my lips, not liking the thought of my mother eating alone night after night.

I could hear my family, Philippa above all the others, long before I reached the doorway. When I pushed the door open, she was in the middle of demonstrating some bit of silliness she had done earlier in the day. Stooped over in a ridiculous position, she glanced over, and her face brightened with a broad smile.

"Luke!" she exclaimed as she straightened herself. "You look so grown up!"

"You are generous, Philly," I said with a wry smile. I faced the rest of the group. Father was sitting by the fireplace with my older brother, George, standing at his shoulder. "Father, George. I hope I haven't kept you waiting."

I'd arrived downstairs several minutes early so I was surprised when Father said, "I'm not the one to whom you should apologize, Lucas."

Turning, I took a moment to study the seated woman. Her appearance was nothing like the kind of lady I'd believed my brother would choose as his wife, though she was pretty by any person's standards. Her hair was blonde and curled around her face. Her figure was admirable, but it was the expression on her face that sent chills down my spine: one of judgment and disdain.

"You must be my new sister. I am delighted to meet you, ma'am. Welcome to the family."

She shifted her blue-eyed gaze to my brother, refusing to acknowledge my greeting. "Rosamund, may I present to you my younger brother Lucas," George introduced formally. "Lucas, this is my wife, Rosamund."

"So, the rapscallion brother finally decided to do his duty," Rosamund said, returning her gaze to me. "Mister Lucas Bywood, I wish I could say it is a pleasure, but your reputation precedes you."

Surprised by this greeting, I tried not to allow her words to annoy me. She could only have heard me described as a scapegrace from my family, but I could hardly believe they thought of me in such a way! I may have chosen my own course in life, but I was by no means a disgrace to the family as she was implying.

"My dear sister Rosamund —I may call you Rosamund, may I not?" I stepped forward, caught her hand, and brought it up to my lips. The shocked expression on her face almost made me burst out laughing, but I controlled my features. "I have no doubt you will ensure my brother lives with absolute propriety."

"What do you mean by that?" George demanded, bristling as he stepped closer.

Rosamund pulled her hand free of my grip. "Nothing at all, George," I said, taking a step back. I glanced around the room and commented, "How quiet it is without Mama, Jane, Celia, and Jo here."

My three older sister had been married before I had left for my Grand Tour so I should have been accustomed to the reduced number of our family for dinner. Perhaps it was the lack of Mama that made me feel the change. The room just felt darker than I remembered it ever being.

"Isn't that the nature of families, Master Lucas?" Rosamund asked primly. Her referring to me as 'Master Lucas' made my lips twitch. Only servants called me that and doubted she would appreciate the comparison. And why was she referring to me as if I were a child? "Children grow up and make their own homes. You will, quite soon I am told, make a new start with your own bride."

"Soon, you say? I'm afraid you have been misinformed, Rosamund. I have no intentions of settling down any time in the foreseeable future." I was amused by the notion until I saw my father's face. And George's face. And Philippa's face? Slowly, I stopped laughing when it seemed no one else was amused. "Have I missed something?"

"You are engaged to Phoebe Ramsey, are you not? George told me you were."