The duke cleared his throat and took another step closer. For an instant, Carter had the strangest sensation that the duke meant to embrace him, something he seldom did when Carter was a boy and never once after he had reached his tenth birthday.

Seeking to defuse the odd tension swirling about the room, Carter headed for the crystal decanters of spirits on the credenza. He poured them both a glass of whiskey, then slowly crossed back to his father, taking note of the older man’s appearance.

The duke was dressed formally for an evening out, confirming that nothing initially seemed amiss. Yet as Carter looked closer, something did seem different about his father. His hair appeared to have several additional gray streaks, his broad shoulders were slightly stooped. It must be a trick of the light, Carter decided. The duke was never anything but invincible.

The duke accepted the glass, then pulled himself up to his usual rigid stance. “A salute to your good health. May you never take it for granted.”

“To your good health, sir,” Carter replied automatically, and then he stopped short, his whiskey glass not yet at his lips.

Was his father ill? Was this the real reason for this unexpected visit? Carter’s stomach turned to lead. He took but a small sip of his whiskey.

“I can see that you are dressed to go out for the evening, so I shall be direct,” the duke began as he sat down. “I heard there was a bit of a commotion at Banberry Park today. Something about you taking a dunk in the lake?”

Carter waved his hand dismissively. “It was nothing.”

“There was also talk of an incident in front of the Bull and Finch tavern last week where some thug pulled a knife on you and nearly succeeding in burying it in your chest.” The duke took another swallow of his drink. “In light of this troubling information, I feel compelled to ask, is this merely a string of bad luck or are you deliberately courting danger?”

“To spite you?” Carter laughed at the ridiculous question, feeling almost giddy with relief. His father’s health was not in jeopardy. This time when he tipped the glass to his lips, he was able to take a long, enjoyable swallow.

“I asked you a question,” the duke said, his voice sharp.

Carter’s smile faded. The duke was serious. “It was too outrageous for a response,” he countered. “If I wanted to injure myself, there are far easier and less painful methods than drowning or getting knifed.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Carter downed his whiskey in two swallows. “These were two unrelated, random events in which I was an unwitting participant. Nothing more.”

The duke sat up, adjusting his lean frame in the elegant chair. “I am relieved to hear this is not a deliberate pattern of behavior. Yet these harrowing experiences serve to further illustrate my position. Time is of the essence. If anything fatal had occurred, you would have left this world without an heir.”

Ah, so now they came to the heart of the matter, the reason for the visit. His father was concerned about the continuation of the family line. “If I promise that I shall endeavor to keep myself alive long enough to father a legitimate heir, will that set your mind at rest, sir?”

The duke slammed his half-full whiskey glass on the nearby side table. “God Almighty, Carter, you are my only child. Do you not think I would be devastated at your loss, out of my mind with grief and pain?”

Carter simply stared at his father, too stunned to think of a response.

“I was at my club this afternoon when I heard that you had been in the lake and nearly drowned trying to rescue Dardington’s girls,” the duke continued. “I assumed there was some exaggeration to the tale, but it sounded dire. Most dire.”

“Of course I dove in to save the children. I daresay you would have done the same, had you been there, sir.” Carter rubbed his forehead. His father was clearly distressed, obviously concerned. It was completely…unexpected. “I was never in any great peril. I am a strong swimmer.”

“And the knife incident?”

“A tavern brawl that I happened upon. But I was not alone. Benton, Dawson, and the major were there, too. They had my back.”

“I suppose that is some consolation.” The duke picked up his glass, drained it, then leaned back in his chair. “The Marchioness of Dardington has sent me an invitation to a private dinner party she is having in your honor tomorrow evening. I am unable to attend. I must leave for Shrewsbury in the morning and will be gone for the remainder of the week. I have important estate business that requires my immediate attention. I wanted you to know I would have been there, if it were possible.”

Carter could barely hide his shock. “I understand. Thank you for telling me.”

The corner of the duke’s mouth trembled slightly. “Well, I wanted you to know.” Then, as though he felt guilty for revealing the depth of his concern and emotions, he added, “And I wanted to know how you were coming with your marriage plans. How many of the young ladies on my list have you spoken with recently?”

Carter felt a stab of emotion, akin to relief. The duke’s odd behavior had been surprising and unsettling. It felt better to be back on familiar ground. “May we drop the list for tonight, sir? In light of the trauma of this afternoon.”

“Neatly put.” The duke scoffed. “You were always one to press the advantage at any opportunity.”

“It happens so rarely when dealing with you, sir. I’d be a fool not to act when the chance presents itself.”

The duke allowed the remark to pass and even managed a tight smile. They continued a civil dialogue as they waited for the duke’s carriage to be summoned and parted with a firm handshake.

Yet when he took to his bed in the early morning hours, Carter was still trying to puzzle out the true reason for his father’s visit.

Carter was the first guest of honor to arrive at the Dardingtons’ elegant London townhome the following evening. He felt slightly uncomfortable at the effervescent praise he received the moment he crossed the threshold. Lady Dardington, who insisted he address her as Meredith, clung to his arm tightly, exalting his quick thinking and unselfish sacrifice and repeatedly expressed her thanks for his heroic efforts on behalf of herself and her daughters.

Yet her gratitude paled in comparison to her husband’s. It was somewhat shocking to see the normally stoic Lord Dardington in such an emotional state. There was a suspicious trace of moisture in his eyes when he shook Carter’s hand and echoed his wife’s thanks. The extent of his love and devotion to his wife and children was almost humbling to witness.

Thankfully, Benton and Roddington soon made their appearance, thus spreading the gratitude among the three gentlemen. The major took it all in stride, while Benton eagerly lapped up the endless praise and Carter tried to downplay his own heroics.

“I feel like a conquering Roman general victoriously returning from the wars,” the viscount confided to Carter with a lopsided grin.

“Don’t mention that to Dardington or else he’ll arrange for a bevy of Egyptian slave girls to entertain us,” Carter said ruefully. “I swear the man is so grateful he would give us the deeds to his estates if we even hinted that we were interested in acquiring them.”

“It never hurts to have a man of the marquess’s stature in our debt,” Benton observed wryly.

The two men abruptly ceased trading quips when the three Dardington daughters, along with their governess, entered the drawing room. The girls filed in front of their rescuers in a single line. Then, without prompting, each child executed a passable curtsy.

Carter stood uneasily beside Benton and Roddington, uncertain how to react. He was not much around children and knew next to nothing of them. Fortunately, little was required except to appear interested in the apparently rehearsed proceedings.

Dry, quiet, and up close, they were a remarkable pretty trio, inheriting the finest points of their very attractive parents. The eldest read a note of thanks she had composed before presenting a copy to each of them, along with a picture her two younger sisters had drawn.

The presentation concluded, the girls were quickly hustled off to the nursery. Carter seized the opportunity to let his eyes wander toward Miss Ellingham. She was dressed in a shimmering gown of pale lavender that made her hair appear golden and her skin creamy and delectable. He had always thought her a pretty woman, but tonight she looked positively beautiful.

The gown’s narrow bodice offered a delightful view of her perfectly rounded breasts, displaying her overabundant charms in an odd combination of virginity and sensuality that had him thinking the most inappropriate thoughts.

As if somehow sensing his randy thoughts, she suddenly looked away from the Countess of Marchdale, Benton’s paternal grandmother, with whom she was conversing, and caught his gaze. He inclined his head, captivated by the brightness of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes.

The way she returned his stare let him know she recognized his admiration. But did she appreciate it? Of that, Carter was far less certain.

Dinner was announced and the small party of guests entered the dining room. Carter was seated next to Lady Meredith on his left and the Countess of Marchdale on his right. Miss Ellingham was on the opposite side of the table, sandwiched between Benton and Roddington.

It was easy to be entertained by Lady Marchdale’s lively conversation and wicked sense of humor, yet throughout the meal, Carter remained very much aware of Miss Ellingham. He tried to distract his thoughts and concentrate on the delicious food, but then Miss Ellingham’s fingers glided over the stem of her crystal wine goblet, unwittingly drawing Carter’s gaze.