Luke Pearson tapped the ball down the long green alley that comprised the pall mall court at the back of the residence he had adopted in Bath eighteen months prior. He played alone, which allowed him to hone his skills. Sadly, his skills had always been lacking, and he found that terrible players practised terribly. But he enjoyed his one-man competitions, nonetheless. The fresh air was always cathartic, and he got a good chuckle when he grossly missed the round metal hoop that indicated a score. As he had just then.

He pulled a pre-cut cigar from his pocket, lighting it with a match and puffing on it before he strolled down the court to fetch the rogue ball. He would head in soon to check for letters from his steward, who was flawlessly running his country-seat estate in his stead. But he knew there was not likely to be any pressing matters there. So, for the time being, Luke smoked his cigar and took another sloppy shot at the hoop.

When the desire for a drink became greater than his desire to keep missing the hoop, Luke gathered up the mallet and the ball. He handed them to a nearby footman, who took them to the shed behind the grand Bath townhouse. Then, Luke went back inside, pulling his scotch and a glass from the cabinet in his monotone, black cherry colored study as he took a seat at his desk. He stared at the walls, which were blissfully bare of portraits of any relatives since it was his one place to escape. He despised London in its entirety, and his country-seat was filled with too many bad memories.

He had spent nearly eight years married to Lady Violet, just as his father had wished. Both their fathers, in fact, had pressed for the marriage, having made the arrangements, and signing all the legal paperwork behind the backs of their own children. Luke had been horrified by the idea, especially since he had loved another at the time. But Violet, however, had become terribly depressed, practically from the very moment she became Lady Violet Bentley. With her dark hair and olive complexion, and dark green eyes, she had been a beautiful woman. But there had never been even a spark of romance between them. Violet’s endless depression had been a terrible testament to that fact.

She had passed away a year and a half prior. She fell suddenly ill and remained locked in her chambers, wasting away, and refusing to see her own husband. It was true that Luke felt no love for her, but she had been his companion for nearly a decade. And it was his duty to see that her needs were met. Yet, she had shut him out completely, until she drew her last breath. Thinking back on all the tears she used to cry and all the days she spent not bothering to get out of bed, Luke sometimes caught himself wondering if the illness hadn’t been, in its way, a mercy to her.

He rubbed his face, feeling pity for himself as much for Violet as he looked at the papers and ledgers on his desk. He hadn’t been thrilled in the marriage, either, but he would have never forced Violet to marry him, had there been any option. But even though he didn’t notice her absence, except in the way one gets accustomed to seeing someone every single day for years, and then suddenly doesn’t anymore, he still felt heaviness.

As he dropped his hands from his face, he noticed a tilting stack of letters sitting on his desk. He smirked, wondering if the butler had started making a game of seeing how many could fit on one stack, before beginning a new one. He supposed he should take that as a hint to start reading through some of them. He rifled through them, tossing out those that were either too old to bother answering, or had been addressed by the infrequent house calls some of his business partners made.

Toward the more recent section of the stack, he saw two envelopes with familiar penmanship scrawled across them. He smiled to himself. He was sure he knew the contents of each letter, even before he read them. He decided to open the one from his mother first, to leave the more pleasant letter for last. He certainly wasn’t disappointed.

She was rather direct, imploring him to consider reentering society again. He shuddered, setting aside the letter, and shaking his head. The last thing he wanted was to mingle with women who might have the idea of marrying a wealthy widower earl. He suspected that might be what his mother was intending for him to do. But there was no way he would ever put himself in a position to end up in another loveless marriage.

The second letter, however, made him smile. He eagerly opened it, anxious to see what his aunt Daphne, Lady Easton, had to say. It had been too long since he had seen her, and she had been a great comfort to him over the years. He read her letter, finding its contents far more pleasing than that from his mother:

My Darling Nephew,

I hope this letter finds you well, Luke. Darling, you keep yourself hidden away, and I miss you terribly. I apologise for having not made the trip to Bath recently, but affairs here at our country-seat have kept both your uncle and me quite busy. I think about you every day, however, and I would love to see you.

Thus, I am formally inviting you to come to a summer house party I am hosting here at our country home. It would mean the world to me if you would agree to come, darling. It is sure to be a fun, lovely affair, and getting to see you would make the evening just perfect.

And do not fret, my dear. I have no intention of inviting your mother. I want you to feel comfortable and enjoy yourself, and I have no doubt that your mother would make the evening unpleasant. I love you, darling, and I hope you will accept this invitation.

Love always,

Aunt Daphne

Luke held onto that letter, looking it over as he sat back in his chair. He hadn’t seen his aunt in ages, and he loved her dearly. She was, in many ways, more of a mother than his own mother had ever been. And she knew that Luke and his mother didn’t get along well, as evidenced by her saying that she wasn’t inviting the countess to her summer house party. He knew that Daphne truly had his best interest at heart, and that she loved him just as dearly as he loved her. He set the letter aside at last, considering her invitation.

One other note caught Luke’s attention, and he grabbed it, his memory jogging. It was a note written by his own hand, and it had a time written in big numbers and underlined. At the top, his cousin’s name, John, was written just as big. He had agreed to receive John for drinks that very evening, and he had two hours to get ready. He restacked the letters almost just as they were in case the butler was making a game out of the stacking, and then he rushed to his chambers, grabbing Lyle on the way, to dress for his cousin’s visit.

He was just descending the stairs when the butler entered the grand hall. Behind him was a grinning John, who the butler announced as Luke approached.

“Good evening, Cousin,” John Davis said, shaking his head to rid his brown eyes of a strand of dark brown hair.

Luke offered his hand, smiling at his cousin and gesturing for him to follow.

“Good evening,” he said. “Come. Let’s take our drinks in the parlour.”

John nodded in agreement.

“We could hang from a tree, so long as there are drinks,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

Luke laughed. His cousin was a respectable man, and a shrewd businessman, but he did enjoy a drink. Luke ordered the servants to make a tray of meat, cheese, and cakes, then fetched the scotch from the cabinet at the back of the room. While John made himself comfortable, Luke poured their drinks. Then, he served his cousin his drink and put the bottle of scotch on the table before moving a small, hard-backed chair closer to the black sofa where John sat, and toasted his cousin with his own.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, sipping his drink with his cousin.

John nodded, setting his drink aside.

“It’s been ages since I’ve seen you,” he said, his expression becoming more serious. “How are you faring?”

Luke shook his head, taking a big sip of his drink.

“I’m fine, Cousin,” he said. “Please, let’s not talk about dark things. I want our visit to be a happy one.”

John looked wary, but he eventually nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “What plans do you have for the summer?”

Luke shrugged, preparing to say he had none. But then, he thought about his aunt’s letter, and he smiled softly.

“Aunt Daphne has invited me to a house party at her country residence,” he said.

John’s face lit up, and he lifted his glass in the air again.

“That sounds lovely,” he said. “Are you going to attend?”

Luke sighed.

“I’m of two minds about it,” he said. “I would love to see Aunt Daphne again. However, I am not thrilled about the notion of mingling with those stuffy ton citizens.”

John laughed heartily, nodding.

“I admit that some of the ton people are quite insufferable,” he said. When Luke gave him a wide-eyed look, he laughed again. “All right. Most of them are. But sometimes, the parties are nice. They all occur with copious amounts of spirits, at least.”

It was Luke’s turn to laugh.

“To hear you talk, one would think that you think of nothing but alcohol,” he said.

John blinked rapidly, pretending puzzled.

“Doesn’t everyone?” he asked, sniggering.

Luke chuckled again.

“Not the stuffiest of them,” he said.

John snorted.

“And they’re the ones who need it most,” he said.

The men shared a laugh, and Luke poured them both another drink.

“Seriously, Cousin,” John said as they toasted nothing in particular again. “You should really consider attending the party.”

Luke shrugged again and sighed.

“I don’t know,” he said. “If it were just a visit with Daphne and Isaac, I would do it without a thought. But a party? I’m not sure I’m ready for all the socialising that would be required.”

John looked him over for a second before putting his drink down.

“Luke,” he said. “I do understand wanting to avoid some of the ton people. But you had friends once, people who cared about you and enjoyed your company. And Daphne isn’t likely to invite too many people you find insufferable.”

Luke nodded slowly, thinking about what she had said about his mother.

“You’re right about that,” he said.

John nodded.

“Your marriage to Violet robbed you off so much,” he said. “Your father was horrible for forcing you into that marriage. And while I do not celebrate her death, I think that you should celebrate this second chance at a happy life. You deserve to be happy again, Cousin. And I don’t think you’ll find any happiness by keeping yourself locked away behind walls, far away from those who truly love you.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but there was no malice. His cousin spoke the truth, and he knew it. Luke had once had a small circle of close friends, but they had grown apart in the years since he married Violet. And his friends aside, he had always been close to Daphne and Isaac. Even when he was keeping to himself in the country-seat, Daphne wrote to him at least twice a week, and she called in every chance she got.

“You’re right, Cousin,” he said. “I think a trip away is just what I need.”