It was the night before the wedding, and Ewan found himself surrounded among noblemen whom he had not seen in over a year. While he was there in body, his mind was anywhere but on the imbibing and boisterous laughter of the bachelor party around him. While he sported a drink of his own, Ewan could not bring himself to enjoy the festivities around him. He was vaguely aware of how the Duke watched him with intensity, perhaps anticipating some production of emotion, but Ewan was unsure of how he felt. In the morning, the Olivers would come with Miss Oliver, and the wedding would proceed as planned.

To Ewan, it seemed the time had snuck upon him, that he had not had enough time to prepare for the nuptials, but of course, that was not the case. A month was ample time for him to get himself right for the inevitable union.

“You seem rather deflated for a bridegroom on his wedding night,” Lord Averson declared. “You must have another drink.”

“If I have any more, I will sleep through my wedding day,” Ewan quipped, but he did not refuse when the earl handed him a glass of port.

“I have, on occasion, laid eyes upon Miss Oliver,” Averson told him conspiratorially. Ewan found himself staring at the man who, in mid-life, still considered himself a youngster. The words piqued his curiosity.

“Have you?” he asked, attempting nonchalance but failing terribly. He would be lying to declare he was not interested in the woman he was to marry.

“I have and I daresay, Lord Peterborough, you are one lucky chap. She is a comely article.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Fair, dainty but a queer one, I am afraid.”

Ewan’s eyebrows arched.

“Queer how?”

“Well…” the Earl leaned forward to disclose his secrets, and Ewan could not help but move his head toward Averson’s lips to hear him better.

“Her father, as I am certain you are aware, is a general in the army, and I cannot say with conviction that he keeps her under lock and key, but it appears that way.”

Ewan’s eyes narrowed.

“How so?”

“She is rarely seen at social events for a girl of her standing. I do not know the family personally, but I have heard from Roger Carter that Aaron Oliver is quite rigid. He runs his home like the barracks.”

“That sounds…dismal,” Ewan murmured.

“I imagine Miss Oliver will be happy to be free of her father’s reign,” Averson chuckled, raising his glass in silent toast. “Marrying a noble, no less.”

“I wager we will see. What is that adage? The harvest is always more fruitful in another man’s field, is it not? She may be relieved for a short while to be here, only to find she longs for her family.”

“Then you must make her with child to keep her occupied,” Averson chuckled. “It has worked wonders for Lady Averson.”

The words filled Ewan with dread. Perhaps he had deliberately cast the idea of having children from his mind, but the mere thought of fathering a brood with anyone other than Patricia caused him panic.

“Oh, I see Vickers gesturing for me to join him at the card table. Will you play a hand?”

“I…no,” Ewan replied, his words choked slightly. “Excuse me.”

Lord Averson did not seem to notice as Ewan stumbled away, desperate for air suddenly. The walls of the game room seemed to be closing in about him, and he could no longer bear the stench of cigar smoke and the sound of loud voices ricocheting through his head. He barely made it into the courtyard when he fell into the stone wall, using it to prop him up.

You must not lose control of yourself, willing his breathing to regulate. He remembered his promise to show absolute stoicism, no matter his feelings. Ewan had wasted enough time moping about Nightingale and he would not fall into that again, not when he could do nothing about it.

The sound of approaching hooves captured his attention and he turned his head to look toward the front of the house where a large coach approached. Servants ran forward to attend to the new arrivals and Ewan wondered who else had come to join the party which had commenced hours earlier.

The coachman opened the door as Ewan’s house staff stood by, awaiting direction, but the Marquess was fixated on the door, his neck tingling as he waited to see who might emerge. Inherently, he sensed that it was not simply a newcomer for the bachelor affair.

Have the Olivers come early?

He would not be surprised to learn that his parents had fibbed to him about the timing of his fiancée’s impending arrival. They would want him to enjoy his final night of freedom before marrying him off to a stranger.

A pant leg appeared first, followed by a man’s tall, solid frame. From the distance between him and the carriage, Ewan could see little other than the fact that the man was fair, and it led the Marquess to conclude that he stared at General Aaron Oliver from the shadows. A moment later, his suspicions were confirmed when the General led his wife out of the carriage. To Ewan’s amazement, the coachman closed the door. His betrothed was not inside.

His mother shuffled forward from near the walls of the manor where Ewan had not previously seen her and welcomed them, the lilt of the Duchess’ voice reaching his ears although the words were lost on him over the space. Ewan remained in place after they retreated into the house, expecting another coach to appear, but after several moments, he realized that Henrietta was not coming.

“You cannot hide at your own bachelor party,” the Duke chided him. “I have been seeking you for twenty minutes.”

“It is insufferable in there,” Ewan protested. “My lungs demanded air which was breathable.”

“Oh, and I thought you to be avoiding your peers.”

“They are more your peers than mine, Father.” Ewan sighed, turning fully to face him. “Why did you not tell me the Olivers were arriving tonight?”

Phineas’ face clouded, and he sighed deeply.

“Did you see them arrive?”

“I did.”

“We did not want to further upset you, Ewan,” the Duke replied quietly. “Your mother and I are well aware of how hard this has been on you. We are attempting to make the transition easier any way we might.”

Ewan felt a bolt of endearment toward his father, and he nodded.

“I am aware of that, Father. You are not to be faulted for being decent parents.”

The men shared a private smile before Phineas broke his gaze.

“We best return to the party. You do not wish to keep your father-in-law waiting.”

Ewan stifled a shudder at the characterization of the General, but he reluctantly turned to follow his father back toward the smoky game room where the festivities had only increased in volume since he had departed.

The General had yet to make an appearance, and a small part of Ewan hoped that he would opt to retire for the night, but he knew it was not likely to happen. It would appear improper if he did not show his face when he was on the property, after all.

“Miss Oliver did not come?” Ewan asked his father who stared at him with some confusion.

“I assumed she did,” the Duke replied. “Did you not see her?”

“I did not.”

His father did not comment, but both men found their attention diverted by the strapping General entering the game room, his eyes darting about but his expression displaying nothing.

“General Oliver!” the Duke called pleasantly, stepping forward to greet the man. “We are so pleased you could join us!”

Ewan inhaled deeply and trailed after his father, watching as the General bowed stiffly.

“Your Grace, the pleasure is mine.”

Instantly, the man’s eyes strayed toward his future son-in-law and fixed on his face.

“Permit me to introduce my son, Ewan, The Marquess of Peterborough.”

“Lord Peterborough,” the General said, again bowing. “It is my great honor to welcome you into our family.”

“The honor is mine,” Ewan replied, hoping his words did not sound as dull as they felt leaving his lips.

“Let us fetch you a drink, General Oliver,” the Duke said smoothly before a lull could form in the conversation. “Gerome, a drink for General Oliver.”

The butler moved toward the trio, his head down.

“What is your pleasure, General?” Phineas asked, his voice booming much louder than Ewan knew was common.

Father is uncomfortable also. Oddly, the fact comforted him somewhat.

“Scotch,” Aaron replied dismissively to Gerome who immediately turned to retrieve his order.

“Has Miss Oliver accompanied you to Nightingale this evening?” Ewan asked casually. To his surprise, the General’s face twisted darkly.

“My daughter will come on the morrow as expected. It is improper for the bride to see her groom prior to the ceremony,” Aaron intoned as though he had memorized the words before attending the party.

“I agree,” the Duke chimed, but Ewan was confused. If what Averson had told him was correct, the General kept his daughter quite close. It seemed strange that he would not insist she remain nearby.

Something is afoot. There is something odd about this family, I am certain.

“I trust her travels went well? Where was it she went?” Ewan asked. “To a wedding?”

He knew precisely where Tabitha had claimed Henrietta to be, but he had long suspected she was lying.

“A relative has taken ill.”

Quite a vague interpretation.

“I expect said relative is well again?”

“Yes,” the General replied shortly and reached out for his drink. He scowled slightly at the glass.

“Is something amiss, General?” Ewan asked, detecting the sour expression on his face. Aaron shook his head but glowered slightly at Gerome.

“I have never seen so little in one glass is all,” he muttered, pressing the drink to his lips.

“Gerome, fill the General’s glass appropriately,” the Duke instructed, and Ewan suppressed a deep sigh.

“At once, Your Grace.”

“Forgive him, General,” the Duke offered magnanimously. “He is a new addition to the household. He does not know of our ways.”

“He reminds me of one I recently dismissed,” Aaron said, and Ewan heart sank at the words.

He is a hard man, the General. He will be difficult to accept as family.

Ewan was consumed with a sense of foreboding. He was certain that allowing the Olivers into Nightingale would only bring along chaos which he did not have the gall to oversee. Yet what could he do? In twelve hours’ time, the General’s daughter would be his wife.