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next morning he was on his way before most of the inn was stirring. Despite his fascination with the widow, he had other duties that awaited his attention.
    A pity, he acknowledged as he rode up the tree-lined drive to his father’s estate. He would much rather be charming a delicious woman than enduring the awkward discomfort of his father, Lord Graystone.
    A wry smile touched his lips at the thought of the stranger who had managed to father him.
    Throughout the years it had always baffled Fredrick why his father had insisted that he visit this estate at least one month during the summer. Not only were Lady Graystone and Fredrick’s half-brother, Simon, always notably staying in London, but Graystone himself seemed as anxious as a cat on coals in his presence.
    Certainly, there had been no efforts at creating a genuine relationship. In truth, Fredrick had spent more time with the servants, often seeing his father briefly at dinner before the man once again disappeared.
    In time, Fredrick had come to realize that his father must be embarrassed by his illegitimate brat. After all, when he had indulged in his affair with Fredrick’s mother, he had been an obscure younger son with few responsibilities. It was not until after the death of his older brother that Graystone had suddenly been thrust into the role of head of the family and forced to marry a wealthy merchant’s daughter to salvage the estate from ruin.
    From that moment, Graystone had shouldered his duties with a grim determination. Which had convinced Fredrick that he was just another duty that had to be endured, a shameful duty his father would rather sweep beneath the rug if only it were possible.
    Once Fredrick had reached his majority, he had brought an end to the forced visits. It was obvious to him that his father wanted to be done with his duty, so Fredrick had made it simple for him.
    Until now.
    A bittersweet sense of familiarity struck Fredrick as he passed through the open gates and caught sight of the redbrick mansion.
    Built in the late 1600s with a classical portico and soaring columns, the house had been returned to its former glory during his father’s reign. Even the grounds had been reclaimed from nature and now spread beneath the pale sunlight with a manicured perfection.
    It was not the largest or the best known estate in the area, but Oak Manor held an ancient charm that would never be dimmed by time.
    For once Fredrick did not ride directly to the stables. On this day he was no more than a guest at the manor, and, properly halting before the wide oak doors, he waited for a groom to dash forward to take the reins of his horse before he climbed the worn steps.
    He had barely reached the entrance when the doors were pulled open and a tall, thin butler with ginger hair now liberally sprinkled with grey regarded him with a dignified expression.
    “May I be of service, sir?”
    Fredrick’s lips twitched as he regarded the man who had taught him to play chess and cheat at cards.
    “Hello, Morgan. I see that ugly mug has not changed over the years.”
    The servant briefly stiffened, then with a sudden hitch of breath he took a step forward. “Good heavens . . . Mr. Smith?”
    Fredrick offered a small bow. “For my sins.”
    A sudden pleasure warmed the pale blue eyes. “It is very good to see you, sir. Please, come in and I will inform the master you have arrived.”
    Fredrick smiled fondly as he followed the butler through the small foyer. Despite Morgan’s stiff manner, he had a soft heart and a cunning wit. He also had a startling ability to keep a young, fretful lad entertained and out of most mischief.
    Fredrick would never forget Morgan’s kindness over the years.
    His smile abruptly faded as they entered the Staircase Gallery. Not from the heavy, ornately scrolled chairs that lined the long hall, or the open timbered ceiling. No, it was the framed portraits of his half-brother, Simon, that were hung with splendid prominence along the