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“You’ll be cavorting in Scotland, and I’ll be stuck on this accursed farm without a farthing in my pocket.”
    “If this tale of woe has been offered to elicit sympathy—or get me to empty my purse—it hasn’t.”
    “I can’t remain here without any funds. If that’s what you have in mind, then I’ll have to tag along to Scotland with you.”
    John didn’t want Edward in Scotland any more than Edward wanted to be there, but what choice did Edward have?
    They’d been at John’s rural estate for several weeks, and Edward was chomping at the bit to leave, but he couldn’t return to London.
    Creditors hounded him wherever he went, yet there was naught to do in Scotland but shiver in the cold and breathe the fresh air, the notion of which had him sick to his stomach.
    “By all means,” John said, “come to Scotland with us. We’ll be happy to have you, and you can keep the twins entertained.”
    John’s expression was unruffled, giving no hint as to his opinion over Edward’s abrupt decision to make the trip, and with Edward having thrown down the gauntlet, he felt as if he had to follow through. He’d be heading for Scotland with the rest of the family—his irritating mother nagging the entire time—when it had never been his intention to travel with them.
    How was it that John barely spoke a word but won every argument?
    “I’d better pack my bags,” Edward grumbled.
    “Yes, you’d better. We’ll be on our way at dawn. If you oversleep, you’ll miss the carriage.”
    Edward smiled tightly and sauntered out, fighting to appear relaxed and unaffected, but he was thoroughly steamed. The moment he was down the hall, he stomped off, eager to vent his rage.
    It was the very devil being the second son. While his father had provided for him, Charles had known Edward’s proclivities and had tied up all his money. Edward had enough to survive, but he couldn’t withdraw the amounts necessary to live as he deserved . And John was the trustee—the bastard!
    Edward had to plead and cajole to have the tiniest bill paid.
    He loomed into the foyer, but Violet was coming down the stairs, so he reined in his temper. A classic beauty, she was blond and blue-eyed, with a serene, aristocratic face and thin, willowy figure. She seemed to float rather than walk.
    She’d been groomed to marry a pompous ass like John, and she’d be the perfect, boring wife for the perfect, boring husband. She would never cause a scandal, would never exhibit an ounce of inappropriate conduct, and she’d be dry as dust in bed.
    How John could shackle himself to her was a mystery, but then, John sought out the dullest people on earth and cultivated relationships with them. Violet was the obvious choice to be his fiancée. She was vapid and shy and naïve as a post, but she was also a duke’s daughter and rich as Croesus.
    If Edward had been the earl, he could have wed someone like her, someone who was stupid enough to ignore his failings but attractive enough to look good on his arm at social functions. As it was, he’d be lucky to snag a poverty-stricken hag for his bride.
    “Hello, my dearest, Violet,” he said, turning on the charm.
    “Hello, Edward.” At using his Christian name, she blushed a fetching shade of pink.
    She reached the bottom stair, and he clasped her hand, bowed over it, and kissed the back.
    “How is it,” he asked, “that you’re always pretty so early in the morning?”
    She giggled annoyingly. “You’re such a flatterer.”
    “I simply point out the truth.”
    She preened under his male scrutiny, expecting it as her due.
    “I have the most wonderful news,” he murmured. He stepped in, his boots brushing the hem of her skirt, suggesting an intimacy to which he wasn’t entitled.
    “What is it?”
    “I’m coming to Scotland, after all.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes. I couldn’t bear to be away from you for two whole months.”
    She shook a slender, scolding finger at him. “You shouldn’t say such