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childhood that he was not aware he was lacking what his father desired in a son.
    Astonishingly, however, he realized there was something else in that pang. Something that might have been pity.
    â€œPerhaps he resented your superiority as a farmer. Tending to your land is, after all, the most important part of being a nobleman, is it not?”
    Norrington shrugged, using the rag in his hand to wipe the stray dirt off the table. The silence stretched. And just kept stretching.
    For once, Ian resisted the urge to walk away in hurt disdain or fill the air with mindless chatter. He just leaned casually against the table and waited for whatever might come.

Chapter 3
    At last it was the father who cleared his throat and turned to study the son.
    â€œIs there a reason for your journey to Rosehill?”
    Ian was prepared for the question. “Did you know that Dunnington recently passed?”
    â€œNo.” Astonishment followed by . . . what? It was impossible to say. “No, I had not heard the news.”
    â€œI found London a depressing place with the old man gone.”
    â€œI see.”
    Ian smiled wryly. “Do not fear. I will not linger for long.” Stiffening, Norrington turned to fuss with the pots that were spread across the table.
    â€œThis will always be your home, Ian.”
    â€œThank you.” He didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. “It is very peaceful here.”
    â€œYes, it is. That is what I love most about this estate.”
    â€œBut you do seek the entertainments in London on occasion, do you not?” Ian asked casually. “Peace is all well and good, but every gentleman is in need of a diversion now and then.”
    The wariness that suddenly wrapped about Norrington was near tangible. As if he had some reason he did not wish to discuss his trips to London.
    Intriguing.
    A gentleman could hide any number of sins in the crowded city.
    Ian should know.
    â€œI must meet with my man of business in the city at least once a month,” his father at last muttered in low tones. “And, of course, my position in the House of Lords demands that I attend for the more important votes.”
    â€œI know that you rarely open the townhouse. Where do you stay?”
    â€œI stay at a hotel or with friends who are kind enough to issue an invitation.” The dark eyes stabbed him with a growing annoyance. “Why do you ask?”
    Ian shrugged, his smile one of utter innocence. It was the smile he used when he was about to fleece his latest pigeon.
    â€œI just think it odd that our paths have never crossed while you are there.”
    â€œSince we have little in common, I doubt that you would haunt the same establishments as myself.”
    â€œOh, I do not know. My tastes tend to be wide and varied.”
    â€œYes, so I have heard.” Norrington returned his attention to the plant, his tone without censure. Of course, it was also without the least amount of interest. “It has Ella quite worried.”
    Ian’s lips twisted. “But not you?”
    â€œWhatever my concerns, I believe that a man should be allowed to choose his own path.”
    â€œEven if it leads him to hell?”
    â€œIf that is your desire.”
    Ian grimaced, his elegant fingers absently toying with a pile of recently trimmed blooms that had been left to wilt on the counter. His father was rather ruthless in his obsession with pruning, whether it was fading plants or unwelcome family members.
    â€œI do not know if it is so much my desire as my curse,” he muttered.
    â€œCurse?” His father stiffened, almost as if he had a personal knowledge of curses, which was ridiculous. “Why would you say that?”
    â€œI seem to possess a natural tendency to seek out trouble whenever possible. It is a pity I did not inherit your own delight in peace.” Gathering the blooms, Ian absently scattered them over the floor, his gaze trained on the broken