He was no more ready to take a wife than he was to settle down. Of course, one day he’d get married and have a large family—a family to take the place of the one he’d lost. Just not yet . . .

“Excuse me, my lord.” One of the attendants offered Joseph a glass of brandy. “This is compliments of the gentleman, Captain Hellyer.”

Joseph accepted the thick glass and followed the attendant’s nod to a man sitting stiffly among a cluster of chairs a short distance away. In a sharp navy coat, military trousers, and an old-fashioned silk cravat tied at his neck, he emanated an aura of authority. With slight threads of gray in a trim mustache and beard, the man appeared about the age Joseph’s father would have been.

Captain Hellyer raised his glass, filled only a quarter with the amber liquid, and silently greeted Joseph.

Joseph returned the gesture, took a sip, and let the brandy burn a hot trail down his throat.

Something in the captain’s eyes beckoned him, an intensity that informed Joseph the drink was but a bridge to a conversation he wished to have.

Who exactly was Captain Hellyer? And what could he possibly have to say? Joseph searched his mind for some knowledge of the man, any connection. But he could think of nothing of consequence. He’d been gone too often in recent years to keep abreast of the local news and gossip.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Joseph pushed himself up from his chair, handed his bat to the attendant hovering nearby, and crossed toward the captain.

“Captain Hellyer.” Joseph gave a slight bow. “Joseph Colville at your service, sir.”

The captain nodded at Joseph and waved to the empty chair next to him. “Lord Colville. Please. Sit.”

Joseph lowered himself into the chair, which was positioned so that the entire playing field spread out before him. A new game of cricket was under way, this one by younger fellows.

He and Anthony had been a part of a group like that, so full of zeal and excitement and industry. They’d had good times together, and if anyone should have had his life cut short, it should have been him, not Anthony.

“We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting before, Captain,” Joseph began, diverting his thoughts away from his brother.

“I knew your father.”

Joseph wanted to shrug but didn’t. Many had known the late Lord Colville. He’d been prominent in the House of Lords for many years.

As if sensing Joseph’s indifference, Captain Hellyer continued, “He was a good man. And if you’re even half the man he was, then I suspect you’re a good chap too.”

Joseph didn’t respond except to take another sip of brandy. He stared out the window, attempting to keep at bay the memories of his father. He had no wish to think on his father any more than he did his brother.