Not him. The last thing Stephen wanted was a wife. He’d had his fill of maternal badgering and his father’s guidelines on Appropriate Women to Wed. When his mother had presented him with her first choice of a bride and a list of possible wedding guests, that had been the final straw. He’d left London without a word of warning, for fear he’d wake up one morning and find himself standing in a church, bound and gagged before the altar.

He noticed his butler Farnsworth shifting his weight from foot to foot. An envelope rested in his hands.

“It’s from my mother, isn’t it?” Stephen predicted.

The butler nodded. “I’m afraid so. And she bade me give you this, my lord. It was among your grandmother’s jewels here at Falkirk.” Farnsworth handed Stephen a velvet pouch. Inside was a ruby ring set with gold.

“Well, it didn’t take Lady Rothburne long to find me.” Were it not for the efficient train service, he’d have gotten a full week of peace, at least.

Stephen took the note and glanced at the contents. Amid his mother’s two written paragraphs of outrage about his sudden disappearance, was also a list of reminders. Stephen was supposed to apply for his marriage license, use the suggested betrothal ring for his proposal when he returned to London, and speak to Viscount Carstairs about permission to wed his daughter.

My God, he hadn’t even asked anyone to marry him. Least of all Miss Harriet Hereford, the viscount’s daughter and his mother’s current Marital Selection of the Season.

Stephen crumpled up the note and strode over to the drawing room fireplace, dropping the list into the coals. He’d marry whomever he pleased, whenever he wanted to. Not because it was his duty to do so.

He shoved the heirloom ring into his waistcoat pocket, remembering suddenly that he hadn’t made any of the arrangements for tonight’s dinner. “Farnsworth, I am hosting a small gathering this evening for the neighbors. Inform Cook to make the necessary preparations, and see to the invitations, if you will.” After a brief pause, he amended, “Only those neighbors with married daughters, if you don’t mind.”

While the butler strode off to do his bidding, Stephen paced the length of the drawing room. The dinner party was nothing but a means of getting Miss Barrow out of Hollingford House. But he had no idea what to do with her after that. He couldn’t very well send her back to her brother, given Hollingford’s ever-present creditors and lack of funds. Perhaps he could locate an elderly aunt or cousin and send her off to be a companion.