It was a bright summer day and the sun gave its rays lovingly, as it spread its light over the harebells in the adjoining fields. The purple tints of heather brushed the breeze with a gentle scent as the black carriage passed and invited all passerbys to enjoy the intoxicating fruits of the season. However, the duke was lost in thought. Refreshed by a night’s rest, the viscount’s driver seemed to have forgotten the event of the previous day. He made no mention of it to the duke when he opened the door for the duke to climb inside earlier. Unlike Skip’s driver, the duke had not passed a restful evening and did not notice the beauty of the passing landscape. He cared naught for the poetic sweetness of a pleasant summer’s day, and in fact, he was in a black mood. He sat back in Skip’s coach, his hat on the seat beside him and made a mess of his hair as his hands could not be stilled. His eyes were shaded by his thick lashes as flitting thoughts hurried about in his head. His meeting with Chauncey the previous afternoon had gone from close-mouthed suspicion on the groom’s part to sudden undisguised and open frankness.
