“I didn’t. She grew on me, and I gradually figured it out.” Lucas snorted at James’s reply. James Talbot was Lucas’s only real friend. They’d met in boarding school as young boys, and their close relationship had never waned. As adolescents, having barely finished their educations, they’d joined the army and had spent a decade fighting for the Crown. It was to have been a maturation process for them. They’d both been scalawags, especially Lucas, and despite Lord Sidwell’s high position in the world, Lucas had had to join the army or be jailed for his duel. The army had mellowed James, had tempered his rough edges as everyone had hoped, but it hadn’t had much of an effect on Lucas. He was as incorrigible as ever and probably always would be. He couldn’t figure out what he was doing. He’d been so aggravated in London that he’d desperately needed to see James, so he’d traveled to James’s home of Summerfield. Whenever Lucas was having difficulty, it was James’s company he sought.
