He had finally taken it on himself to walk the perimeter of his property the day before when he'd run into Lady Arabella Blydon. He had been thinking about his encounter with her for quite some time. He probably should go over to Westonbirt and apologize to her for his rude behavior. Lord knew she wouldn't come over to Bletchford Manor after the way he'd treated her.

John winced. He was definitely going to have to come up with a new name for the place.

It was a nice house. Comfortable. Gracious but not palatial, and easily served by a small staff, which was fortunate, as he couldn't afford to employ a fleet of servants.

So there he was. He had a home-one that was his alone, not some place that he knew would never be his owing to the existence of five elder siblings. He had a nice income-a trifle depleted now that he'd bought a house, but he was fairly confident of his financial abilities after his earlier successes.

John checked his pocket watch. It was half past two in the afternoon, a good time to examine some of his fields to the west to see about farming. He wanted to make the soon-to-be-renamed Bletchford Manor as profitable as possible. A quick glance out the window told him that there wouldn't be a repeat of the previous day's downpour and he left his study, heading upstairs to fetch his hat.

He didn't get very far before Buxton, the aged butler who'd come with the house, stopped him.

"You have a caller, my lord," he intoned.

Surprised, John halted in his tracks. "Who is it, Buxton?"

"The Duke of Ashbourne, my lord. I took the liberty of showing him the blue salon."

John broke into a smile. "Ashbourne's here. Splendid." He hadn't realized that his old army friend lived so close when he'd bought Bletchford Manor, but it was an added bonus. He turned around and headed back down the stairs before coming to a bewildered halt in the hall. "Hell, Buxton," he groaned. "Which one is the blue salon?"