To Carter’s great annoyance, marriage was very much on his father’s mind these days. And when his father got his mind wrapped around something, he was more tenacious than a dog with a bone, refusing to drop it until he was satisfied with the result.

Carter admired his father, respected his father, loved his father. Yet he often did not agree with the duke, and on this matter they were very much at odds. Carter did not oppose the idea of marriage. He knew it was his duty to take a wife and beget an heir, and he fully intended to do it. He had actually made up his mind to find himself a wife this Season, but this would be done on his own terms. A concept his father had a great difficulty understanding.

Carter resumed his walk about the garden, his footsteps echoing through the balmy spring air. As he rounded another corner, a muffled sound brought his head up. He spied a man and woman locked in an embrace, their lips fused together. He turned his head away, but a louder noise brought it back around.

He squinted a little, then arched an eyebrow as the couple ended the embrace and the man sank to one knee, prostrating himself before the woman perched so elegantly on the garden bench.

Bloody hell! He had stumbled upon a marriage proposal. The sight made Carter’s gut clench. The night clouds shifted and a shaft of moonlight fell upon the pair, revealing the slight frame and somber profile of the gentleman. It was Arthur Pengrove.

Good Lord, what was the world coming to when a young, inexperienced pup like Pengrove took on the responsibilities of a wife? Carter continued to stare at the couple, suddenly feeling very old.

The future Mrs. Pengrove turned her head and he caught a glimpse of her features in the moonlight. She was very pretty. Delicate and refined. He thought he might have danced with her a few weeks ago, but was not entirely certain.