It had been more than five years since he had been involved with a woman. Five long, difficult years since the sick obsession that had destroyed every claim he had to honor and dignity. The madness had been useful during his warrior years, but it had warped his soul. Sanity had returned only after he had come perilously close to committing a deed that would have been truly unforgivable.

His mind sheered away, for it was painful to remember how he had betrayed his deepest beliefs. But the people he had wronged had forgiven him freely. It was time to stop flagellating himself and look to the future.

Which brought him back to the subject of a wife. His expectations were not unrealistic. While he was no paragon, he was presentable, well-born, and had a more than adequate fortune. He also had enough shortcomings that any self-respecting female would itch to improve him.

He wasn't looking for a grand passion. Christ, that was the last thing he wanted. He was incapable of that kind of love; what he had thought was a grand passion had been a warped, pathetic obsession. Instead of seeking romance, he would look for a woman of warmth and intelligence who would be a good companion. Someone with experience of life. Though she must be attractive enough to be beddable, great beauty was not necessary. In fact, based on his experience, stunning looks were a liability. Thank God he was past first youth and the idiotic susceptibility that went with it.

Personality and appearance were easy to assess. More difficult, but more vital, she must be honest and unflinchingly loyal. He had learned the hard way that without honesty, there was nothing.

Since this corner of Wales had few eligible females, he must go to London for the Season. It would be pleasant to spend a few months with no goal but pleasure. With luck, he would find a comfortable woman to share his life. If not, there would be other Seasons.