Prologue

Chase Oaks—Essex—February 1810

S ilas Chase, Viscount Blankenship, grinned at his uncle. Raising his glass, he said, "Happy Birthday, Uncle Oscar."

"Same to you, my boy," his uncle replied, tapping Silas' snifter against his own and then taking a deep drink of the whisky.

They sat in the study at Chase Oaks, his country estate. Although Silas held the viscountcy, it was his uncle who ran the estate for him. Uncle Oscar, who had never wed, had been steward at another lord's estate when his brother dropped dead from a sudden heart attack. Silas had only been eight and ten, about to leave for university, bewildered by what he should do.

Uncle Oscar had smoothed everything over, handling matters with the solicitor, promising his nephew that he would come to Chase Oaks and manage the property for him, along with anything else that came up. He had told Silas university was a time of exploration. To learn about himself and the world. That Chase Oaks would be safe while he matured.

His uncle was the only one who ever made Silas feel loved. His parents ignored him, as did most adults of Polite Society when they produced children. They eagerly awaited an heir and when they got one, promptly abandoned them to the nursery. It was a familiar story he had heard, over and over, both at Eton and Cambridge. Everyone talked about how you were supposed to value family, but Silas had never felt a connection to his, other than with Uncle Oscar.

Because he had never felt loved by his parents, he had sought it elsewhere, from the classroom to the playing fields. He was bright and charming, which took him a long way. Other boys wanted to be his friend, and his good looks allowed him to get his way in school—and with women. Through his education, Silas had hated rules and broke all he could, often in the company of his friend, August Holt. August had left for the war, though, after they had finished their careers at Cambridge. He had lost track of the man he had called brother, thinking of August often and hoping his friend wasn't dead at the hands of some French bastard.

"Now that you are an entire quarter-century old, what plans do you have for your life?" Uncle Oscar asked.

Silas was almost ashamed, knowing he had none. Ever since he had left Cambridge, he spent quite a bit of his time in town. The ton looked upon him as one of its most charming rogues. He drank and gambled and ran with a fast crowd in London, but he did come home to Chase Oaks upon occasion. Those weeks had grown special to him. Uncle Oscar had made considerable improvements on the estate, and it ran like a fine Swiss clock. In a way, he almost wished he would remain in the country for greater lengths of time, especially since his life as a rake was growing old.

"Are you thinking me long in the tooth?" he teased. "If anyone is, it is you. I might be five and twenty today, but you are celebrating five and fifty today, Uncle."

For a moment, his uncle's countenance turned sad. "I have little to show for my years on this earth, Silas. I never wed. Never had children. Never owned a house—or anything else."

"You are like a father to me," he insisted. "Much more one than my blood one ever was. Papa and Mama ignored me for the most part."

Uncle Oscar shrugged. "It is the nature of Polite Society, my boy. Our father did the same to us. The cycle merely repeats itself." He paused, meeting Silas' gaze. "But I do believe family is very important. I hope you will be a different man—and a much different father—than the one you had. I pray every night that you will find a woman to love and that you will be a father present in your children's lives."

He snorted. "I have no plans to wed anytime soon, Uncle Oscar, and you know it."

His uncle grew serious. "I have said nothing to you, Silas, but this is a milestone birthday, so I will loosen my tongue for a bit. You are a man now. A viscount. You have an estate full of tenants who depend upon you. I know I encouraged you to find yourself. Sow your wild oats. But the time has come to grow up."

Frowning, he said, "You mean settle down. You want me to wed."

Nodding, Uncle Oscar said, "Yes, I do, Silas. I believe you can break out of the mold of rogue and become happy with what you have in life. I wish for you to become more actively involved in the managing of Chase Oaks. I hope you will find the love of a good woman and produce several children."

"Where is this coming from?" he demanded. "While I do enjoy my visits with you when I come to Chase Oaks, I have a life in town, Uncle. Yes, I will wed at some point and produce the necessary heir apparent. As far as love is concerned? Frankly, I doubt it exists. I have never witnessed it between a man and woman, certainly not any of the couples I see during the Season."

Uncle Oscar smiled ruefully at him. "Your parents gave you no love, and you have sought it in the arms of others. I know. I hear things, Silas."

He flushed, uncomfortable at the turn of their conversation. It was true. He had desperately thought to find love. Instead, only emptiness abounded everywhere. It was why he remained a rogue, a man who refused to commit to one woman. Silas assumed eventually, he would make the typical ton marriage, coupling with his wife to get an heir and spare off her, but leading a separate life from her, with a mistress and spending time with his friends.

"It is hard for me to listen to you preach about the value of family when you had none yourself," he said, a bit too harshly, causing his uncle to flinch.

Tempering his tone, Silas said, "If you need me to spend more time at Chase Oaks, I will commit to doing so. You already have me interested in crops and gardening, in particular, something my friends in town tease me about unmercifully. As far as taking a wife, though? That is nothing I am concerned about anytime soon."

Uncle Oscar drained his snifter and set it down. "I want so much for you, my boy."

He frowned. "What has caused you to become so contemplative, Uncle? Is it this birthday you had today? Do you feel you are in the twilight of your life? Are you having any regrets?"

"I do not have long to live, Silas," Uncle Oscar revealed.

He sucked in a quick breath. "What?"

"I have been short of breath lately. It is harder for me to get around. The doctor says it is my heart. That something is wrong with it."

Concern filled him. "How long has he given you?" he asked carefully, tamping down the emotions surging within him.

"Not long. He thinks a few months. Perhaps longer if I behave myself. Take my medicine and get plenty of rest." His uncle smiled. "So, this is, most likely, the final birthday I celebrate. I just want you to be happy, Silas. Truly happy. You think you are, gadding about town, wearing the latest fashions, throwing money at women and upon gaming tables. But I tell you now—happiness is here."

His uncle tapped his chest. "It is within you. And if you can find a woman to love and partner with, it will flourish."

"You should not have kept this from me," he chided, a feeling of panic beginning to descend upon him. His uncle was the one true, good thing in his life. He could not imagine a world without Uncle Oscar in it.

"Well, now you know. Promise me that you will go into this upcoming Season and instead of playing the rake, you will have an eye to finding a wife."

Silas shook his head. "I cannot promise that, Uncle."

Uncle Oscar laughed. "Then I hope love smites you hard, my boy. That you fall hopelessly in love with a woman and find that you cannot live without her."

He stiffened. "The most I will do is look more closely at the ladies paraded about on the Marriage Mart, Uncle. I may take a wife sooner than I anticipated, but love will not be a part of this complicated equation that is marriage."

His uncle sighed. "At least you will look. That was more than I expected from you. I know it will be difficult to pull away from the friends you make merry with. Leaving your roguish ways behind might be the hardest obstacle you have faced in life."

"Let me help you to bed," Silas offered, his mind spinning. "You need your rest. You said so yourself."

Worry filled him. He had come to depend upon Uncle Oscar more than he realized.

Taking his uncle's elbow, he helped him rise from the chair. Why hadn't he noticed his uncle's hair had grayed more over recent visits? Or that he moved more slowly and wore a pained expression? Silas had been so caught up in himself that he had not thought to think of the only person who had ever shown him a sliver of love.

He guided Uncle Oscar to his bedchamber. The Chase Oaks steward had always been given a cottage upon the estate, but Silas had insisted that his uncle live in the main house and dine in it. Uncle Oscar had drawn the line at having a servant assigned to be his valet, though, preferring to take care of himself.

"Do you need any help?"

A loud snort sounded. "I am not that feeble, Silas."

"Then I bid you a good night."

Returning to his own rooms, Silas rang for his valet and readied for bed. He lay awake a good while, thinking on everything he had discussed with his uncle.

In the morning, he went down to the breakfast room, fretting when he saw his uncle had yet to arrive.

"I think I will go check on Mr. Chase," he told the butler.

When he tapped on Uncle Oscar's door, he received no response. Pushing open the door, Silas entered the bedchamber, which was still dark, with its curtains drawn.

He found his uncle still in bed, his lips turned up in a smile, as if he were content.

His uncle was also gone. Silas touched his cheek, finding it cold. Uncle Oscar had passed sometime during the night. He wondered if in telling his nephew of his condition, it allowed Uncle Oscar to finally let go.

One thing Silas did know. It was time he grew up. No more playing the rascal, merely seeking a good time. He now bore the full brunt of his responsibilities on his own shoulders, ones which Uncle Oscar had taken on for Silas when he was too young to do so himself.

The death of his beloved uncle had him completely rethinking his life. He would go into this Season with purpose, finding a wife and planning for his future. For all he knew, the heart problems which had troubled his father and uncle might have been passed down to him, as well. He needed to secure an heir—and the future of Chase Oaks.

Bending, he pressed his lips against Uncle Oscar's brow.

"I love you, Uncle. And I will become the man you thought I could be. That, I promise."