It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.*

Unless he has an aversion to marriage and a younger brother to inherit the title.

Lord Merle Dixon and the Honorable Daryl Dixon spent Christmas of 1815 quietly at Benford Park. Daryl had been wounded rather badly in the shoulder at Waterloo in June. Medical attention was not swift under battle conditions and the wound festered. The outcome might have been tragic but Merle had bullied his own physician into accompanying him to Belgium to treat Daryl and, when the patient could travel, had brought him home to England.

This action in the aftermath of the great battle had to satisfy Merle who had been itching to get into the fight. He had been restrained by the fact that he was the Earl of Benford and that his brother, a seasoned veteran of the Peninsular War, was already serving under the Duke of Wellington. Their father, the old earl, had purchased his son a cornetcy in the cavalry of the British Army when he was 18 and Daryl had spent the past dozen years in military service, a time-honored tradition for younger sons. But Napoleon was finally defeated and Merle, who had become earl upon his father's death five years before, had a new concern to occupy his mind. He urged Daryl to sell his commission and offered him the stewardship of Benford Park. Merle was tired of taking care of business. Daryl considered that his luck in battle may have run out. He appreciated Merle's intervention that probably saved his life and so he agreed. Daryl's junior officership had been bought, as was the custom, but he had earned field promotions himself and he retired with the rank of major.

The brothers had lived together since then, Daryl healing and learning his new duties and Merle brooding about the future. The old earl – not without reason – had considered the elder fruit of his loins to be somewhat of a wastrel and had kept Merle on a restricted allowance in the hope of curbing his expensive tastes and instilling self-discipline. Unfortunately it had the opposite effect so that when Merle inherited the title he went a little wild and indulged in excessive drinking, gaming and wenching. But Daryl's near miss and Merle's own advancing years had brought to mind what was owed to their heritage.

One morning at breakfast he took the plunge: "I'm 35, Daryl. Time to be thinking of the next generation."

Daryl had privately thought that a wife and family was the very thing to keep Merle in better order and was glad to know his brother's mind was running in the same direction. Except it wasn't.

Merle went on: "It's time you married and set up your nursery."

"Me? I thought you meant yourself!"

"I don't want a woman hanging about, nagging me to death."

"It's your duty. You're the earl."

"You're my heir."

"Only until you have a son."

"Marriage ain't for me. I don't want to live in an institution the rest of my life."

"I can't marry."

"Why not? Didn't get unmanned in the war, did you? A hurt shoulder won't prevent you making a brat."

Daryl sighed. He had hoped never to have this conversation. "Marriage ain't for me, either. I've no taste for women."

Merle let that sink in. "Meaning you have a taste for men?"

"Yes."

"Get over it."

"Can't."

"Try."

"Didn't work."

"Nothing?"

"The act was successful but I can't repeat it with any certainty. And I couldn't ask a lady to marry me in these circumstances."

Merle scowled. "Damnation! I was counting on you to do the right thing."

"Apologies, brother, but you have the title. It's your responsibility to secure the line."

"What if I marry and don't have a son? The title and property will revert to the crown when we're gone."

"There's no guarantee of a son for either of us. You just don't want to be the one who sacrificed his freedom and failed. Tell you what, if I end up inheriting and I'm not too old and feeble to procreate, I'll give it a shot."

"Fair enough. Suppose I'll have to go to London and look over the possibilities," Merle said gloomily. "All those god-awful parties." He paused to think. "We'll leave Tuesday next. Have your trunk packed and ready."

"No reason for me to go! I'll be better employed here on the estate."

"You're not getting off so easy. You'll suffer through the Season same as me."

Daryl gave in with good grace. He felt guilty about his shameful news and was grateful that Merle hadn't cut up ugly about it. The least he could do was support his brother in his search for a wife.

* First line of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen