The brothers set off on horseback the next week, riding to London. The earl's crested carriage followed with their luggage.

"We could have waited a while," Daryl said. "The Season doesn't officially start for a few weeks."

"Thought we might as well get settled before then," Merle replied. "I sent a message last week to get the town house opened up and ready for us. Besides, we have to get kitted out. I need to dandify myself. You've worn uniform for years and only clothes made by the village tailor since coming home. I'll stand the cost to have you outfitted."

"Generous! How will I be repaying you?" Daryl was sure Merle wasn't doing this out of the goodness of his heart.

Merle grinned. "Need you to get me admitted to Almack's."

"You mean re-admitted?"

"Haven't been welcome the past two years. High sticklers, those women in charge. You know some of them, don't you?"

"One of them very well."

"Turn her up sweet. They like you. They'll let me back in."

Daryl wasn't surprised to learn that his brother had been denied entrance. The Patronesses of Almack's were a committee of ladies who were the social arbiters of Society. They decided who would be seen in the Assembly Rooms at the Wednesday night balls. The club was informally known as the Marriage Mart and most ladies and gentlemen wishing to be wed would be found there. Good birth, pleasing manners and a recommendation from one of the Patronesses would get you in. To remain required that you do nothing distasteful in the eyes of the Polite World.

It was a pleasant ride. Benford Park lay about 70 miles southeast of London. They broke up the journey at an inn along the way and arrived at Dixon House in Grosvenor Square in time for luncheon on the second day.

The country seat of the earl was Benford Park, peerage and property granted by the crown to an ancestor for services rendered. The London residence was known by the family surname. The original country home, Dixon Manor, was still in the family and was only a few miles from Benford Park. When Merle married, Daryl would remove to the manor.

Daryl's first act the next day was a morning call on Mrs. Peletier, widow of fellow soldier Edward Peletier. Carol had married without her family's approval and regretted it soon after but she determined to make the best of her decision. The union was not a particularly happy one but she loyally followed her husband to the Continent, gave birth to their daughter and upon his death a few years later, returned to England where she rose to an enviable position in the Ton. Daryl had met her abroad and admired her greatly. After her husband died, he happened to be taking leave at the same time and had escorted the new widow and her daughter home to England. Daryl was one of the few people who knew the real woman behind the mask of perfect propriety she wore so graciously. Traveling in the train of an army is an education most ladies do not receive. Carol Peletier could live comfortably in camp conditions, dress battle wounds and nurse the sick and dying. She could load and fire almost as well as Daryl.

The door was opened by Carol's butler. He smiled when he saw Daryl. "Good morning, Major Dixon."

"Just Mr. Dixon now, Tyreese. I sold out."

"I hope that means we'll see more of you, sir."

"You will for awhile. I'm in London for the Season. How is your sister?"

"She's got a beau. You remember Mrs. P had taken on Robert as footman last time you were here? He declared himself."

"And are his feelings returned?"

"Sasha's not one to give in easily but I believe he'll win her over."

Carol was comfortable but not wealthy. She owned a small house and employed three servants who were devoted to her. Their regard was reciprocated. It was an unusual relationship between employer and servants. Daryl was aware that when Carol had no evening commitment, the four of them were likely to be in the sitting room playing cards followed by a glass of sherry before bed. Daryl had joined them once or twice when he was on leave.

Carol was delighted to receive him and renew their acquaintance. They spent a few minutes catching up before Daryl came to the point.

"My brother is on the hunt."

"At last. So many mamas have given up hope of snagging that earl for their girl."

"Merle begs pardon for past transgressions and requests permission to stalk the pretty birds in your establishment."

Carol's lips twitched. "Got you to do his dirty work for him?"

"He was quite certain you'd refuse him and fairly certain you wouldn't refuse me."

"Hmm. He has been better behaved recently. And I understand he went to Waterloo himself to rescue you."

"He wanted me to marry and provide an heir to the earldom. I'm grateful to him but not enough to be shackled."

"It's not completely up to me, you know, but I will speak to the Patronesses."

"That's all I ask. They love a reformed rake. Tell them he's given up his dissolute ways."

"Is it true?"

"For the Season, at least. I'll keep an eye on him."

"Very well."

"How is little Sophia?" Daryl asked.

"Growing up," Carol replied. "See for yourself." She rang for Sasha and asked that her daughter be brought to the sitting room.

Daryl had last seen Sophia three years before. She had been a child then and was still a schoolroom miss but well on her way to becoming a young lady.

Twelve now, sweet and pretty, with long fair ringlets, she remembered Daryl and curtsied shyly.

Daryl bowed, kissed her hand and said he expected her to save him a dance in a few years when she put up her hair and let down her skirts. Sophia retired, giggling.

"She'll take very well when you present her," Daryl told her mother who looked pleased and proud.

Daryl returned home to find Merle in a bad humor, having spent the morning with his housekeeper and butler. He had no patience for household affairs but was cheered considerably by Daryl's reminder that a wife would assume these duties.