Sterling waited stiffly in the foyer of his villa for Countess Beaumont’s arrival. He’d requested her presence in a strongly worded letter a fortnight ago. They’d been married eight years now, and though he was loath to be anywhere near her it was time to produce an heir. After all, the least she could do was her duty after she and her scheming parents forced him into this farce.

To Sterling, the sooner they got this unfortunate business over with the better. He’d send her back to Scotland, or perhaps even farther this time to America. He’d heard the Caribbean was particularly lovely at this time of year, an excellent choice in case the Americans sent her back.

Nowhere truly felt far enough, admittedly she’d always gotten under his skin without trying. The sound of horse hooves pulled him from his musing. He walked out into the sunshine, a fragrant spring breeze ruffling his hair.

Sterling’s face was impassive as the Beaumont carriage rounded the corner and came into view. Despite his general feeling of irritation whenever his Countess was mentioned, now that she was so close he had an annoying hint of nervous energy. He hadn’t laid eyes on her since he’d sent her away the day after their wedding.

Well…that wasn’t entirely correct. That atrocious wedding night was truly the last time he’d looked at her properly. He hadn’t bothered to be there when she and her parents were sent away the day after. Let’s get this over with, he thought and held back a sigh as the carriage came to a stop.

The servants lining the path bowed politely as a footman opened the carriage door for the Countess and her maid. Sterling stepped forward, impatiently holding out a hand to help her down. “Countess.” He said her title as if it were a curse, his grey eyes unreadable as he waited for her to take his hand.