Barton was not in a good mood. The day was bright and sunny, the birds were singing, the flowers were blooming, and he could smell freshly cut hay as he drove through the countryside. Everything was so confoundedly chirpy, it made him all the more irritable. Podimore, Barton’s valet, was sat in the back, wisely staying silent. Barton had almost forgotten he was there until he let out a startled gasp when they nearly collided with a horse and cart on a narrow lane. Barton went to sound the horn at the blasted vehicle but hesitated. It wasn’t the carter’s fault he was feeling so out of sorts. He simply didn’t want to spend his weekend at a 21st birthday party. He hadn’t even seen Connie since Christmas, and all he could remember about that visit was arguing over a game of charades.