Sir Franklin cleared his throat. “We were not without our difficulties. But no, I cannot claim to be a military man.”
“No,” Gideon agreed cheerfully. “And your fortune — is that also connected to this church business?”
“Partially,” Sir Franklin said, shifting in his seat. “My father was a landowner. I inherited his estate, which was rather substantial. There is a mine, and?—”
“So you did not come about your wealth through your own efforts either,” Gideon said, with every appearance of relief. “That makes me feel considerably better. I came about not one but two titles entirely by chance and the unfortunate driving habits of a distant cousin.” He chuckled and reached for one of the buns, biting into it with considerable enthusiasm. A small shower of crumbs descended onto his lap, which he brushed off onto the carpet without the faintest sign of concern.
Helena watched this performance with a mixture of exasperation and helpless amusement.
“Well,” she said, stepping in before Gideon could continue, “society is rather built on inherited fortunes, is it not.” She paused, choosing her next words with care. She wanted to ask why Sir Franklin had never married at his age, but she remembered the note about his lost fiancée and did not wish to be indelicate. She opened her mouth.
“Perhaps Helena is wondering,” Gideon said, “why a distinguished gentleman such as yourself has not yet found himself a bride. You were engaged at some point, were you not?”
Sir Franklin’s shoulders drew together and he looked down at his plate. “I was,” he said quietly. “But Leticia... unfortunately...” He paused. “She left me. For a cousin of His Majesty. It was a rather unfortunate business.” He straightened again, with evident effort. “I was not looking for a bride for some years after that. And when I began looking again, I found that a great many young women were simply fortune hunters. It is exceedingly difficult to find a decent woman these days.”
“Or a husband, from what I hear,” Gideon said pleasantly. He turned to Sir Franklin leaning forward like a colonel reviewing a new recruit. “Now, given that you have never been married — what qualities would you say you possess that would make you a suitable husband for Lady Helena?”
Sir Franklin dropped his spoon with a clatter. He cleared his throat. It was abundantly clear that he had not anticipated an interrogation.
“Well, I am... I am... I am wealthy,” he managed. “I can provide financially. I own a townhouse here in St. James and a country house in Derbyshire. They are comfortable homes with good staff and …”
“Yes, yes,” Gideon said. “But would you say you are a caring person? Compassionate? I can already see you are a man of considerable gravity. But are you the sort of gentleman who could make a lady happy? Entertain her?”
Sir Franklin was visibly shrinking into his seat. A bead of perspiration had appeared on his forehead, and he cleared his throat for what was certainly not the last time.
“Well, I do possess a rather large library. There are horses. A pall-mall court. And I have a box at two theatres.”
“Excellent,” Gideon said. “Now, you are aware that Lady Helena has a child.”
Sir Franklin brightened at this, apparently relieved to be on safer ground. “Yes, a little girl. I meant to bring some sweet meats for her, but I was not certain what kind she prefers. Or indeed what she is able to eat at her age.”
“So you do not know a great deal about children,” Gideon’s grave tone suggested this was a matter of the utmost gravity.
“I have not been around many,” Sir Franklin admitted. “My sisters have children, and I have kept them company upon occasion, though they are usually with their governesses. But I find children utterly charming, and I would not be averse to having some of my own.” He raised his hands hastily. “If the lady is willing, of course.”
“Of course,” Helena said. She turned to Gideon with a look that she hoped conveyed, clearly and firmly, that enough was enough. “Your Grace, I am sure Sir Franklin has a few questions for me as well. We are, after all, here to become acquainted.”
“But of course.” Gideon leaned back and gestured magnanimously for Sir Franklin to proceed.
Sir Franklin drummed his fingers on the table. His eyes moved about the room. Whatever questions he might have had prepared, it was quite evident they had evacuated his mind under the pressure of the preceding conversation.
“What is your favourite color?” he asked.
Beside her, she sensed rather than saw Gideon’s eyebrows rise.
“Yellow, I suppose,” she said pleasantly. “It is cheerful. It reminds me of the sun. And yours?”
He paused, as though she had posed a question of considerable philosophical complexity.
“Blue,” he said at last. “It is... pretty. Like the sky.”
“Indeed it is.”
From somewhere at the back of the house, Lavinia began to squeal. Helena moved to rise but felt Gideon’s hand close briefly around her wrist beneath the table, pressing her back into her seat. She did not appreciate the liberty but held her tongue.
“Excuse me a moment.” Gideon rose and disappeared down the hall.
“How old is your child?” Sir Franklin asked.
