“I’d hoped that wasn’t the case,” Henrietta muttered.
Her sister sat down on the bed. “We just took a tour around the gardens and had the most wonderful time.”
“What about Lord Brixton?” Henrietta asked. “I thought you cared for him.”
“I do care for him, but why should I settle for a viscount when I could marry an earl?”
“You are marrying the man, not the title.”
“Yes, but I inherit the title once I marry the man,” Marjorie said.
Henrietta put her book down on the settee next to her as she contemplated her next words very carefully. “You should know that Lord Featherstone flirted with me.”
Marjorie furrowed her brows. “When was this?”
“When he first arrived,” Henrietta replied. “I spoke to him briefly before I retired upstairs.”
“What did he say?”
“He touched my arm in a familiar way and offered to lend an ear.”
Marjorie waved her hand dismissively in front of her. “You most likely misconstrued his intention.”
“I know what transpired.”
“Adam would never do such a thing.”
“Adam?” Henrietta repeated.
“Lord Featherstone gave me permission to call him by his given name,” Marjorie said.
“Do you think that is wise?”
Marjorie blinked. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You hardly know the man.”
“I know enough,” she argued.
“Besides being an earl, what else do you find appealing about Lord Featherstone?”
Marjorie pressed her lips together, then replied, “He is handsome.”
“What else?” Henrietta pressed.
“He is attentive to me, and he has the most interesting hunting stories.”
“Is that all?”
Rising in a huff, Marjorie said, “I believe that is sufficient.”
“No, it is not,” Henrietta argued. “You can’t base a marriage around the fact that he is currently attentive to you.”
Marjorie placed a hand on her hip. “How would you know?” she asked. “You aren’t married and are likely never to be.”
“That is terribly unfair of you to say.”
“It makes it no less true.”
