The viscountess leveled a look at her."Esme."
She subsided, knowing the truth was inescapable: Lord Watford had indeed been distant.After his conversation with Lady Honoria, he had retreated into a sort of stunned politeness, bowing at appropriate moments and then fleeing whenever Esme's gaze drifted too near.He had not once mentioned ink.
Esme could not pretend to mourn the loss, but her mother seemed determined to do it for her.
"His mother will hear of this," Mother went on."Honoria was with him for half the afternoon.Heaven only knows what mischief she planted.I feel sure it will not be to our advantage."
Esme spread marmalade too firmly and the toast cracked."Perhaps Lord Watford has simply realized we do not suit."
"Suitability is not a feeling," Mother said."It is an arrangement.You have good bloodlines, a modest dowry, and no visible deformities.He has land, a title, and?—"
"A passion for columns," Esme murmured.
Harrison folded his letter very precisely."You are not helping, Esme."
"I am not trying," she blurted.
His brows knit."If Watford withdraws, it will be noted.People will talk."
"They always do," she said."Perhaps they simply require fresh material."
Her mother inhaled sharply."Lady Esme?—"
The door opened.The butler entered with a tray.
“My lady, Miss Moreland has come to call."
Esme's heart leapt."At breakfast?"
"Miss Moreland," her mother repeated, faintly resigned, "comes at all hours."
"Yes," Genny said cheerfully, appearing in the doorway."It is my most endearing quality."
She swept in, curtsying to Mother, nodding to Harrison, and dropping into a chair beside Esme without invitation.
"I brought news," she announced, plucking a slice of toast from the rack."And an apology.And a question about ducks."
Mother pressed fingers to her temple."In that order?"
"We shall see," Genny said."Firstly, Watford is not ruined."
"Miss Moreland," Harrison said, "no one suggested?—"
"He is merely...rearranged," Genny continued.“Lady Honoria has taken him up as a project.She says he is 'tragically sincere' and 'desperately in need of guidance.'He blushed when she told him so."
Esme's stomach twisted."Guidance in what?"
"In avoiding ink-stained brides, I suspect," Genny said, “Lady Honoria has decided he requires a lady of 'tranquil disposition.'She has in mind that frightfully docile girl from Dorset—the one who faints whenever anyone mentions thunderstorms."
"That sounds ideal," Harrison muttered.
Woodmere looked pained."Miss Moreland?—"
"Do not fret, Lady Woodmere," Genny said, patting her hand.“Lady Honoria also declared that Esme is 'too vivid for ledgers.'Practically a compliment."
Esme blinked."She said that?"
"Verbatim.I wrote it down for posterity."
