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Lady Joan winced. “That’s not an unreasonable way of thinking. It’s safe to say, then, that we will not be repeating our meeting.”
“No, I think not.”
She nodded, tilting her head to one side. Her eyes glittered with intelligence, and Benedict had the uncomfortable feeling of beingread, somehow.
“You’ve been preoccupied all afternoon, Your Grace. Can I ask why?”
Benedict hesitated, considering telling a lie. It felt wrong, somehow, especially after Lady Joan had been very honest with him.
“Imet a young lady who intrigued me recently. Unfortunately, she was not what I thought she was.”
“Hm. And yet she occupies your thoughts.”
Benedict blinked. “That is not what I mean.”
Lady Joan arched one pale eyebrow. “No, but it is what I see.”
Benedict sighed, shaking his head.
The poor woman is quite mad,he thought, and gestured for the ever-vigilant waiter to bring the bill.
The Dowager was waiting in the library for Benedict when he returned.
“No?” she asked.
“No.”
“Why not? Too intelligent, too opinionated, not pretty enough?”
“None of those things, Grandmother. Lady Joan is much more intelligent than I, and she wants a husband of her own caliber. Besides, I’ve never been one for academical study, you know that.”
The Dowager sighed. “So I had better strike Lady Joan off the list, then. That girl is too particular for her own good.”
Benedict sat down. He felt as though he’d spent far too much time languishing in here recently.
“Idon’t see anything wrong with holding out for the perfect partner.”
“Youwouldsay that. Well, we had better move onto the next girl. I had a feeling Lady Joan wouldn’t work out, so I have another suitable lady lined up for the same time tomorrow.”
Benedict covered his face with his hand, groaning. “Oh, Grandmother! Can’t I have a little breathing space? Please?”
“No. You can have breathing space when you’re courting a lady and hurrying towards the altar.”
“I’d really rather not.”
“Her name is Miss Alice Smith.” The Dowager continued, undaunted. “She’s a little younger than you prefer, but nice enough, and unbelievably wealthy. She is only just out, and I added her to our list as I thought she was very suitable. I think you’ll like her. She’s a very popular girl.”
‘AVery Popular Girl’ did not sound particularly attractive to Benedict. He prayed that she would cancel the meeting.
Miss Alice Smith did not cancel the meeting.
Rather than bringing a maid, she brought her mother. Mrs. Smith, a tall, thin woman with hair pulled austerely back from her face, stared silently at Benedict all the time, occasionally interrupted to ask impertinent and marriage-oriented questions.
Miss Smith herself was no more than sixteen, and far too young for Benedict to even consider. She was a very pretty young girl, and very aware of that fact. She had thick, golden-blonde curls which she tossed back from her face in an affected way. She talked incessantly about balls, suppers, gowns, and – with a carefully calculated glance at Benedict from under her eyelashes – beaus.
Mrs. Smith weighed in on this subject, making it quite clear that her beloved daughter had plenty of suitors, and Benedict should not at all consider himself at his leisure to attract her.
It was too much. Benedict longed for the quiet, rational talk of Lady Joan. More than that, he longed for Miss Wyre.
