Who Will Take This Man?

Miss Chilton-Grizedale’s tsking cut off his words. She shot him a look of clear disapproval. “How vexing this is. Based on these comments, I’d made a perfect match for you, Lord Greybourne.”

“I did not intentionally curse myself, Miss Chilton-Grizedale.”

“But that does not make you any less cursed, now, does it, my lord?”

“How kind of you to point that out. Have you always had this compelling need to state the obvious?”

“I prefer to call it a reiteration of the pertinent facts-”

“Yes, I’m certain you do.”

“-and no, I only need to do so when certain people lose sight of the situation.”

“Ah. Certain people who are not showing a moment of brilliance, perhaps?”

She smiled sweetly. “I would not have presumed to imply as much-”

“Ha!”

“-but now that you mention it, yes.” Before he could reply, she turned to Catherine and asked, “Where were we? Oh, yes. The bride-to-be’s traits. What else?”

Catherine’s bemused gaze bounced between him and Miss Chilton-Grizedale, then she said, “She should, of course, be accomplished in handling the servants and know how to run the household.”

Miss Chilton-Grizedale, he noted, jotted down copious notes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth with concentration.

Catherine stroked her chin. “What else? Oh, yes. A love of dusty relics is an absolute must.”

“I fear no such woman exists,” Andrew chimed in. “A woman who does not abhor them would be enough to ask for.”

“All right,” Catherine agreed. “Philip, what else do you like?”

“I’m surprised you’ve bothered to ask. I like-”

“Animals,” Andrew said. “She must love large animals. He already has a puppy that, based on the size of its paws, promises to grow to the size of a pony.”

Catherine turned toward him. “A puppy? Did you bring him home from Egypt?”

“No. I found him on the way home from the docks. Abandoned.”

“Where is he now?”

“Resting in Bakari’s quarters. The beast had an injury which Bakari bandaged. He’s keeping him as still as possible for a few days to give its leg a chance to heal.”

Catherine gave him a fond smile. “You always did have a soft spot for abandoned creatures.”

“I’ve always felt a special kinship toward them,” Philip said quietly.

Miss Chilton-Grizedale’s hand moved swiftly across the vellum for several more seconds, then she looked up. “Anything else?”

“She should be an accomplished dancer,” Catherine said, which brought a guffaw from Andrew.

“Oh, most assuredly,” Andrew agreed, “so she can teach Philip how to dance.”

A confused frown puckered Catherine’s brow. “As I recall, Philip is a passable dancer.”

“Such effusive praise will surely swell my head,” Philip murmured.

Andrew laughed. “My dear Lady Bickley, the last time I saw him engaging in a dance, the din he raised sounded like a stomping herd of elephants.”

“Camels,” said Philip. “It was camels, not elephants. Several camels broke free of their tethers during a soiree in Alexandria and caused quite a commotion.” He glared at Andrew. “So all that stomping wasn’t me at all.”

Catherine coughed to cover an obvious laugh. “My relief knows no bounds. To continue, your future wife should possess at least a passing knowledge of French. And don’t you think she should know how to embroider, Philip? Even as a child you liked having your initials decorate your handkerchiefs.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Philip said. “Please be certain to add that to your list, Miss Chilton-Grizedale. ‘Must know how to embroider.’ I couldn’t possibly consider marrying a woman who was not handy with a needle and thread.”

Clearly his dry tone was not lost upon Miss Chilton-Grizedale. She looked up and their eyes met. One corner of her mouth twitched, and clear amusement glittered in her eyes. “I’ve not only added ‘expert embroiderer’ to the list, my lord, but I’ve placed a star next to it as well to denote its category as one of the utmost importance.”

She smiled at him, a simple gesture that sped up his heart to a ridiculous rate. A reluctant answering grin pulled at his lips, evaporating a measure of his irritation. Andrew issued a loud ahem, recalling Philip’s attention, and he realized he’d been grinning at Miss Chilton-Grizedale like an idiotic green schoolboy experiencing his first crush. She blinked twice, as if she, too, had forgotten the presence of others.

“Was there anything else you’d like added to the list, my lord?” she asked. “Perhaps something you find particularly abhorrent?”

“Philip detests liars,” Andrew said. “And didn’t we run into our share of them with those corrupt artifact dealers. Liars and thieves, nearly every one of them. Thankfully Philip possesses an excellent eye for spotting a forgery.”

Philip nodded slowly. “I cannot deny that I hate being lied to.”

Miss Chilton-Grizedale made a notation on the vellum. “So noted,” she said in a voice that sounded somewhat strained, “although I believe it is safe to say that no one enjoys being told falsehoods.” She turned her attention to Catherine. “Since that appears to finish this list, would you like to begin making up the guest list now, Lady Bickley?”

“Of course. That way I can send out the invitations early tomorrow.”

While Catherine and Miss Chilton-Grizedale sat at the desk near the windows, their heads close together as they plotted out the guest list, Philip and Andrew settled themselves on the opposite side of the room, near the marble fireplace, and began a game of chess. As Philip concentrated on resettling his ruffled feathers, they played in silence for some time, before Andrew said, “Edward came to the museum today.”

Guilt pricked Philip, and he raked his hand through his hair. “Damn, I’ve been so preoccupied with my own problems this evening, I completely forgot to ask about Edward. How were his spirits?” He didn’t add that he’d sent around a note to his solicitor late this afternoon instructing him to open an account in Edward’s name.

“Subdued. He’s planning to come again tomorrow.”

“Good. Focusing on something other than Mary will no doubt help him.”

“I agree. Obviously he’s mourning his wife, but it’s difficult to tell exactly what he’s thinking. He’s not an easy man to read.” Feeling the weight of Andrew’s stare, Philip looked up from the chessboard and found his friend’s gaze resting pointedly on him. “Not like some people.”

Philip raised his brows. “Meaning?”

Andrew leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Meaning that you are easier to read than a book, my friend.”

Philip stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t. I mean her.” He jerked his head toward the other side of the room. “That little exchange of words between you was quite telling. Not to mention the fact that you’ve been looking at her as if she’s an oasis and you’re dying of thirst.”

Bloody hell. Had he truly been that obvious? And when the devil had Andrew turned into such an enthusiastic observer of human behavior?

Andrew’s gaze flicked over to the two women in the corner, then he regarded Philip with an inscrutable expression. “Easy to see what the attraction is.”

To his annoyance, everything inside Philip tensed. Forcing a light tone, he said, “She is pretty, yes.”

“Actually, I don’t believe ‘pretty’ describes her at all. She is distinctive. Unusual. Striking. But not pretty.”

“Indeed? I hadn’t particularly noticed.”

“I see. Then I suppose you didn’t notice any of her other attributes, either.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the darker blue ring that surrounds her aqua irises, making her eyes appear like bottomless pools. Or the way her pale skin turns a delicate peach when she’s animated about something, or how incredibly shiny all that dark hair is. How long do you suppose her hair is? I suspect it at least reaches her waist.” He heaved a long sigh. “There’s nothing like a curvaceous woman with long, long hair. But I suppose you didn’t notice the fact that she is quite the curvy piece, either.”