The Perfect Lover

A figure emerged from a minor path leading down and away from the house. A man, he started along the cross path toward them; stepping into a patch of moonlight, he looked up-and saw them. With no check in his stride, he stepped sideways, onto another of the myriad paths that riddled the dense shrubberries.

His shadow vanished. Leaves rustled, and he was gone.

An instant passed, then they each drew breath, faced forward, and walked on. They didn’t speak, nor did they catch each other’s eye.

Nevertheless, each knew what the others were thinking.

The man hadn’t been a guest, nor yet a servant or helper on the estate.

He’d been a gypsy, lean, dark, and handsome.

With his unruly black hair wildly disarranged, his coat undone, his shirttails loose and flapping.

It was difficult to imagine any innocent reason for such a man to have been up at the house, let alone leaving in such a fashion at such a late hour.

On the main lawn, they met Desmond, Ambrose, and Lucy, like them, heading back to the house.

Of Kitty, they saw no sign.

3

Well, then, miss!” Lady Osbaldestone sank into the armchair before the hearth in her bedchamber and fixed Portia with a knowing eye. “You may now confess to me what you’re about.”

“About?” Portia stared. She’d come to assist Lady O down to breakfast; standing in the middle of the room with the light from the window full on her, she found herself transfixed by her ladyship’s sharp gaze. She opened her lips to say she wasn’t about anything, then closed them.

Lady O snorted. “Indeed. We’ll save a lot of time if you just give it to me without any roundaboutation. You usually have your nose so high you don’t even notice the gentlemen about, yet yesterday you were not only studying them, you actually deigned to converse with them.” Folding her hands on the head of her cane, she leaned forward. “Why?”

Shrewd speculation gleamed in Lady O’s ink black eyes. She was old and very wise, steeped in the ton, the relationships and families; the number of marriages she’d seen and assisted in had to be legion. She was the perfect mentor for Portia’s new tack. If she chose to help.

If Portia had the courage to ask.

Clasping her hands, she drew breath and chose her words carefully. “I’ve decided it’s time I looked for a husband.”

Lady O blinked. “And you’re considering those here?”

“No! Well… yes.” She grimaced. “I haven’t any experience in this sort of thing-as you know.”

Lady O humphed. “I know you’ve wasted the last seven years, at least on that front.”

“I thought,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard, “that while I’m here, as I’ve decided I do want a husband, then it would be sensible to use the opportunity to learn how to go about selecting one. How to gather the information and understanding I will need to make an informed choice-indeed, to gauge what sort of attributes I should look for. What in a gentleman is most important to me.” She frowned, refocusing on Lady O’s face. “I assume different types of ladies would have different requirements?”

Lady O waggled a hand. “Comme ci, comme ca. I would say rather that some attributes are central, while others are more superficial. The central ones-the core of what most women seek-is not that different, woman to woman.”

“Oh. Well”-Portia lifted her head-“that’s what I hoped to clarify while here.”

Lady O’s gaze remained on her face for some moments, then she relaxed back in her chair.

“I saw you assessing the gentlemen last evening-which have you decided to consider?”

The moment of decision. She would need help, at the very least some other lady with whom to discuss things, a lady she could trust. “I’d thought Simon, James, and Charlie. They seem obvious candidates. And although I suspect Desmond’s interest is fixed on Winifred, I thought I’d consider him, too, purely as an exercise in defining suitability.”

“Noticed that, did you? How do you read Winifred’s reaction?”

“Undecided. I thought I could learn something by watching her make up her mind.”

“Except that she’s thirty and still unwed.” Lady O’s brows rose. “I wonder why?”

“Maybe she simply hadn’t thought of it before…” Portia caught Lady O’s eyes and grimaced. “She seems perfectly sensible, from all I’ve seen.”

“Indeed, which begs the question. But what of Ambrose? He’s the one eligible you haven’t mentioned.”

Portia shrugged. “He may be worth considering, but…” She wrinkled her nose, searching for words to describe her impression. “He’s ambitious, and set on a career in Parliament.”

“That should hardly count against him-just think of Michael Anstruther-Wetherby.”

“It’s not that, exactly.” She frowned. “It’s the form of ambition, I think. With Michael, he’s ambitious to serve, to govern well. To manage because he’s good at it, like his sister.”

Lady O nodded. “Very perceptive. I take it Ambrose is not driven by such a noble motive? I haven’t had a chance to speak much with him yet.”

“I think he wants the position purely for itself. Either for the power, or for whatever else it will give him. I didn’t sense any deeper reason.” She looked at Lady O. “But I might be maligning him-I haven’t probed at all.”

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time while we’re here-and yes, I agree, this is a most suitable venue to hone your skills.”

Lady O started to rise; Portia went to help her.

“Mind you”-Lady O straightened-“I daresay you’ll have your hands full considering Simon, James, and Charlie. You likely won’t have time to widen your field.”

The ghost of a superior smile hung about Lady O’s lips as she turned to the door; Portia wasn’t sure how to interpret it.

“You may report to me every evening, or every morning if you prefer. While here, you’re in my care, no matter how much your brother and you may think the reverse.” Lady O slanted a glance at her as they crossed to the door. “It’ll be interesting to learn, in this day and age, what you decide are the manly attributes you most desire.”

Portia inclined her head dutifully; neither of them was deceived. She would tell Lady O what transpired because she needed help and guidance, not because she recognized any responsibility on her ladyship’s part.

Reaching the door, she put her hand to the handle; Lady O pressed the tip of her cane to the door, stopping her from opening it. Portia glanced at her. And met her penetrating gaze.

“One point you didn’t explain-why, after seven long years in the ton, have you suddenly decided you should marry?”

There seemed no need for reservation; it was a normal enough reason, surely. “Children. Through helping at the Foundling House, I realized I liked-truly liked-working with young children. Caring for them, watching them grow, guiding them.” She felt the need rise up inside her simply at the thought. “But I want my own children to care for.

“Returning to the Chase only reinforced that-seeing Amelia and Luc with their brood, and of course Amanda and Martin visit frequently with theirs. It’s a madhouse but…”-her lips lifting wistfully, she held Lady O’s gaze-“it’s something I want.”

Perfectly serious, Lady O searched her eyes, then nodded. “Children. That’s all very well as an inciting impulse- the spur that has finally compelled you to lower your nose, see what’s around you, and consider marriage. Understandable, right, and proper. However”-she fixed Portia with a black stare-“that is not a suitable reason for marriage.”

She blinked. “It’s not?”

Lady O drew back her cane and gestured; Portia opened the door.

“But…”

“Don’t worry.” Head rising, Lady O swept down the corridor. “Just follow your plan and consider the eligibles,