Carlos, one of the footmen, entered the room with the tea service on a rolling cart. He set it up on the table between his lordship and the lady. Blue china cups and saucers, cream and sugar, and a delicate platter filled with pastries. As Carlos arranged things and poured tea, Lady Aleksander said, “You didn’t say, my lord, how you find London?”
“What I expected. It is as I recall it from my youth.”
Lady Aleksander looked dissatisfied with that response. Hattie understood—his answers were often not very illuminating. “One can’t help but wonder how you found it in your youth, then.”
He ignored her and said to Carlos, “Miss Woodchurch will have tea.”
Carlos brought her a cup of tea and winked at her. She wanted to shove him out of the way—she didn’t want to miss a moment of this exchange between Lady Aleksander and Lord Abbott now that she knew the landscape.
“But I rather imagine it is hard to form an opinion when one is mired in the review of an estate,” the lady continued. “Your mother said that the records are quite detailed.”
“Quite.”
“Then I will send a prayer that your work concludes soon and you might have some time to see a bit of our glorious old London.”
“Miss Woodchurch tells me that Hyde Park is worth the walk, if one arrives early.”
Hattie nearly spit out the tea she’d just sipped, and somehow managed to put the cup down. She could feel Lady Aleksander’s eyes on her.
“It certainly is,” Lady Aleksander said. “Now then. The Season begins this weekend with the highly anticipated Forsythe dinner. You may or may not be aware that the Forsythes are dedicated to the arts and bringing people together. Many years ago, I had the pleasure of dining at their residence with a Russian opera singer and the Raj of India.”
The viscount nodded but did not seem moved by this bit of information. Hattie was, however. How exciting to dine with opera singers and a raj, whatever that meant.
Lady Aleksander was clearly expecting more of a conversation. When his lordship didn’t respond to her dining experience, the lady glanced at Hattie, then back at her journal. “Well. Enough of the small talk, then. Shall we get down to the meat of it?”
“By all means.”
“I like to begin with some personal inquiries, my lord. Your answers will assist me in finding a perfect match.”
“Is that possible?”
Yes, is that possible?Hattie desperately wanted to know.
“Well. As close to perfect as we might hope.”
“Hmm,” the viscount said. He sipped his whisky.
Lady Aleksander opened her journal. “I’d like to begin with your likes and dislikes in a potential spouse. For example, you may prefer a wife who is a companion in all things. Or you may prefer one who keeps her own calendar.”
How interesting! Hattie had never thought about marriage in that way. When she’d thought about marrying Rupert, she’d thought of the meals they would take, the children they would raise, the work they would do side by side in his store. She thought only about how she loved him and couldn’t wait to embark on that life with him.
Her stomach soured at the thought of him. How he’d disappointed her.
And then her stomach twisted again. She didn’t want to hear the viscount’s likes and dislikes. What if his list of dislikes described someone who was just like her?
Lady Aleksander leaned slightly forward. “I know it’s not the easiest thing to do, presenting your private desires for me to see.”
Certainly not!Hattie wanted to shout at her.
“It must feel daunting to enumerate what we need or want without thinking of a particular person.”
Hattie looked at the viscount and wondered if he was thinking of someone specific.
“But I’m rather good at my profession. It is a point of great pride that I’ve put people together for companionship and love, and not just a formidable alliance. I can do that with just a few details.”
“A formidable alliance? That sounds like war—not marriage,” he said.
“A good marriage should be both, in my humble opinion.”
