Lord Abbott chuckled.
Lady Aleksander looked down at her notes. “Miss Dahlia Cupperson is twenty-two years of age.”
Hattie had to stifle a squeal of surprise—Dahlia was smart and accomplished but had an unfortunate equine face. Queenie said she looked as if she ought to be stabled every night. Queenie could be very unkind for wont of a laugh.
“She is the daughter of Sir William Cupperson, whose fortune derives from mining.” Lady Aleksander looked up. “It is asubstantialfortune, my lord, as is her dowry. And, Miss Cupperson has had the pleasure of traveling to Spain.”
“Spain? Not Santiava?”
“Nevertheless, she has been closer to the duchy than most.”
The viscount quirked a brow. “I shall consider close proximity a point in her favor, then.”
Lady Aleksander’s smile was very tight. “Have I said anything about Miss Cupperson and her background you think you might find objectionable?”
“You’ve said very little—what would I possibly object to?”
The lady sighed. She looked at her journal again. “Miss Christiana Porter is considered one of theton’s beauties. Her family’s wealth is considerable, and her father manages an estate nearly as vast as your own. She has a lovely singing voice and is often called upon to lend her talents to suppers across town. She is nineteen years old.”
To hear Queenie tell it, Christiana’s mother had put that notion of talent into everyone’s head when, really, a lot of begging went into allowing Christiana to perform.
The viscount said, “I shall look forward to her performance.”
Lady Aleksander returned to her notes. Then she glanced up at him and smiled. “The next young lady is, I think, perhaps the best option for you in London. She is educated, well-liked, and her father is a respected viscount. He happens to have the ear of the prime minister. Apparently, they attended Eton together. His daughter is quite charming and speaks both English and French. She is two and twenty.”
Hattie’s heart began to pound—she knew someone who fit that description perfectly. She was—
“Miss Flora Raney.”
Hattie coughed on a swell of shock, drawing the viscount’s and Lady Aleksander’s attention to her. Hattie waved her hand. “Beg your pardon,” she said hoarsely. “I must have swallowed a gnat.”
“The window is not open,” the viscount pointed out.
Hattie coughed and, red-faced, stood up and walked stiffly to the sideboard. She poured water into a glass and downed it, put the glass down, and then shouted an internal chastisement at herself.What was wrong with you?Of course Flora would be in the running! Queenie had said it that day in the dress shop. Had there ever been any question? Flora was perfect in every way.
But Hattie wanted this man for herself. Not as a husband, obviously—she wasn’t delusional. But her work, her time with him—
She was being ridiculous. Hattie dug into her bank of mental fortitude and forced herself to get a grip. She swallowed and slowly turned to see them both still watching her. “All better,” she said, and went back to her seat and picked up her pen.Flora. The best of the lot.
“As I was saying,” Lady Aleksander continued, “I would consider Flora Raney a near perfect match for someone in your position.”
The viscount nodded. He stood. “Thank you, Lady Aleksander. They all sound perfectly reasonable.”
She looked at him. Then at the pastries. “You must have at least a few questions?”
He shook his head.
“Wouldn’t you like to know their—”
“I would like to discover their particular qualities on my own.”
Lady Aleksander looked as if she was desperate to say more. But she pressed her lips together and slowly closed her book. She picked up a pastry from the table and gained her feet. “I sincerely hope you do discover them on your own, my lord, but if you should need any assistance, I am here to help, my services commissioned by the duchy. I know you wouldn’t want to see those funds go to waste. Shall I come around next Monday and review the selections?”
“By all means. Please do help yourself to more of the chocolatines. They were made especially for you.”
“Thank you, but this one will do,” Lady Aleksander said pertly. As she made a move to leave, she happened to look at the table next to his chair.“Jane Eyre!”She smiled with delight. “You’re a reader, then?”
“One could say.”
