“What an interesting choice. This is hardly military history or astronomy. How did you find it?”
“Miss Woodchurch has lent it to me,” he said. “From one booklover to another.”
Lady Aleksander’s gaze snapped to Hattie so quickly that Hattie thought she must have done something wrong. “It is very good,” she said in her defense. “Have you read it?”
“I have.” Lady Aleksander hoisted the bag over her shoulder. “I certainly have, Miss Woodchurch.” She smiled, and that smile, Hattie thought, seemed too...personal. As if Lady Aleksander had seen some side of her that Hattie hadn’t intended to show. A blush crept up her neck.
“Good day, my lord! Miss Woodchurch!” She walked out of the room as if she’d never been vexed, as if the meeting had gone just as she’d planned, when it clearly had not.
When she had left, Hattie drew a deep breath. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been. She shyly shifted her gaze to the viscount.
He was looking at her. “You must think this all absurd. I know that I do.”
“Not at all.”
“Mmm,” he said, not believing her. “There are times my title brings with it necessities that I find...maddening.”
“I can only imagine.”
“I hope that you can’t. What do you think, Miss Woodchurch? Shall I find my perfect match in that book of hers?”
She sincerely hoped not. He was better than Dahlia and Christiana and maybe even...
No.She wouldn’t do that. Flora deserved happiness. But the tendril of jealousy was taking root. Flora could very well be the one to look at this man every day for the rest of her life. “I think you will!” she said brightly.
He snorted. “Would you happen to know the ladies mentioned?”
She quickly debated how much to say. That the world of the very privileged in London was quite small, and everyone knew everyone? That the only reason she knew any of them at all was a great act of kindness showed her by Lord Iddesleigh ten years ago, which had put her in a boarding school with so many of them? But she didn’t reallyknowthem. She would never live a life like theirs. “I am acquainted. A little.”
“Does your acquaintance lend itself to any wisdom for me?”
Why not? She had nothing to lose by offering what bit of insight she might have. “I would... I beg your pardon for what I am about to say—”
“Soundsominosa. Go on.”
“If you were to speak a little more when you meet them? To, ah...promote conversation, as it were. So that you might better acquaint yourself with them, as you said.”
He stared at her in a way that made Hattie think she’d crossed a line. But then he grinned. “Sí, sí, I’ve been told this all my life. Speak more, Teo.Habla más, Teo.Unfortunately, it is not my nature.”
Teo.They called him Teo. Hattie tucked that away in a little pocket in her heart. “Then I hope whoever you meet will do the speaking,” Hattie said. “It’s a pity, isn’t it, that most of them are not like me in that regard?”
He chuckled. “It is indeed.”
Hattie beamed inwardly.
“I wonder why, Miss Woodchurch, you may speak so freely when other ladies will not?”
“I think because I’m not afraid of you.”
That certainly caught his attention. “And you think these ladies are?”
“You’re an important man. One misstep could ruin their Season.”
He frowned. “That’s absurd. What of your Season? You don’t fear a misstep.”
HerSeason? She didn’t have a Season. She had a spring, a stretch of three months where she hoped to earn enough to leave her abominable family and home life—which he would never encounter, thank the heavens. “It’s not the same for me. I am not expected to marry a viscount.” She wasn’t expected to marry anyone. Not anymore. Not since Rupert had ended things. “I think you will find a good match here. I really do.” He would. It would be Flora.
He gazed at her a little longer. “Perhaps,” he said, and returned to his desk.
