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 çi, comme ça. 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
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 çi, comme ça. 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
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