“Very well, what else do you require in a gentleman?” Alexandra said.
Lavinia pressed her lips together. “I adore poetry. The man who wins my heart must write me not only poetry but ballads as well.”
“Ballads?” Alexandra wrinkled her nose. The maid gave her mistress a questioning sideways glance.
“Yes, love ballads. I adore them,” Lavinia said. “And he must bring me flowers every time he comes to see me. Scads and scads of flowers. Not those sad little offerings from the park, but large, lovely ones he has carted in from his conservatory in the country.”
Alexandra shook her head. Of course, his conservatory. Because any man worthy of Lavinia would be the proud owner of a conservatory filled with large, gorgeous flowers with which to woo her.
“And he must be a fine horseman,” Lavinia continued. “You know how much I adore my dear Bonnie in the country.”
It was true. The only living thing her sister seemed to cherish was her horse. “Is there anything else?”
“All the normal things, of course. He must be handsome, titled, honorable. He cannot live too far away. I shouldn’t like to travel a great distance to visit Mother and Father. That would be terribly inconvenient.”
Mustn’t inconvenience her.
“And he shouldn’t be of such a strong mind that he won’t allow me to redecorate our country house as I see fit.”
Never think it.
“He shouldn’t be too terribly interested in politics. I shouldn’t like to have to discuss such boring subjects at every dinner party.”
The horror.
“What about wit?” Alexandra offered.
Lavinia bared her teeth. “Wit? Why would I want that? Wit is overrated.”
No, it’s not. “Anything else?”
“I prefer a man with an artist’s heart who can speak to me about horses and poetry with equal verve. Someone with soft hands who might play me a love ballad on a mandolin.” She sighed and stared dreamily off toward her pink wallpaper.
An artist’s heart? What did that mean? And a mandolin? Really? Alexandra and Martha exchanged another skeptical glance. Her sister’s perfect groom didn’t sound appealing to Alexandra in the least. Though, thankfully, he also sounded completely opposite of Lord Owen Monroe. As she had suspected, her sister and Lord Owen were not suited at all.
“You’re quite certain Lord Owen doesn’t tempt you?” Alexandra asked.
Lavinia raised a brow and wrinkled her nose. “Not in the least. Why, I’m looking for the perfect romantic gentleman. Can you imagine Lord Owen being a romantic? Or a gentleman?”
A romantic gentleman? No, indeed, Alexandra could not imagine it. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Very well, if you’re certain.”
“Entirely. I suppose I’ll eventually have to go to the Continent to find such a man,” Lavinia finished with a sniff. “I daresay I’ve yet to meet a suitable candidate in three years of attending those monotonous ton parties.”
“I have a much better idea of what you’re seeking,” Alexandra said, her cheery tone returning. She stood, smoothed her light green skirts, and headed for the door. “That’s exactly whom I shall look for. I’m certain such a man exists.” Somewhere. Though Alexandra doubted it. He sounded like a medieval knight straight out of a tale worthy of King Arthur, only without the manliness.
Lavinia contemplated her creamy hands. “I doubt you’ll have luck when Mother’s failed all these years.”
“I’ll certainly do my best,” Alexandra replied, smiling optimistically at her sister. Why did Lavinia never respond to a genuine smile? Alexandra began to turn toward the door.
“Wait,” Lavinia said, pulling her hand away from the maid sharply with a loud, “That’s enough!” Martha backed away quickly, most likely in fear of being slapped.
“What?” Alexandra stopped and stared at Lavinia.
“You never said what you heard about Lord Owen. About me.”
Of course her sister couldn’t resist discussing her favorite topic. Herself.
Alexandra cleared her throat. “I heard he’s taken with you and intends to court you.”
Lavinia smiled a catlike smile and settled back into her seat. “Oh, of course he does. Too bad for him, he doesn’t stand a chance.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Owen set his horse, Apollo, to a gallop. He’d ridden out to the countryside just past town today in order to see a bit of horseflesh he was considering buying. Of course, the horse had been no Apollo, but the sleek Arabian was an incomparable. He stroked the horse’s dark silky mane. The new animal would be for training. Training and selling. Owen’s favorite and only decent pastime and one with which he augmented his monthly allowance. He’d decided to purchase the stallion. He had only to make arrangements with his father’s stable master first.