Page 12 of Convincing Marianne (The Widows of Lavender Cottage #2)

"How thoughtful. In that case, perhaps you'd be willing to observe this evening's visit? To ensure I'm applying proper entertaining protocols?"

The suggestion should have pleased Henry—it would allow him to assess this new suitor's worthiness while helping Lady Marianne present herself to best advantage. Instead, he found the prospect deeply unsettling.

"You want me to... supervise... your courtship?"

"Not supervise. Advise. You've just offered to help me learn conventional entertaining. This seems like an ideal opportunity for practical application."

Henry realized he'd somehow maneuvered himself into a position where refusing would contradict everything he'd just said about helping her find a suitable husband. "I suppose that would be... educational."

"Excellent. Shall we go inside? You can give me your first lesson in proper domestic presentation while I prepare for this evening's visit."

As they approached Lady Marianne's front door, Henry found himself asking, "What time is this gentleman expected?"

"Seven o'clock. For tea and conversation."

"Seven o'clock," Henry repeated, noting that he now had approximately eight hours to prepare Lady Marianne for an encounter with a man he already disliked sight unseen.

"You seem concerned," Lady Marianne observed, opening her front door and immediately being greeted by the usual chorus of animal welcomes.

"Not concerned. Simply... thorough. If we're going to do this properly, we need to address multiple aspects of presentation."

"Such as?"

Henry looked around Lady Marianne's sitting room, taking inventory of the challenges they faced. Gerald was roosting on the back of the best chair, Napoleon was practicing nautical terminology from his perch near the window, and Wellington had claimed the hearth rug as his personal domain.

"Such as creating an atmosphere conducive to serious conversation," Henry said carefully. "Which might require... relocating... some of your household members for the evening."

"You do want me to hide my animals."

"I want you to present your best self," Henry corrected, though he was beginning to realize the distinction might be meaningless if Lady Marianne's best self was inseparable from her menagerie.

"I see. And what other aspects of presentation require attention?"

Henry studied Lady Marianne objectively, trying to ignore the way afternoon light caught the gold threads in her hair and the way her eyes sparkled with what might have been amusement or irritation.

"Your appearance is naturally... pleasing," he said carefully. "Though perhaps a more formal arrangement of your hair, and a dress that suggests domestic accomplishment rather than... accessibility."

"Accessibility?"

"Approachability. Informality. You want to suggest that you're a serious prospect for marriage, not simply a... friendly neighbor."

Lady Marianne was looking at him with an expression that made Henry increasingly uncomfortable, though he couldn't identify exactly why.

"How helpful," she said. "And what topics of conversation would you recommend for encouraging this gentleman's serious interest?"

"Traditional feminine accomplishments. Music, perhaps, or literature. Domestic management skills. Your charitable interests—though perhaps emphasizing the more... conventional... aspects of the foundling work."

"The conventional aspects of helping illegitimate children."

"The organizational aspects," Henry clarified. "Your administrative skills, your ability to coordinate complex projects. Qualities that suggest you'd be capable of managing a household efficiently."

"Efficiently," Lady Marianne repeated.

"Exactly. And perhaps we could discuss how to... redirect... conversation if it turns toward more challenging topics."

"Such as?"

"Your animals. Your tendency toward impulsive rescue operations. Your preference for unconventional living arrangements." Henry paused, trying to think of diplomatic phrasing. "Anything that might suggest unpredictability."

"Because unpredictability is undesirable in a wife."

"Excessive unpredictability can be... concerning... to gentlemen seeking stable domestic partnerships," Henry said, wondering why this logical statement felt increasingly wrong the more he explained it.

Lady Marianne was quiet for a long moment, absently scratching behind Wellington's ears while she considered his advice.

"You're suggesting," she said finally, "that I should present myself as someone entirely different from who I actually am, in order to attract a husband who would presumably discover my true nature after marriage."

"Not entirely different. Simply... edited. Emphasizing your strengths while minimizing potential concerns."

"I see. And you believe this approach leads to successful marriages?"

"I believe it leads to marriages," Henry said, though he was beginning to question whether that was the same thing.

"How practical. Very well, Lord Alton. I accept your guidance. Shall we begin with rearranging the sitting room to suggest domestic efficiency rather than chaos?"

For the next two hours, Henry found himself engaged in the most peculiar afternoon of his adult life.

He directed Lady Marianne in relocating animals ("Gerald simply cannot remain on the furniture"), rearranging flowers ("fewer wildflowers, more formal arrangements"), and selecting appropriate reading material for display ("perhaps something other than 'Practical Animal Husbandry'").

But throughout the process, he found himself asking increasingly detailed questions about her expected visitor.

"This gentleman's name is Lord Pembroke?" Henry asked while helping to relocate Napoleon to a less prominent perch.

"Lord Pembroke, yes. Do you know him?"

"I know of him. Inherited recently, I believe. What are his interests?"

"I have no idea. Why does it matter?"

"Shared interests provide excellent conversation topics. What about his family? His estate management philosophy? His views on agricultural innovation?"

Lady Marianne paused in her flower arranging to look at him curiously. "You seem remarkably concerned with Lord Pembroke's qualifications."

"I simply want to ensure you're properly prepared for any direction the conversation might take," Henry said, though he wasn't entirely convinced by his own reasoning.

"How thorough of you. And what should I do if Lord Pembroke proves to be... unsuitable?"

"Unsuitable how?"

"Oh, any number of ways. Boring, arrogant, dismissive of my opinions, interested only in my inheritance..." Lady Marianne's tone was light, but Henry caught the underlying tension.

"Then you politely conclude the visit and don't encourage further attention," Henry said, surprised by the relief he felt at this possibility.

"And if he proves suitable?"

Henry found this question considerably more difficult to answer. "Then you... encourage his continued interest. While maintaining appropriate boundaries, of course."

"Of course. And how exactly does one encourage continued interest while maintaining appropriate boundaries?"

Henry realized he was being asked to provide advice on how Lady Marianne should conduct a successful courtship with another man, and the prospect was far more unpleasant than he'd anticipated.

"I suppose... attentive listening. Thoughtful questions about his interests. Perhaps some indication that you'd welcome future visits."

"Future visits," Lady Marianne repeated in that same neutral tone she'd been using all afternoon.

"If he proves worthy of your consideration," Henry added quickly.

"And you'll be able to assess his worthiness from... where exactly?"

Henry realized he hadn't thought through the logistics of his supervisory role. "Perhaps I could remain nearby? In case you need... assistance... managing any unexpected situations?"

"You want to eavesdrop on my courtship."

"I want to ensure your safety and provide guidance if needed," Henry corrected, though 'eavesdropping' was an uncomfortably accurate description of his intentions.

Lady Marianne studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "Very well. You may wait in the morning room. I'll leave the door slightly open so you can... observe... the proceedings."

"Excellent. That will allow me to provide useful feedback afterward."

"Feedback. Yes, I'm sure that will be... helpful."

As Henry prepared to leave and change for the evening's observation, he told himself he was simply being a good neighbor.

Lady Marianne needed guidance in conventional courtship, and he was qualified to provide it.

The fact that he felt increasingly agitated about Lord Pembroke's visit was merely natural concern for her welfare.

Nothing more.

But as he walked back to his own estate, Henry found himself hoping rather fervently that Lord Pembroke would prove to be thoroughly unsuitable for marriage to his neighbor.

For Lady Marianne's sake, of course. She deserved better than another fortune hunter or social climber.

Though if he was being entirely honest—which he wasn't quite ready to be—Henry was beginning to suspect that Lady Marianne deserved considerably better than anything he was prepared to offer her either.