“Ah. Then your father would be the Marquess of Feverton, I believe?”
“You know my father?”
“Not well, but we’ve been introduced, yes. He seems to be a pleasant enough fellow.”
“I’ll tell him you said so.”
He started to turn away, as if to make conversation with the person seated to his other side, and Lavinia felt a rush of panic. She couldn’t afford to lose his attention now that she had captured it. She had to do something—find some way to bring him back to her.
“Did you see the finches on the lawn?” she blurted.
It worked—he turned back. “Finches?”
She nodded, warming to the subject. “There were several of them. I love finches. They’re my favorite bird.”
“You have a favorite bird?”
“Oh, yes, don’t you? Finches are so social. I think it’s fascinating.”
He shook his head. He was smiling, but he didn’t look charmed. He looked as if he found her ridiculous. “I remember you now,” he said. “You’re the young lady who was talking about wine at the duke’s ball—as if ladies know anything about wine.” He chuckled. “It was quite amusing.”
“The things I said about wine were accurate,” she said. She couldn’t remember the details of what she had said, but she was sure it had been right. She wouldn’t have gone around talking about something she didn’t understand.
But Lord Billings didn’t seem willing to give Lavinia the benefit of the doubt. “No doubt you were repeating something you’d heard a man in your life say,” he said. “Without having the proper knowledge to really understand what you were speaking of…well, it was a good attempt, but you’d never get it right.”
“I got it from a book,” she told him. That was certain. “I remember the cover of the book. It had grapes on it.”
“A book with grapes on it,” he said skeptically. “Well, if you say so.”
And he turned away.
Lavinia was tempted to argue further, but it occurred to her that if he had truly been bothered by the idea that she might be lying, he would have continued the conversation. The problem wasn’t that he was sure she was misleading him—it was that he had no interest in this subject. He didn’t want to talk about how interesting finches were. He didn’t want to hear that she had read a book about wine.
This was what her father had warned her about. He had told her that gentlemen didn’t want this kind of conversation. They weren’t interested in hearing all the things she knew. They wantedherto listen tothem.
And she knew that—but she seemed to forget it every time she felt nervous. What was she supposed to do? She had twelve days in which to find a suitor, but how could she make that happen if the only thing she was allowed to do was smile charmingly and let the gentlemen choose whether they wanted her company or not?
There had to be more to it. Edwina knew how to do this. Lavinia was alone in finding it impossible, and she knew it. She had to try to figure out what she was doing wrong.
But she was running out of time in which to do it.
She glanced across the table and caught her father’s eye. It was clear that he was disappointed in her. He was frowning, and when he saw her looking his way, he shook his head slightly as if to indicate that he understood what had just happened with Lord Billings and he didn’t like it.
She could have predicted that. To his way of thinking, any opportunity to forge a connection with a gentleman was one she had a responsibility to take, and any gentleman who didn’t want a courtship following a conversation with her meant failure on her part.
He wanted her to do better, and if she didn’t—well, she knew what the consequences would be. She would be forced to marry against her will.
Twelve days.
Twelve days were all she had been given. After that, her last chance at the kind of marriage she dreamed of would fly out of the window.
From where she was sitting right now, it seemed impossible.
CHAPTER 2
“Your Grace, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Lady Genevieve.”
Seth Carter, Duke of Loxburgh, looked up from his meal into the sharp eyes of a lady in her mid-fifties. She had steel-gray hair and a conniving look on her face, but she smiled when she saw that she had his attention. She moved her chair back ever so slightly so that he could see across her to the young lady on her other side—this, he supposed, was Lady Genevieve.
