“The pink,” Gabrielle replied without glancing at the dresses. “But common sense doesn’t really tell me what to look for, it merely helps me determine what I find agreeable about a man after I meet him.”
Margery tsked. “Kindness, tolerance, patience, honor, compassion—”
“Wait!” Gabrielle threw up a hand. “Some of those qualities aren’t going to be obvious or come to light easily. I could know a man for years and not find out if he’s honorable or not. Or is there a way to tell that I’m not thinking of?”
Margery tossed the pink dress on the bed, then moved to the bureau to fetch some underclothes. “You’re asking me if there’s a way to find out if a man has honor? Lord love you, lass, if I knew how to do that, I’d bottle it and sell it.”
Gabrielle sighed. “What else should I be looking for?”
“Your personal preferences, of course.”
“You mean like a good sense of humor? I’d really like that in a husband.”
“And?”
“A fine physique. I’m partial to that.”
Margery rolled her eyes. “No, you’re not. That Millford heir had a rotund gut to go with his handsome face.”
“Only a slight one and let’s not mention that snob,” Gabrielle said indignantly, then gasped, “Snobbery, of course! I won’t tolerate that!”
“What else?”
“A sallow complexion won’t do. I swear, half the men I’ve met here look like ghosts, they’re so pale.”
Margery chuckled. “And how would you know what a ghost looks like, eh?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be discounting complexions, girl. Stick a man out in the sun for a few days and that takes care of that, don’t it?”
“True.”
“Have you started that list, then, that you were thinking of making?”
“That’s what I’m doing now.”
“Well, don’t be making this husband hunt more difficult than it is by listing a whole slew of names. You want a few choices, not a headache sorting them out. How many are you starting with?”
“Just a few,” Gabrielle replied, then frowned. “I think you’re right, though. These other two men I was going to put on the list, I’m not really interested in. And that leaves just Wilbur Carlisle for now.”
“You like him?”
“He’s almost too perfect,” Gabrielle replied with a frown. “There’s nothing about him not to like.”
Margery chuckled. “Don’t you dare find fault with that, Gabby, so get that frown off of your brow and remember you’ve only been to two parties so far.”
Gabrielle grinned. “I know. Georgina has assured me there are many more men for me to meet. But I hope Wilbur will come by so you can have a look at him. I’d like your opinion—”
“All right, but my opinion won’t matter one bit and it shouldn’t,” Margery said. “Because you’ve already answered your own question, haven’t you? You know exactly what you want in a man. So go ahead and make your list, but trust your heart in the end.”
Margery said no more on the subject and helped her to dress as she did each morning, then went off for a cup of tea while Gabrielle sat down at the vanity to fix her hair in the simple coiffure she preferred for daytime. But Margery’s last remarks stuck in her mind, in particular, that she already knew what she wanted in a man. It struck her as odd that she’d saidman,rather than husband, but she didn’t find it odd at all that the only name that came to mind for amanwas Drew. And back came the giddiness, and the despair, that had kept her awake so long last night.
But remembering how good it had felt when he’d held her in his arms while they’d danced, she soon began thinking about ways she might get around her own objections to him—and overcome his. Her main, no, really her only objection to getting involved with Drew was that he was a sailor, and that was an objection because she didn’t want to spend her life pining away at home, month after month, waiting for her sailor to come home, just as her mother had done.It was pointless to love a man who loves the sea.That advice had been drummed into her since she was a child, and she’d taken it to heart. But that was before she’d gone to sea and discovered that she loved to sail. So where was it written that she had to stay at home and let her man go off to sea alone? Why couldn’t she live at sea with her husband?
As soon as that thought occurred to her, the despair was gone, leaving only the giddiness. His objections to getting involved with her were minor. So he didn’t want to get married. Maybe he onlythoughthe didn’t. And maybe that was because he’d never had a reason to give marriage serious consideration.
She could give him that reason, if she’d stop pushing him away with every other word out of her mouth. But she’d have to circumvent his own agenda first.A sweetheart in every port.That phrase was so very—annoying. She didn’t doubt he would have tried to make her his sweetheart in his English port if she weren’t actively seeking a husband. His outrageous remark about spending the night with her implied that he would.
