Eddie looked down at her lap. “I don’t suppose I do.”
Georgie grinned. “Women with less than you have managed quite nicely through the centuries. Look at Mother. And Grandmother, come to think of it.”
At the word, all three stopped, looking stricken. “Grandmother,” they all groaned.
None of them had managed to visit the old lady.
“Ooh,” Charlie spoke up. “I just thought of someone. If we want childbearing hips, Petra Vincent.”
The other two nodded.
“And she comes with vineyards,” Eddie agreed as she scribbled.
“Well, if that is a bonus,” Georgie said, “what about Margaret McEwan? She comes with a distillery.”
Charlie laughed. “I’ll marry her myself.”
“Which reminds me,” Eddie said, turning to face them. “We need an avowed rake.”
Georgie blinked. “For who?”
“Whom,” Eddie and Charlie corrected in unison.
Georgie waved them off. “Then why? And exactly how were you reminded?”
“Because Margaret McEwan didn’t finish her last season due to an unfortunate association with Lord Havers. Her parents caught a whiff of, as they called it, ‘unacceptable behavior’ on her part—I believe she was sneaking out to meet him—and yanked her back to Scotland before Havers could cause further damage. I suspect that as focused as Priscilla’s parents are about making the right match, any contact with a rake or real fortune hunter, they might think that it would be safer simply just to give her to her swain in the country.”
“Brilliant,” Charlie said. “Who do we know who might fit the bill?”
“Someone who owes us a favor and wouldn’t hurt her in any way,” Eddie added.
“So definitely not Havers,” Charlie decided. “He has no scruples. And he plays for keeps.”
“And he smells,” she and Georgie finished together.
Georgie laughed. “The only good thing about that is that you can always tell when he’s closing in. Who else?”
But they drew a blank. Nobody could think of one real rake to approach. Certainly not one who would be considered trustworthy.
They were brought up short by the sound of scratching on the door.
“Come,” Georgie called.
It was the maid, Minta. “’Scuse me, m’lady,” she said, with a quick curtsy and a suspiciously bright grin. “You ‘ave a visitor.”
Georgie looked to the mantel clock to see that it was almost time for tea. “Good heavens. Who could be calling this late?”
“Says his name is Lord Coleford?”
Georgie froze on the spot. “Good God. Not at the kitchen door.”
Minta giggled. “Lawz, no. Right through the front door.”
Eddie and Charlie were already busy tidying their hair.
“Did he say what he wants?” Georgie asked.
The maid laughed. “Not to the likes o’ me, he didn’t. But yer lady mother joined him a few minutes ago.”
