Fletcher was not sure what to make of that. “What is the issue, then?”
“Well, I have been feeling for the last week or so that…” She looked off into the distance. “I mean, you saw him at the garden party.”
“Birds.”
“Yes, birds. And grain futures and balancing ledgers and the speed at which paint dries and any number of completely dull topics. It’s like once I learned he was boring, I couldn’t stop seeing it. Then he called on me yesterday and I tried again in earnest to learn what there was under his very good-looking surface.”
Fletcher’s heart pounded. His jealousy was becoming an ugly thing. “May we refrain from commenting on Rotherfeld’s looks?”
“They are relevant to my crisis,” said Louisa, although the edges of her mouth ticked up.
Devil take him. “Carry on.”
“I asked about his interests last week,” she said. “Do you know what he said his current keen interest is?”
“The growth of grass on the moors? The land speed of a specific species of snail?”
“Farming techniques.”
Fletcher was unable school his face. Rotherfeld truly was as scintillating as the reference books in Fletcher’s library—which was to say, not at all. “Farming techniques.”
“I had engaged him in conversation with the hope that I could find some topic on which you and he could find some common knowledge. The only time he came close was when discussing horse racing.”
“I do like a good race, but we’d run out of things to discuss in five minutes.”
“He likes the gambling part of it.”
Of course he did. Fletcher was more interested in the horses. “That is almost exciting, at least. A common gentlemanly pursuit.”
“Uh-huh. And then there are investments.”
“That holds some promise. What has he invested in?”
“Textiles.”
Fletcher laughed for lack of anything better to say. “Naturally. Why would he invest in anything risky or interesting?”
Louisa’s brow furrowed. “Do you not like Rotherfeld?”
Fletcher hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to approach this. He wanted Louisa to know what he really thought, and if she was open to it, he wanted to talk her out of marrying Rotherfeld, but he wasn’t sure he understood what she wanted. “Do you want my honest opinion?”
“Yes. Unvarnished truth.”
“I’ve only had an extended conversation with him once, and I’m sure he’s a perfectly nice fellow, but I found him boring. Which I’d apologize for saying, but you’ve said as much yourself.”
“I have, yes. I have a similar issue with him.”
“The birds.”
“Yes, but generally. I find conversation with him difficult to sustain. We swiftly run out of topics to discuss.”
Fletcher sighed. He struggled with whether to push or whether to let her get where he wanted her to go on her own. It occurred to him that even if he talked her out of marrying Rotherfeld, that did not mean she’d marry Fletcher, so maybe it was better to let her do the work. “Yes, but I don’t really think I should get involved with—”
“I kissed him.”
Fletcher’s stomach dropped. “You did?”
“You’re the one who suggested I enact some kind of intimate conversation with him. We were alone, so I brought up our wedding night. He put me off, but I asked him to kiss me, since we’re engaged and all and he’s barely touched me.”
