Winnie scowled and cleared her throat. “Peter’s duchess must possess good teeth, clear skin, ample hips, and a healthy countenance.”
Jac slumped like a knitted doll. “It doesnotsay that.”
“It does! Peter, tell her.”
“I would like my children to be robust,” he said. That was perfectly reasonable.
Winnie snorted and turned her attention back to the page. This time, she spoke solemnly. “She must have a low register.” Her solemnity broke. “Brother, what does that even mean?”
“I cannot live with a woman who shrieks.” There was enough of that in his life, thank you very much, though he had enough self-preservation instincts not to say so out loud.
“Her hobbies, should she have them, must be befitting of a duchess—music, watercolors, charitable endeavors.”
Meg cleared her throat, obviously displeased, though Jac brightened. “Oh, Violet Lewis could be a good match. She is doing all that work down in Southwark.”
Winnie shuddered. “I like Violet, but I’m not sure that I could listen to her talk of poverty every day.”
He didn’t know Violet Lewis, but he knew the type of woman his sisters described—virtuous, principled, and withopinions. “No. This woman is to be the Duchess of Strafford. Her charitable endeavors should be genteel—hosting garden parties and the like.”
“Well, that’s dull,” Jac murmured.
“What of humor?” Meg asked, steel in her tone.
“It is unnecessary.”
“Intelligence?”
“No longer desirable. In fact, the more dimwitted, the less trouble she’ll be.”
All three sisters scowled. “What of kindness?” Meg continued.
“Preferable but not essential.”
She snatched the list from Winnie and waved it. “Brother, this is an entire one-hundred-eighty-degree turn from what you wanted a month ago. Your desires can’t possibly have shifted so drastically.”
A month ago, Eleanor and Booklover had been a handful of interesting conversations, and that was all. “What I wanted was a woman whose company I enjoyed, whose conversation was engaging, and who had ambition that matched mine.” He’d wanted a woman who could heat the space between them. “What I now realize is that such a woman is also disagreeable, shrewish, and entirely infuriating. I need her out of my life for good.”
Jac crossed her arms. “And you would settle for a wife you barely respect and whose company never gives you joy? That sounds lonely.”
“She must keep my house and bear my children.” That was it. Why did his sisters expect more from his marriage than he did? “I don’t require company. I have the three of you for that.”
That addendum mollified Jac somewhat, though after a moment, she reached for his hand. “We will not be here forever,brother,” she said. “We will all marry, eventually. Even Winnie, Lord help whoever takes her on.”
“Mean!”
“Truth.”
Megtsked, then returned her focus to him. “Do you have a list of these men who’ve offered up their daughters? It will be easier to whittle down the number of”—she coughed—“eligible candidates from the names you have rather than starting fresh.”
Peter retrieved another page of notes. “Thank you.”
She eyed him warily as she accepted the list. “Don’t thank us, brother. I’m not at all sure we’re doing you a favor.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“He truly did not show?” Mabel looked as heartbroken as Eleanor felt. The cab hit a deep pothole and Mabel wobbled, steadying herself against the door as Lillian toppled onto her. “But why?” she asked, when they’d righted themselves.
The bump had been an excuse for Eleanor to break eye contact and she did not remake it now. “I do not know.” When she’d asked Roland if there was a letter waiting on her way out the door that morning, he had shaken his head and something inside her had withered.
