“No, you stalk,” she teased.
“I am merely… supervising.”
Seraphine let out a long-suffering groan and shook her head. The man had an answer for everything. Unfortunately.
His gaze drifted toward Lord Whickham, who stood some distance away speaking with several gentlemen.
Immediately Seraphine knew she was about to dislike whatever came next.
“Whickham is not suitable,” he said as his gaze drifted towards the gentleman in question.
There it was.
Seraphine folded her arms across her chest and looked up at him with exaggerated patience. “Of course he isn't.”
“He isn't,” Damien replied without the slightest hint of irony.
“What terrible flaw does he possess?” she asked.
Damien took a thoughtful sip of lemonade before answering. “He loses his temper during card games.”
Seraphine blinked at him. “What?”
“He becomes quite irritable.”
“During cards?” she asked. She stared at him for a long moment, waiting for the rest of the explanation. When none came, she said, “That is your objection?”
“It demonstrates poor self-control,” Damien replied, as though he were discussing a matter of grave importance.
A laugh escaped her before she could stop it. “You cannot be serious, Your Grace.”
“I am entirely serious,” he said with a scowl. “He becomes cross when losing at cards. Nay, he becomesfurious.”
“Most gentlemen become cross when losing,” she said. “I fail to see how this affects a marriage.”
Damien looked at her as though she was being deliberately obtuse. “It indicates a temperament problem. He shouted at a deck of cards.”
“How alarming,” she said dryly.
“It is. If something so simple can set him off then he will not be able to keep his temper in check with his wife, or children,” he said.
Seraphine shook her head and continued down the garden path beside him. The man was infuriating. Every time she thought she had discovered the limits of his absurdity, he somehow managed to surpass them. Folding her arms across her chest, she shot him a look. “No candidate survives your inspection.”
“Incorrect,” Damien replied smoothly.
She glanced sideways at him. “Name one.”
“I am working on it. Give me time,” he said.
That answer was enough to make her stop altogether. Turning sharply to face him, she planted her hands on her hips. “So far, your assistance has consisted entirely of frightening away every man who speaks to me.”
Damien looked mildly offended by the accusation. “I frightened away two.”
“You punched a third one,” she said.
“He deserved it, of course,” he said.
With an exaggerated sigh, she resumed walking. “At this rate, I shall become a nun before finding a husband.”
