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Frank Hammersley offered Jane his hand, and she rose, still clutching the book. “My sister will take good care of you, Miss Fawkener, and we’ll look out for your visitor from the Foreign Office.”

Jane thanked him and took her leave of the two gentlemen. She followed Lady Violet to another office, less grand and austere than the first, but with a businesslike desk in spite of some feminine touches. Seated on a small sofa was an elegant lady a few years older than Lady Violet, who introduced her friend as Her Grace the Duchess of Huntingdon.

The lady with the bright green eyes and Titian hair laughed. “Violet likes to announce my title, but believe me, I’m just her copper ‘Penny’ when we are having a heart-to-heart talk.”

Lady Violet and Jane settled in pretty blue and white chinoiserie wing chairs, opposite the sofa, and Jane let the friends talk until tea arrived. Lady Violet made a face at a pair of round, flowered pots. “I’m afraid I’m only permitted herbal tea these days, Miss Fawkener, but you and Penny may have some of this lovely bohea.”

With a steaming cup in her hands and under the influence of her new companions’ easy manners, Jane found herself explaining her dependence on certain funds, which she could only obtain, according to her father’s will, by marrying. She did not mention the Foreign Office’s interference in her affairs. At the word entail both ladies shook their heads.

“And you find that you are not conveniently in love with some eligible gentleman?” The Duchess shook her head. “I’m afraid that puts you at the mercy of the London marriage mart.” She spoke with a sympathetic frankness that warmed Jane as much as the tea.

“I admit I don’t know the first thing about getting on in London, let alone finding a husband here. But surely a woman doesn’t find a husband with a guidebook?” She hefted the little book in her hand.

Lady Violet raised one dark brow. “I suspect that many a miss would consume that volume quite eagerly. You’ve no enthusiasm for the hunt?”

“Only to know how fast it may be done,” Jane confessed. Her throat ached in spite of the comforting tea. She needed money to search for her father, but marrying to gain money would mean accepting that her father was truly gone.

Lady Violet put down her tea. “All you have from your father is this guidebook? May I see it?”

Jane passed the book to her.

A tiny crease appeared on Lady Violet’s brow as she opened the book and read its title page. Her eyes flashed with interest as if she were trying to solve a puzzle. “I wonder what your father was thinking, Miss Fawkener? Presumably, from your knowledge of his character, you can see some hint of his intention. We must assume that he has your best interest at heart, but even to acquire certain funds, a hasty marriage hardly seems the sort of thing a wise father would advise.”

“But fathers rule, don’t they?” Her grace commented with a wistful laugh. “In my experience a dead father’s will has a powerful influence on a living daughter’s life.” She looked embarrassed at the strength of her opinion and turned to their hostess. “Violet, I really must take my leave and let you get to the bottom of this dear girl’s situation with all the privacy you need. But”—she turned to Jane, her eyes alight now with mirth—“I can offer one service I know to be of value to the husband hunter—an invitation to one of my Thursday evening gatherings. You may depend on me in this matter, Miss Fawkener.”

Lady Violet saw her friend out. Jane heard their parting laughter and it struck her that the lady missionaries on board ship, who had lent her the proper clothes to wear, had not laughed. At the time Jane had not recognized the lack, but now she realized how strange it had been not to laugh.

Lady Violet returned and settled in the blue chair, refreshing both their cups of tea. “My friend, Penny, has a great deal of influence in the fashionable world, and I think you’ll find her sincere in her offer.”

Of one thing Jane was sure. If her father wanted her to have the book, and if he had used his bankers rather than the Foreign Office to get the book into her hands, she needed to find its hidden meaning. Once her world stopped rocking unreasonably, she would study the cursed book again.

After a moment of silent contemplation, Lady Violet spoke. “Miss Fawkener, whatever you decide, your confidences are safe with me, but tell me, what are your immediate plans?”

“I’ve been advised to take rooms at Mivart’s Hotel.”

“You do not go to your family then?” Lady Violet did not conceal her surprise.

“None opened their doors.” It was one of the difficulties of Jane’s situation. She had no wasta as her neighbors in Halab would call it, no person in a position of influence to support her cause. The English consul in Halab had simply turned her over to the Foreign Office, and no one there wished to do a thing for her father.

Lady Violet made a sympathetic murmur. “Mivart’s costs can be quite steep. You’ll need additional funds. Have you any?”

“You think my two hundred pounds will not permit a hotel stay of any length?”

Violet looked grave for the first time in their conversation. “It might get you through months of frugal living in London, but it will last less than a fortnight at Mivart’s. The hotel will charge you for each bag a footman carries, the number of coals on your fire, and who knows what else.”

“I see.” Jane set down her tea. The hotel would consume the money she needed to launch the search for her father.

“Do not despair.” Violet reached out and gave Jane’s hand a squeeze. “As your bankers, we would be remiss if we did not help you reduce your expenses. You must have time in which to decide the future partner of your life. We also have the resources to…how shall I say it…investigate any gentleman not fully known to your family. Now, what may I do for you straightaway? I’m afraid you’ve been taken here and there, subjected to our government’s high-handedness, when what you most need is time to restore your powers.”

An aching lump rose in Jane’s throat at the unexpected kindness. “Thank you. I’d like to go to the hotel, if I may.”

“Of course.” Lady Violet stood. “You may wait to thank me, for I must warn you I can be of no very great help should you wish to pursue a match as The Husband Hunter’s Guide recommends. In the eyes of polite society, as a banker’s daughter, I’ve trespassed on exalted territory in marrying Lord Blackstone, a peer. I’ve only escaped total censure because Blackstone himself was considered too scandalous and too impoverished for a noble bride.”

Jane watched her companion. The lady’s eyes sparkled happily. “Of course, I suspect that sometimes, the least eligible gentlemen make the most remarkable husbands.”

The man you want to marry wishes to become a husband in time. That is to say, he, like the famous sinners of the past, wishes to repent of the follies and excesses of his youth, after he has fully enjoyed them and not before. The title “husband” has such a settled air of gravity and responsibility about it that young men do not rush to acquire it with the same eagerness with which they seek to become captains or majors in the army, commanders in the navy, or nonpareils of the sporting set. Therefore, you must consider the length of time a gentleman has been on the town and seek to learn from his acquaintance or his reputation whether he has acquired the dashing titles he once sought and is now disposed to seek the very title you alone can confer.

—The Husband Hunter’s Guide to London