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“Old enough to know what you have missed,” Lady Paget said thoughtfully. “I have the odd sense that the duke might come to the library before his carriage arrives. Once His Grace sees your bare feet, he may consider himself compromised. Lennox is a man of honor, you know.”

“Surely not!” Bea said. Toes—naked toes—could hardly be considered an indication of debauched behavior.

“Never underestimate the prurience of matrons’ imaginations,” Lady Paget advised. “Those ladies issue daily edicts regarding ladies’ reputations—which have been lost for far slighter reasons than your state of undress. More to the point, don’t you think it would be a satisfactory revenge if you scooped up Lady Regina’s brother?”

“Absolutely not!”

“You don’t like the duke?”

“No!”

“You sound like a bad actress, promising that she’s not in love with the squire. You know what I mean,” Lady Paget said, smiling widely. “A would-be nun, played by an absurdly pretty girl, who swears she doesn’t want to marry the hero. Are you trying to tell me that Lennox hasn’t bowled you over? I heard a rumor that he kept you talking in a corridor for twenty minutes.”

“He was very kind.”

Lady Paget snorted. “When he arrives, you can throw yourself into his arms and compromise him, or not, as you wish. I shall return to witness it myself. It’s the least I can do for your mother.”

“What?” Bea squealed.

“Compromise him,” Lady Paget repeated, as carelessly as if she were talking about a morning call or a ride in the park.

“I don’t understand.”

“Kiss him,” the lady clarified. “It would cause a marvelous scandal if you were caught in the act. Let’s see.” She glanced at the tall clock at the side of the room. “It’s just past nine o’clock now. That blighted salmon pate has ruined Clarissa’s debut, but a match between the two of you would eclipse my chef’s sins in the eyes of society.”

Bea would prefer that her marriage not be the result of bad fish paste, but she couldn’t find the right words to express that conviction.

Lady Paget didn’t wait for a response. “The duke will appear in a half hour. Don’t let him take you directly to the carriage. I’ll return at around ten, so fling yourself in his arms then, if you would like to be a duchess.”

Bea straightened her spine and tried to look very resolute. “I have no wish to be a duchess, Lady Paget.” Honesty caught up with her. “At least, not—”

The lady laughed. “Personally, I fancy the idea of you as Lady Regina’s sister-in-law.”

Bea shook her head and blurted out, “I can’t think of anything worse!”

“You’d have the upper hand,” Lady Paget pointed out. “Your mother would have liked to see you a duchess. But not, of course, if you’ve taken Lennox into dislike. When I was young …” Lady Paget said, a bit dreamily.

Bea waited.

“Well, I wouldn’t have scoffed at a man with those shoulders. Especially if he was handed to me on a silver platter, title included. Have you taken a good look at his legs?”

“No,” Bea said, untruthfully.

“He has a calf, unlike so many men out there,” Lady Paget said. “I daresay you’re the only unmarried lass in all of London who would refuse my offer. It’s a pity, because a duchess has a great deal of power over society, and I think you’d make an excellent one.”

Bea couldn’t think of anything less appealing.

“You have your mother’s figure, yet you don’t take advantage of it. What a marvelous model that would be for young ladies. Forget leaping on him—that duke will leap on you, given the slightest encouragement.”

“He will not!”

Lady Paget laughed, waggling her eyebrows. “You have much to learn of men.”

Bea couldn’t stop herself from asking: “Do I truly resemble my mother?”

“She was taller, but your eyes and mouth are your mother’s, as are your curves. She had men fighting duels over her hand before your father won her heart. Of course, I could look about for another duke, in honor of your mother, but I must point out that there is an alarming paucity of them in London these days.”

To Bea’s mind, her mother would have been happy with any man who willingly offered for her daughter’s hand—though not one whose proposal came about from a scandal born of bare toes, a salmon-paste dolphin, and a stolen kiss.