“Afraid I was in a bit of a brown study. What were you saying?”
Catherine’s lips quirked upward. Alternating her gaze between Andrew and Miss Chilton-Grizedale, she reported in a teasing voice, “My brother has changed very little in the past decade, I see. His mind, always filled with thoughts of his studies, often wandered off during our conversations. I recall one time relating a fascinating story to him of a musicale I’d attended. After the fifth ‘That’s nice, Catherine’ he’d uttered, I said, ‘And then I jumped into the Thames and swam across to Vauxhall.’ He simply nodded. However, when I said, ‘The pyramids at Giza were built by Sir Christopher Wren,’ that comment quickly rewarded me with his attention-something you might both wish to remember the next time Philip’s mind wanders.”
“Thank you for the advice, Lady Bickley,” said Andrew. He turned to Philip. “Is that what you were contemplating just now, Philip? The beauty of the… pyramids?”
Philip shot Andrew a quelling look. Normally he enjoyed his friend’s irreverent sense of humor-but not now. Not when he felt so unsettled and undone. “No. I was merely… preoccupied.” Careful to avoid looking at Miss Chilton-Grizedale, he focused his attention on Catherine. “What do I think about what?”
“Holding the gathering here at your townhouse the evening after next, with me acting as hostess. Miss Chilton-Grizedale and I thought a dinner with dancing afterward would best suit our purposes.”
“Can you arrange something that quickly?”
“With the proper help and staff, a coronation could be arranged that quickly.” Sadness shadowed Catherine’s eyes. “And with father’s illness, time is of the essence.”
“To assist me in my search for a wife for you, it would help to know what sort of qualities you admire in a woman,” Miss Chilton-Grizedale said in that brisk, no-nonsense tone of hers.
Something that sounded suspiciously like a guffaw arose from Andrew. Philip shot his friend a frown, and when Catherine and Miss Chilton-Grizedale looked his way, Andrew started coughing. Waving his hand, Andrew reached for his brandy and gasped, “I’m fine. Really.” After taking a sip, Andrew grinned at Philip. “Yes, Philip. What sort of qualities do you admire in a woman?”
All eyes turned his way, and when Philip remained silent, Miss Chilton-Grizedale said, “I’m not saying I shall be able to meet all your criteria, Lord Greybourne, especially as time is short. However, it might prove helpful to know if there are any characteristics that you find particularly attractive or overly off-putting. In fact, if you wouldn’t object to loaning me the use of your desk and a piece of vellum, I’d like to jot down some notes.”
This was not a conversation he particularly wished to have, especially given the devilish gleam he recognized all too well in Andrew’s eyes. But since he couldn’t think of a way to refuse her request without reinforcing her belief that his manners were sorely lacking, he led the way to his desk. Extracting a piece of thick ivory vellum from the top drawer, he held out the maroon leather chair for her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, sitting down with fluid grace. Her bronze skirts brushed his breeches, and her delicious scent wafted into his head. Scones. Tonight she smelled like warm, freshly baked, buttered scones. Damn it all, he had a particular weakness for warm, freshly baked, buttered scones. He stepped quickly back from her.
“Philip harbors a fondness for willowy blondes,” Andrew said, rising to stand near the fireplace, “especially since he met so few during his travels. And if her features are those of a classic beauty, so much the better.” He made a Ming noise. “Too bad Lady Sarah ran off. Physically, she was exactly the sort he likes.”
“Classically beautiful blondes,” Miss Chilton-Grizedale repeated in a serious tone, making a note. “Excellent. What else, my lord?”
A scowl bunched Philip’s brows. Damn it all, as recently as two days ago he would have agreed with Andrew. But now…
“My brother enjoys music,” Catherine added, “therefore someone with a talent for the pianoforte, or a pleasant singing voice, would be preferable.” She turned toward him. “Don’t you agree, Philip?”
“Er, yes. Musical talent is nice.”
“Someone who has at least a passing interest in antiquarian studies would no doubt be helpful,” Catherine added. “For conversational purposes.”
“Indeed,” agreed Andrew, who was clearly enjoying this conversation far too much. “Being of a scientific and intellectual bent, Philip prefers ladies who are conversant in subjects other than fashion and the weather. However, she should most certainly be a practical woman who won’t expect romantic drivel. Philip isn’t the sort to make the grand romantic gesture.”
“Oh, I agree,” Catherine said, before Philip could reply. “Romance is simply not in Philip’s nature.” She smiled and wagged her finger at him. “Don’t look so stricken, Philip, dear. Most men are notoriously unromantic.”
“I am not stricken, nor am I unroman-”
Miss Chilton-Grizedale’s tsking cut off his words. She shot him a look of clear disapproval. “How vexing this is. Based on these comments, I’d made a perfect match for you, Lord Greybourne.”
“I did not intentionally curse myself, Miss Chilton-Grizedale.”
“But that does not make you any less cursed, now, does it, my lord?”
“How kind of you to point that out. Have you always had this compelling need to state the obvious?”
“I prefer to call it a reiteration of the pertinent facts-”
“Yes, I’m certain you do.”
“-and no, I only need to do so when certain people lose sight of the situation.”
“Ah. Certain people who are not showing a moment of brilliance, perhaps?”
She smiled sweetly. “I would not have presumed to imply as much-”
“Ha!”
“-but now that you mention it, yes.” Before he could reply, she turned to Catherine and asked, “Where were we? Oh, yes. The bride-to-be’s traits. What else?”
Catherine’s bemused gaze bounced between him and Miss Chilton-Grizedale, then she said, “She should, of course, be accomplished in handling the servants and know how to run the household.”
Miss Chilton-Grizedale, he noted, jotted down copious notes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth with concentration.
Catherine stroked her chin. “What else? Oh, yes. A love of dusty relics is an absolute must.”
“I fear no such woman exists,” Andrew chimed in. “A woman who does not abhor them would be enough to ask for.”
“All right,” Catherine agreed. “Philip, what else do you like?”
“I’m surprised you’ve bothered to ask. I like-”
“Animals,” Andrew said. “She must love large animals. He already has a puppy that, based on the size of its paws, promises to grow to the size of a pony.”
Catherine turned toward him. “A puppy? Did you bring him home from Egypt?”
“No. I found him on the way home from the docks. Abandoned.”
“Where is he now?”
“Resting in Bakari’s quarters. The beast had an injury which Bakari bandaged. He’s keeping him as still as possible for a few days to give its leg a chance to heal.”
Catherine gave him a fond smile. “You always did have a soft spot for abandoned creatures.”
“I’ve always felt a special kinship toward them,” Philip said quietly.
Miss Chilton-Grizedale’s hand moved swiftly across the vellum for several more seconds, then she looked up. “Anything else?”
“She should be an accomplished dancer,” Catherine said, which brought a guffaw from Andrew.