A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 25 - Twenty Five

The following afternoon, the drawing room of Hamilton House had been transformed for tea time. The porcelain teacups, the cucumber sandwiches. And the steady stream of hopeful debutantes in pastel muslin were ready.

Rowan sat on the velvet sofa. He was wearing the blue coat, as ordered. He looked handsome, rich, and utterly miserable.

In the far corner of the room, standing by a potted fern like a gray armored guard, was Delaney Kingsley. She held her notebook. Her face was a mask of professional calmness, but Rowan could see her foot tapping a rapid, irritated rhythm against the floorboards.

"Miss Charlotte Basset," the butler announced.

The first candidate walked in. She was petite, with golden curls and a dress the color of a lemon tart. She giggled as she curtsied.

Rowan stood up and bowed. "Miss Basset. A pleasure."

"Oh, Your Grace!" Miss Basset squeaked. "It is such an honor! I love your house! It is so... big!"

Rowan forced a smile. "Yes. It is large. Do take a seat."

She sat down. Delaney had briefed him: Miss Basset is quiet. She likes needlepoint. Test her silence.

Rowan sat back. He picked up his tea. He waited.

Five seconds passed. Miss Basset fidgeted.

Ten seconds passed. Miss Basset smoothed her dress.

Fifteen seconds passed.

"I have a cat!" Miss Basset blurted out loudly. "His name is Fluffy! He likes milk! Do you like milk? Cows make milk! I saw a cow once!"

Rowan closed his eyes for a brief moment of pain. So much for the "Quiet Sausage Eater."

"Fascinating," Rowan said. "I am afraid, Miss Basset, that I am allergic to cats. And cows. And everything about this conversation."

Miss Basset’s mouth fell open. "Oh."

"Thank you for coming," Rowan said, standing up abruptly. "The footman will show you out."

As Miss Basset was escorted out, looking confused, Rowan glanced at the corner.

Delaney was glaring at him. She made a slash on the Miss Basset name.

Next.

"Lady Jane Moore," the butler announced.

Candidate number two was tall and striking. She wore dark blue and carried a book. Delaney’s notes said: Intelligent. Speaks three languages.

Rowan felt a spark of hope. "Lady Jane. Welcome."

"Your Grace," Lady Jane said. She didn’t curtsy deeply. She nodded. "I was just reading about the industrial revolution. Fascinating, isn’t it? The steam engine will change the fabric of our economy."

Rowan smiled. "Indeed. I was just discussing wool prices with my steward."

"Wool is dead," Lady Jane declared. She sat down and crossed her legs—very bold.

"Cotton is the future. If you aren’t investing in Manchester looms, you are throwing your money away."

Rowan blinked. "I... I see."

"And I saw your library," she continued, looking at him critically. "It is woefully understocked on political theory. Do you not read Rousseau?"

"My sister prefer fiction," Rowan admitted.

Lady Jane scoffed. "Fiction is for children. A man of your station should be concerned with the rights of man."

Rowan leaned forward. "Parlez-vous français?" he asked, testing the language requirement.

"Oui," she replied instantly. "Mais je préfère l’allemand. C’est plus logique." (Yes, but I prefer German. It is more logical.)

Rowan sighed. She was intelligent, yes. But she was terrifying. She didn’t want a partner; she wanted a debate opponent.

"Lady Jane," Rowan said politely. "I fear my library is too simple for a mind such as yours. I would hate to bore you with my sister’s preferences."

Lady Jane stood up. "I suspected as much. Good day, Your Grace."

She marched out.

Rowan looked at Delaney. She had her head in her hands. Lady Jane’s name was slashed.

"Miss Penelope Whitlock," the butler announced.

Candidate number three was sweet. She was shy.

"Do you speak French?" Rowan asked immediately.

"No, Your Grace," she whispered.

"Are you quiet in the mornings?"

"I... I sing," she admitted. "Loudly. To the birds."

Rowan winced. "I see." He looked at Delaney with a look that said " She doesn’t even have any of the qualities. What is she doing here?"

He looked back at Miss Penelope and smiled. " Do you like eggs for a healthy breakfast ?" He asked.

She looked terrified. "Oh, no, Your Grace. Eggs give me hives."

Rowan stood up. "Thank you. Next." 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

By the fifth candidate, Rowan’s "Duke Smile" was starting to twitch.

"Miss Elmira Pringle," the butler announced.

Miss Pringle walked in. She was lovely. She was quiet. She sat down and waited for him to speak.

Perfect, Rowan thought. The Quiet Sausage Eater.

"Miss Pringle," Rowan said gently. "Tell me, what do you think of... wit?"

Miss Pringle smiled. "Wheat? It makes bread, Your Grace."

Rowan paused. "No. Wit. Humor. Jokes."

"Oh!" She laughed nervously. "I don’t like jokes. They are mean. I like sermons."

Rowan looked at the corner of the room. Delaney was writing furiously in her notebook. She looked like she was stabbing the paper.

"Miss Pringle," Rowan said. "You are delightful. But I am a sinner. I fear I would corrupt you just by staring at your lips."

Miss Pringle gasped and fled.

The doors closed. The room was silent.

Rowan slumped back onto the sofa. He loosened his cravat. He felt exhausted.

"Well," Rowan said to the empty room. "That went well."

"Well?"

The voice came from the corner. It was low and dangerous.

Delaney stepped out from behind the fern. She walked toward him. She did not look happy. Her hazel eyes were flashing with frustration.

"You rejected every single one," Delaney said. She stopped in front of the tea table, looming over him.

"They were all wrong," Rowan defended. He picked up a cucumber sandwich and took a bite. "Miss Basset talked about cows. Lady Jane wanted to turn my estate into a factory. And Miss Pringle thought ’wit’ was a grain."

"They were perfectly lovely girls!" Delaney argued. "Miss Basset is sweet. You could have learned to like cats!"

"I am allergic!" Rowan said, spraying a crumb of bread. "Do you want a wife who kills me with dander?"

"And Lady Jane!" Delaney continued, waving her notebook. "She is brilliant! You said you wanted intelligence! You said you wanted a challenge!"

"I want a challenge, not a lecture!" Rowan snapped.

"You are being impossible," Delaney said as she threw her hands up.