Page 25 of The Courtship Dance

She gazed at him for another long moment, then gave a little nod. “All right, then. I will help you.”

“Excellent.”

A barouche was approaching from the opposite direction, and when it pulled close, they could see that the open carriage held Lady Whittington and her bosom friend Mrs. Wychfield. Since the Whittington barouche stopped beside them, Rochford could not pass with only a polite nod, but had to stop and exchange a greeting. Naturally, they must then spend a few minutes commenting on Lady Whittington’s ball, how splendid it had been and how much everyone had enjoyed it, followed by polite inquiries as to the other members of everyone’s families.

Francesca could feel the women’s eyes fixed on her speculatively, and she knew that soon the news that she had been riding through the park in the duke’s phaeton would be circulating throughout the ton. Even though everyone knew that they were well-acquainted, it did not take more than a change in the routine, such as this, to set the gossips’ tongues wagging.

Finally they were able to take their leave, and the duke set his team in motion, taking up their conversation again. “Tell me, how many candidates have you found for me?”

“What? Oh. Well, I had narrowed it down to three young women.”

“As few as that?” He cast her an amused glance. “Am I so unpopular?”

Francesca rolled her eyes. “You know it is exactly the opposite. There are scores of women who would love to be chosen as your fiancée. But I had to be rather choosey.”

“And what were your criteria, if I may ask?”

“Naturally, they must be pleasing in face and form.”

“I am fortunate that you took that into account.”

Francesca cast him a speaking glance and continued. “They must come from excellent families, though I did not think that wealth would be a matter of concern for you.”

He nodded. “You are correct, as always.”

“I also thought that it would be good if they were intelligent enough to converse with you and your friends, although I do not imagine that you would expect them to be as learned as your scholarly circle. They should also have the social skills necessary to be a hostess at the sorts of dinners and parties that a duchess must give. They have to be able to converse with important guests. And they must have the knowledge and ability to oversee a large staff of servants—indeed, the staffs of several houses. Then there are the other duties that are expected of a duchess, such as dealing with your tenants’ families and the local gentry at your various estates. And, of course, they must be pleasing to you personally.”

“I had wondered if that entered into your equations,” he murmured.

“Really, Rochford, don’t be absurd. That is the most important thing. She must not be vain and self-centered. She must not be unkind or flighty or frequently sick.”

The duke chuckled. “I am beginning to understand why you came up with so few prospects.”

Francesca laughed with him. “I know that your standards are high.”

“Yes, they always have been,” he agreed.

The implication of his words hit her—he was implying, was he not, that she had met his high standards—and she cast a quick glance up at him. She found his gaze on hers, and she blushed, feeling foolishly pleased and a little flustered.

She cleared her throat and looked away, suddenly unsure what else to say.

“Your first pick, obviously, was Althea Robart,” he said, breaking the awkwardness of the moment. “One has to wonder why.”

“She is quite attractive,” Francesca pointed out, defending her selection. “Also, her father is the Earl of Bridcombe, and her sister is married to Lord Howard. Her family is quite good, and she doubtless has an understanding of the tasks she would have to perform as the Duchess of Rochford.”

“Rather arrogant, though,” he commented, casting her a droll look.

“I assumed that would suit a duchess well enough,” Francesca retorted.

“Mmm, but perhaps it would not suit the duke.”

Francesca could not keep her lips from curling up into a smile. “All right. I will admit that Lady Althea was a poor choice.”

“Yes. I suggest that we leave her out of any future considerations. Or perhaps hold her in reserve, if I should become desperate.” He paused for a moment, then added, “No, I fear not even then. I do not think that even my sense of duty to my heirs could compel me to endure a lifetime of Lady Althea.”

“Consider Lady Althea crossed off the list. What about Damaris Burke? She is intelligent and competent. Her mother is dead, so Lady Damaris has been acting as Lord Burke’s hostess for the past two years. As he is in government, she is accustomed to handling important people and putting on important parties.”

“Hmm. I have met Lady Damaris.”