“Will you let me make you popular?”
She stared at him a moment as she repeated his question three times in her head. And when that was done, she reversed her thoughts all the way back to the moment when they’d first met, re-evaluating everything he’d said.
“Lady Gwen?”
“Are you flirting? Is this some Roman form of seduction—”
“What?” He looked and sounded appalled. “Of course not! I am in earnest. I think you are the perfect woman to promote my flower.”
She stared at him, doing her best to read his expression. He did not seem to be teasing her.
“You are in earnest?” she asked.
“Most certainly.”
She saw no lie in him, but she could not credit his words. If this was not a bad attempt at seduction, then his wits were lacking. There was no other explanation.
“Oh dear,” she finally said. “I’m afraid you have failed.”
“What?”
“An intelligence test, my lord. Do try to do better or I shall think this venture is not at all worth my time.”
He rocked back on his heels, but he didn’t seem offended so much as amused. “I see. And how have I failed?”
“Your chosen woman would need style, grace, and a hidden beauty that can be exploited to best effect.”
He nodded, his expression excruciatingly bland. “Yes, I know.”
Clearly, he didn’t know. She began walking again. They were very close to her front steps and she sped up rather than further this incredibly awkward conversation. “She will need to be extraordinarily special because those are the qualities which you want associated with your daffodils.”
“I completely agree.” His tone was matter-of-fact, but when she glanced sideways at him, she saw his lips curve in a slow smile.
The slowness of the motion confused her, especially when coupled with such a direct gaze. There was meaning here that she did not fully understand, and yet she liked it. She enjoyed the way he looked at her.
“Lady Gwen?”
“I do not qualify,” she stated firmly as she wrenched her mind back to the topic at hand. “I’ve spent the last three weeks of my life determining my assets in the Marriage Mart.”
“You have?”
She blew out a breath. “They have been the most dismally uncomfortable three weeks of my life. Having decided I wanted children, I resolved to get married. Having resolved for a husband, I wrote down how I might be appealing on the Marriage Mart.”
His brows rose but rather than confess the rest while facing him, she began walking and each step brought yet another one of her so-called attributes to light. “My looks are average at best. Men hate that. I am forthright in speech. Men and women alike hate that. What is special about me is my intelligence, and everyone hates that including—at times—myself.”
“You hate your intelligence?”
“Believe me, my life would go so much more smoothly if I didn’t realize how stupid people are.” She glanced at him, batted her eyes, and spoke in a sing-song quality. “Oh my, sir, you quite astound me with your brilliant deduction that the earth is round, the sun heats the land, and we would all starve if it was always night!”
Laughter burst from him, filling the street with the warm sound. “Surely no one ever—”
“Surely they did. Or rather he did. My third and final suitor.” She sighed as she began walking again. “I believe he offered for my hand because he was too stupid to realize I thought him an idiot.”
He snapped his fingers. “I remember now. You’re talking about Lord McCray and his fascination with astronomy. I cannot believe you entertained his suit.”
“I didn’t. Mama did.” She mimicked her mother’s most strident tones. “He has a title, adequate wealth, and a fascination with scholarly things. You suit one another perfectly!” Gwen rolled her eyes. “She didn’t understand that he isn’t really scholarly. He’s in love with reciting obscure facts while silly women clap.”
“Well, thank God you saw through him,” he drawled.