“Margaret!” Louise’s mouth quivered. “I cannot imagine the duchess ever saying anything so vulgar.”

“Well, no, but I swear they have actually drawn up a list of my attributes. It is, I’ll wager, a very short list, mind you, but I am equally certain that they have a corresponding list of the qualities they require any potential husband to possess. Pedigree, social standing, estates, connections, income, politics.” Margaret wrinkled her nose. “All the important things. It wouldn’t matter to them if my future husband was ninety years old.”

“Oh no, ninety is far too old to father children. I’d say they would have set the age limit at sixty. Seventy at a push.”

“Stop! There is no way on this earth I could kiss a seventy-year-old man.”

“You’d have to do more than kiss him.”

“Eugh!” Margaret covered her ears.

“You brought the subject up, and one must face facts. As a Montagu Douglas Scott, it is expected of you.”

“But no-one seems to care that underneath I’m an actual person.”

“No, but when did they ever think of either of us in that way? It’s not as if it’s a surprise that you must marry, is it? And there are worse fates, you know. If I don’t marry, I will dwindle into eternal spinsterhood as Mama’s scribe, which I am determined not to do.”

“Oh no, that would be a terrible waste, for you have such an artistic talent.” Margaret’s face fell. “The sad fact is, though, that I have no talents to speak of.”

“Then I fear you have no choice but to resign yourself to the path mapped out for you.”

“I didn’t expect you to be so unsympathetic.”

“I’m being realistic.”

“I suppose you’re right. Let us have done with this depressing subject.”

“Yes, let’s. You are being formally presented at court in April, aren’t you? I expect I’ll be there in attendance with the queen as usual. Shall I wink at you as you make your curtsy?”

“Do not! I’ll be bound to giggle if you do, and then I’ll probably trip on my train,” Margaret said, torn between laughter and horror.

“Now I feel obliged to wink, just to see if you have paid attention to a single thing I’ve told you today. Who has the duchess employed to take your carte-de-visite photograph? If she has not yet made the arrangements, I can recommend Mr. Jabez Hughes. Here, take a look at this example he produced for my friend Sybil. Isn’t it lovely?”

Margaret studied the little card, which showed a stern-looking young woman leaning on a pillar. “Why do they always pose in profile?”