Alarmed, Honoria spun back around to face her. “But he’s not coming.”

“No, of course not, but he is our neighbor. And as Cecily said the other day, this means that he will dance with her in London, and one must seize one’s opportunities where one can.”

“Yes, of course, but—”

“He does not bestow his favor on many young ladies,” Mrs. Royle said proudly. “You, I suppose, due to your prior connection, and maybe one or two others. It will make it easier for her to capture his attention. This way, Lady Honoria,” she said, motioning toward a row of flower arrangements on a nearby table. “And besides,” she added, “our property is like a little bite out of his. Surely, he’ll want it.”

Honoria cleared her throat, not at all certain how to respond.

“Not that we could give it all to him,” Mrs. Royle continued. “None of it is entailed, but I couldn’t possibly slight Georgie that way.”

“Georgie?”

“My eldest son.” She turned to Honoria with an assessing eye, then waved her hand through the air. “No, you’re too old for him. Pity.”

Honoria decided there could not possibly be an appropriate reply to that.

“We could add a few acres to Cecily’s dowry, though,” Mrs. Royle said. “It would be worth it, to have a countess in the family.”

“I’m not sure he’s looking for a wife just yet,” Honoria ventured.

“Nonsense. Every unmarried man is looking for a wife. They just don’t always know it.”

Honoria managed a small smile. “I shall be sure to remember that.”

Mrs. Royle turned and gave Honoria a close look. “You should,” she finally said, apparently having decided that Honoria was not mocking her. “Ah, here we are. What do you think of these flower arrangements? Are they a bit too heavy on the crocuses?”

“I think they’re beautiful,” Honoria said, admiring the lavender ones in particular. “Besides, it is still so early in the spring. Crocuses are what is in bloom.”

Mrs. Royle let out a heavy sigh. “I suppose. But I find them rather common myself.”

Honoria smiled dreamily and trailed her fingers across the petals. Something about the crocuses made her feel utterly content. “I prefer to think of them as pastoral.”

Mrs. Royle cocked her head to the side, considered Honoria’s comment, and then must have decided it required no response, because she straightened and said, “I think I will ask Cook to make biscuits.”

“Would it be acceptable if I remained here?” Honoria asked quickly. “I rather enjoy arranging flowers.”

Mrs. Royle looked at the flowers, which were already expertly arranged, and then back at Honoria.

“Just to fluff them out,” Honoria explained.

Mrs. Royle waved her hand through the air. “If you wish. But don’t forget to change before the gentlemen return. Nothing blue, though. I want Cecily to stand out.”

“I don’t believe I even brought a blue dress,” Honoria said diplomatically.

“Well, that will make it easy,” Mrs. Royle said briskly. “Have fun . . . er . . . fluffing.”