“Humph,” said her mother. “One needn’t tolerate one’s husband. With luck, you’ll rarely see him. It’s one’s marriage one must tolerate. A lofty title and a large library will serve just fine.”

Mother might be mercenary, but she wasn’t wrong. To Philippa’s future husband, a young bride and a large dowry in exchange for a few books would be an excellent transaction. They saw such matches made every week at Almack’s, when the season was in swing.

“I have an idea,” Mother announced.

“Heaven save me,” Philippa muttered under her breath.

“It involves that Baron Vanderbean,” Mother continued.

Philippa’s eyebrows rose. She was surprised a Wynchester would figure into her mother’s plans.

“It’s not ideal,” Mother said. “He’s foreign, and in possession of the lowest possible title.”

Philippa nodded. “True. If one discounts knights and baronets and military officers and—”

“He’s young,” Mother interrupted, “and a bit raffish. But…after failing to marry the Duke of Faircliffe last season as expected, your image is also tarnished.”

“Have the offers from fortune hunters dried up?” Philippa asked in surprise.

“Those will never dry up,” Mother said. “They also don’t count. Fortune hunters are not real people.”

“The Duke of Faircliffe was a fortune hunter,” Philippa reminded her.

“The Duke of Faircliffe is a duke,” Mother retorted, as though a dukedom cured everything.

Philippa supposed, in Polite Society, it did.

Even if the Balcovian baron hadn’t been “foreign” and a Wynchester, his delighted willingness to entertain Philippa’s awkward, extended equine metaphor had lost him favor with her mother. The baron also seemed to like Philippa’s oddness, which made him a little odd as well.

That trait was perhaps Philippa’s favorite thing about him.

“Therefore,” Mother announced, “you should welcome Baron Vanderbean’s flirtations.”

Philippa stared at her. “You want me to marry Baron Vanderbean?”

How curious. The notion did not fill her with the revulsion her mother’s schemes usually provoked. Although Philippa didn’t know Baron Vanderbean well enough to categorically state that she wanted him, their brief interaction was by far the highlight of Philippa’s five years on the marriage mart. If further acquaintance with the baron proved just as—

“Of course you cannot marry Baron Vanderbean,” Mother said. “You’re to use him as a stepping-stone and marry someone else.”

“Use him,” Philippa repeated. “To marry someone else.”

“Someone better,” Mother clarified, as though Philippa might not be following along with the plan. “A baron’s attention should catch the eye of a viscount. A viscount’s attention could catch the eye of an earl. An earl’s attention could catch the eye of a marquess. And a marquess’s attention could catch the eye of a duke!”

“Are there any unmarried dukes now that Faircliffe’s been taken?” Philippa asked.