Despite Mother’s displeasure, the sideboard contained libations and a tray of cucumber sandwiches. Mother was too irritated with her daughter to allow a more extravagant repast in the formal dining room, but nor could she have gossips claim that respectable Mrs. York had failed in her duty as a hostess. While Mother disapproved of some of the company Philippa kept, a few of the members were Important Ladies, and Mother would never dream of offending them.

Stricter parents would not have indulged Philippa’s interests at all. Her passion for books and learning was horribly unfashionable. Mother undoubtedly regretted allowing her daughter a truly generous five seasons to make her match.

And now Philippa’s time was up.

“One hour,” Mother repeated. “You’ll not have a single additional moment of amusement until you attract—and accept—a suitor your father and I both deem satisfactory. He must be a prominent figure in the House of Lords, or at least eligible. Your father needs stronger allies. This is your duty, Philippa. No more fun until you accomplish it.”

Philippa’s parents rarely agreed on anything…except this.

“No fun allowed,” she murmured. “I remember.”

It was difficult to forget, with the constant reminders.

Ever since Philippa’s come-out, most conversations with her mother centered on which lords were the most marriageable, and how Philippa should best go about catching one of them.

To be fair, her parents very much did their part. Not only did they try to be respectable and unobjectionable in every way themselves, but they had also granted their daughter a dowry large enough to purchase a small kingdom.

The problem was not a lack of offers. Philippa’s father scarcely had time to prepare his parliamentary speeches with the endless river of fortune hunters eager to spend Philippa’s dowry.

The problem was a lack of titled suitors. Her parents would have her marry a block of wood, as long as it possessed a coronet. A title in the family would lift everyone’s social status and provide much-needed connections for her father’s political career. The rest of the details were immaterial.

The other problem…was Philippa.

She did not wish to marry a man interested only in her money. Worse, Philippa was dreadful at flirting and liable to scare off a boast-worthy match before he could offer. Bad enough that she was a bluestocking, which repelled fashionable gentlemen at first whiff. She also had no taste, according to Mother. More precisely, Philippa had no interest in starting a romance with any man she’d ever met.

Not that she was naïve enough to believe in a love match. This was business. Her family’s future depended on Philippa’s marital success.