She laughed, loud and true. “I am almost hoping for rain, Sir Richard, and I—”

But she was cut off by the approach of a sandy-haired gentleman. Mr. Reginald Balfour. She’d met him before; his sister was good friends with one of hers. But he’d never done more than greet her politely.

“Miss Smythe-Smith,” he said, bowing to her curtsy. “You look exceptionally fine this evening.”

Iris’s hand was still on Sir Richard’s arm, and she could feel him tensing as he tried not to laugh.

“Are you engaged for the next dance?” Mr. Balfour asked.

“I am not,” she said.

“Then may I lead you out?”

She glanced over at Sir Richard. He winked.

NINETY MINUTES LATER, Richard stood near the wall, watching Iris as she danced with yet another gentleman he did not recognize. For all her talk about never dancing every dance, she appeared to be well on her way to that goal tonight. She seemed honestly surprised by the attention. Whether she was enjoying herself, he was not certain. He supposed that even if she weren’t, she would view the evening as an interesting experience, one worthy of her particular brand of observation.

Not for the first time, it occurred to him that Iris Smythe-Smith was highly intelligent. It was one of the reasons he’d chosen her. She was a rational creature. She would understand.

No one seemed to notice him in the shadows, so he took advantage of the moment by mentally ticking through his list. He’d drawn one up when he’d found himself racing back to London a few days earlier. Well, not drawn. He wasn’t so foolish as to write such a thing down. But he’d had ample time on the journey to reflect upon what he needed in a wife.

She could not be spoiled. Or the sort who liked to draw attention to herself.

She could not be stupid. He had good reason to marry quickly, but whomever he chose, he was going to have to live with the lady for the rest of his life.

It would be nice if she was pretty, but it was not imperative.

She ought not be from Yorkshire. All things considered, it would be much easier if she was a stranger to the neighborhood.

She probably could not be rich. He needed someone for whom he might be considered an advantageous match. His wife would never need him as much as he needed her, but it would be easier—at least at the beginning—if she did not realize this.

And above all, she must understand what it meant to value one’s family. That was the only way this was going to work. She had to understand why he was doing this.