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what you are thinking?” he asked, one eyebrow perched archly.
    “ Tis exactly what I would be thinking if any other had said such a thing,” she said tentatively. “But now I do not denounce you and bid you leave because I believe you, particularly you, are making a sincere--albeit curious--proposal.”
    “Quite sincere. But why do you call it curious?”
    She spread her hands wide, the weed bucket swinging, as she cried in embarrassment, “Well, look at me! Why should you care what becomes of such a one as myself? I could understand if I were a great beauty--”
    He cut her off abruptly, “While physical beauty is a pleasing thing, it is also true, Lady Mary, that ‘beauty is as beauty does’, so I’ll have none of that nonsense. I see your worth. You wish to marry. I wish to be your friend. I find I wish it very greatly. Friendship is not dependent on outer beauty, as I can well tell you.” For a moment his voice had grown embittered, but then he seemed to mentally shake himself, and went on, “Friends help friends, and if I happen to introduce you to the lucky man who finally wins you, then he will be perhaps a little less likely to forbid my presence in your home. You see, once again I am only serving myself.”
    He turned a little away from her, idly kicking at wet pieces of grass that had been missed by the scythe and left too long. He continued, “I have pledged to ‘get thee wed’ and yet I have no notion of what manner of fellow you are looking for.”
    Mary came to a halt, causing him to stop as well. She dragged a hand across her cheek, wet in the misty rain, and gave a large sigh, her face reflecting the turmoil of the unnamed and impossible emotions she felt within. “I find such a conversation awkward at best, but since I believe what you say, and I find I desire your matrimonial assistance--since my own efforts have proved most pathetic--I do not doubt it is worth our time to hold such a conversation.”
    His head twisted inquiringly on his graceful neck. “Do you not know by now that all our conversations are meant to be awkward?”
    The abused expression fell from her face, replaced by a smile she hoped he did not see was rather bittersweet, while the rain ran from the top of her bonnet to splash off her shoulders.
    “My dear girl, may I offer you my coat?” he inquired at once, for she wore none.
    “No, no, I am only wet, not cold,” she assured him. She sighed again, and resumed walking. This time he kept pace with her as she led them toward the tool room in the stables. So, he had asked to assist her out of friendship, and the proof thereof was to have her describe her ‘desired mate.’ Well then, he should have what he asked for; she plunged in at once, before her mixed up feelings could choke back her ability to speak.
    “What sort of fellow, you ask? Hmmm. Well, I’m sure I couldn’t say exactly, but I do rather picture a quiet fellow, with a propensity toward reading, but he must be able to dance, at least a little.” She smiled more widely up at him, giving in to the humor that must go with this outlandish discourse. “He need not be taller than I, but I would prefer he not be too round. I should like him to have his own teeth, but hair is not essential.”
    “Ah, you describe a paragon.”
    “He must not be a gambler, and must not smoke a pipe. Nasty things, pipes. Oh, and Mrs. Pennett and I decided he should not be too old, as the main point is…is…” Her humor had led her too far, so now words failed her, and she blushed scarlet.
    “Is what, Lady Mary, my love?” purred John.
    “Well, I think you must know a lady of my advanced years is hopeful of offspring, and soon,” she answered, hiding within primness, choosing just that moment to fling open the tool room door and disappear inside.
    He waited patiently without, his hands clasped behind his back, his well-shaped legs spread in a casual pose until finally she returned to his side.
    “Would you come into the