said. âFirst of all, I severely dislike any man who drinks. Especially if he drinks to excess. Itâs vulgar.â
Alexandra kept her face completely still. Of course her sister disliked drinking. Lavinia hated all fun. âI see,â Alexandra replied simply.
âAnd he cannot be overbearing. I detest an overbearing sort.â
Takes one to know one.
Lavinia flipped her hands back over, indicating for Martha to proceed with the second coat. âGambling of any sort is completely out of the question. Itâs an absolute abomination.â
âOf course.â Alexandra nodded. That was not news to her; sheâd had her own unfortunate incident in which her sister had discovered her gamblingâor more precisely, encouraging others to gambleâand raised holy hell. Again, Lavinia was the opposite of fun.
âCursing and a bad temper are also entirely unacceptable,â Lavinia continued.
Ah yes, only one of them could curse and have a bad temper in Laviniaâs marriage. Alexandra had to smother her smile at that thought.
âI detest dancing,â Lavinia added thoughtfully. âI cannot abide a gentleman who is forever endeavoring to ask me to dance.â
Itâs one of my favorite things, Alexandra thought wistfully. âWhat, specifically, do you object to when it comes to dancing?â Alexandra couldnât help but ask.
Lavinia flared her nostrils and glared at her. âThere are much better things to do with oneâs time than dance.â
âSuch as?â
âSuch as anything!â Laviniaâs voice rose sharply, and Alexandra quickly decided to abandon that line of questioning.
âVery well, what else do you require in a gentleman?â Alexandra said.
Lavinia pressed her lips together. âI adore poetry. The man who wins my heart must write me not only poetry but ballads as well.â
âBallads?â Alexandra wrinkled her nose. The maid gave her mistress a questioning sideways glance.
âYes, love ballads. I adore them,â Lavinia said. âAnd he must bring me flowers every time he comes to see me. Scads and scads of flowers. Not those sad little offerings from the park, but large, lovely ones he has carted in from his conservatory in the country.â
Alexandra shook her head. Of course, his conservatory. Because any man worthy of Lavinia would be the proud owner of a conservatory filled with large, gorgeous flowers with which to woo her.
âAnd he must be a fine horseman,â Lavinia continued. âYou know how much I adore my dear Bonnie in the country.â
It was true. The only living thing her sister seemed to cherish was her horse. âIs there anything else?â
âAll the normal things, of course. He must be handsome, titled, honorable. He cannot live too far away. I shouldnât like to travel a great distance to visit Mother and Father. That would be terribly inconvenient.â
Mustnât inconvenience her.
âAnd he shouldnât be of such a strong mind that he wonât allow me to redecorate our country house as I see fit.â
Never think it.
âHe shouldnât be too terribly interested in politics. I shouldnât like to have to discuss such boring subjects at every dinner party.â
The horror.
âWhat about wit?â Alexandra offered.
Lavinia bared her teeth. âWit? Why would I want that? Wit is overrated.â
No, itâs not. âAnything else?â
âI prefer a man with an artistâs heart who can speak to me about horses and poetry with equal verve. Someone with soft hands who might play me a love ballad on a mandolin.â She sighed and stared dreamily off toward her pink wallpaper.
An artistâs heart? What did that mean? And a mandolin? Really? Alexandra and Martha exchanged another skeptical glance. Her sisterâs perfect groom didnât sound appealing to Alexandra in the least. Though, thankfully, he also
Learning to Kill: Stories