Reading her expression, Blandford smiled morosely. “Ah, Hannah. How can I explain adequately? The world is moving altogether too fast for men like me. Too many new ways of doing things. Before I can adjust to the way something changes, it changes yet again. They say before long the railway will cover every green acre of England. The masses will all have soap and tinned food and ready-made clothing, and the distance between us and them will grow quite narrow.”

Hannah listened intently, aware that she, with her lack of fortune and undistinguished birth, straddled the line between Blandford’s own class and “the masses.”

“Is that a bad thing, Uncle?”

“Not entirely,” Blandford said after a long hesitation. “Though I do regret that blood and gentility are coming to mean so little. The future is upon us, and it belongs to climbers like the Bowmans. And to men like Lord Westcliff, who are willing to sacrifice what they must to keep pace with it.”

The earl of Westcliff was Raphael Bowman’s brother-in-law. He had arguably the most distinguished lineage in England, with blood more blue than the Queen’s. And yet he was known as a progressive, both politically and financially. Among his many investments, Westcliff had garnered a fortune from the development of the locomotive industry, and he was said to take a keen interest in mercantile matters. All this while most of the peerage was still content to garner its profits from the centuries-old tradition of maintaining tenants on its private lands.

“Then you desire the connection to Lord Westcliff, as well as the Bowmans,” Hannah said.

“Of course. It will put my daughter in a unique position, marrying a wealthy American and having a brother-in-law such as Westcliff. As the wife of a Bowman, she will be seated at the lower end of the table…but it will be Westcliff’s table, and that is no small consideration.”

“I see,” she said pensively.

“But you don’t agree?”

No. Hannah was far from persuaded that her beloved Natalie should have to make do with an ill-mannered boor as a husband, merely to have Lord Westcliff as a brother-in-law. However, she was certainly not going to impugn Lord Blandford’s judgment. At least not aloud.

“I defer to your wisdom, Uncle. However, I do hope that the advantagesor disadvantagesof this match will reveal themselves quickly.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “What a diplomat you are. You have a shrewd mind, my dear. Probably more than a young woman has need of. Better to be pretty and empty-headed like my daughter, than plain and clever.”

Hannah did not take offense, although she could have argued both points. For one thing, her cousin Natalie was anything but empty-headed. However, Natalie knew better than to flaunt her intelligence, as that was not a quality that attracted suitors.

And Hannah did not consider herself plain. She was brown-haired and green-eyed, and she had a nice smile and a decent figure. If Hannah had the benefit of lovely clothes and adornments, she thought she might be considered very appealing. It was all in the eye of the beholder.

“Go to tea at Marsden Terrace,” Lord Blandford told her, smiling. “Sow the seeds of romance. A match must be made. And as the Bard so aptly put it, ‘The world must be peopled.’ ” He glanced at her significantly. “After we manage to marry off Natalie, you will no doubt find your own suitor. I have my suspicions about you and Mr. Clark, you see.”

Hannah felt color rising in her face. For the past year she had undertaken some minor secretarial duties for Samuel Clark, a close friend and distant relation of Lord Blandford’s. And Hannah entertained some private hopes regarding the attractive bachelor, who was fair haired and slim and not much older than she. But perhaps her hopes were not as private as she had thought. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Uncle.”

“I’m sure you do,” he said, and chuckled. “All in good time, my dear. First let us secure a satisfactory future for Natalie. And then it will be your turn.”

Hannah smiled at him, keeping her thoughts private. But inwardly she knew that her definition of a “satisfactory future” for Natalie was not quite the same as his. Natalie deserved a man who would be a loving, responsible, trustworthy husband.

And if Rafe Bowman were that man, he would have to prove it.

CHAPTER 2

At the risk of sounding arrogant,” Rafe said, “I don’t think I need advice about how to court a woman.”

Rafe had arrived in London the day before. Today, while Westcliff was off visiting the locomotive works in which he had a share, Rafe gathered he was supposed to have tea with Lillian and her friends.

Rafe would have preferred to tour the locomotive works. He was a manufacturer’s son, and the lure of new machines and gadgetry held an unending fascination for him. On the other hand, Lillian had asked him to stay, and he had never been able to refuse her anything. He adored his sisters, who in his opinion were the best things his parents had ever accomplished.

“Miss Appleton is not going to give you advice,” Lillian retorted, ruffling his hair fondly. “We’ve invited her to tea so that she can tell us more about Lady Natalie. I should think you’d like to find out as much as you can about your future bride.”

“That’s still in question,” Rafe reminded her wryly. “Even if I want to marry her, it’s still left to Lady Natalie to consider whether she’ll have me.”

“Which is why you’re going to be so charming that Miss Appleton will run back home to deliver a glowing report about you to Lady Natalie.” Lillian paused and gave him a mock-threatening glance. “Aren’t you?”