“So he should send her roses and confections?”

“As your friend, Mr. Stanton, I must point out that that is a sadly typical male assumption. Perhaps Lady Ophelia prefers pork chops to confections. And how do you know her favorite flower is a rose?”

“As your friend, Lady Catherine, I must point out that it would be very odd for a suitor to come calling with a gift box filled with pork chops. And don’t all women love roses?”

“I couldn’t say. I like them. However, they aren’t my favorite.”

“And what is?”

“Dicentra spectabilis.”

“I fear Latin is not my strong suit.”

“You see?”

“Actually, no-”

“That’s but yet another problem with Lord Nordnick’s unoriginal methods. He should recite something romantic to her in another language. But I digress. Dicentra spectabilis means ‘bleeding heart.’ ”

He pulled his gaze from the couple and turned his head to stare at her. “Something called bleeding heart is your favorite flower? That hardly rings of romance.”

“Nevertheless, it is my favorite, and that’s what makes it romantic. I happen to know that Lady Ophelia is especially fond of tulips. But do you suppose Lord Nordnick will bother to discover that? I think not. Based on his fetching of numerous glasses of unwanted punch, I’m certain he’ll send Lady Ophelia roses because that’s what he thinks she should like. And because of that, he is doomed to failure.”

“All because he fetched punch and would send the wrong flowers?” Andrew turned back to the couple, and a wave of pity for Lord Nordnick engulfed him. Poor bastard. He made a mental note to pass along the tulip information to the hapless fellow. In these perilous courting endeavors, men needed to stick together.

“Perhaps such clumsy attempts would have gained a lady’s favor in the past, but no longer. Today’s Modern Woman prefers a gentleman who takes into consideration her preferences, as opposed to a gentleman who arrogantly believes he knows what is best for her.”