They both doubled over with mirth for a few moments.

“Mr. Newcombe is not a rake, I suppose?” Hannah asked.

“Simon?” Barbara was still laughing. “He is a clergyman, Hannah, and very worthy indeed. But he is not-he is definitely not a dull man. I absolutely reject your implication that all men must be either rakes or dullards.”

“I did not intend to imply any such thing,” Hannah said. “I am quite sure your vicar is a perfectly splendid specimen of romantic gentlemanhood.”

Barbara’s laugh had become almost a giggle.

“Oh,” she said, “I can just picture his face if I were to tell him you had said that, Hannah.”

“All I want of a lover,” Hannah said, “apart from the aforementioned qualities, of course-they are obligatory-is that he will have eyes for no one but me for as long as I choose to allow him to continue looking.”

“A lapdog, in other words,” her friend said.

“You would put remarkably strange words into my mouth, Babs,” Hannah said, getting to her feet to pull on the bell rope and have the tea tray removed. “I want-indeed, I demand-just the opposite. I will have a masterful, very masculine man. Someone I will find it a constant challenge to control.”

Barbara shook her head, still smiling.

“Handsome, attractive, besotted, devoted,” she said, counting the points off on her fingers. “Masterful, very masculine. Have I missed anything?”

“Skilled,” Hannah said.

“Experienced,” Barbara amended, flushing again. “Goodness, it ought to be quite easy to find a dozen such men, Hannah. Do you have anyone in mind?”

“I do,” Hannah said and waited while a maid took the tray away and closed the door behind her. “Though I do not know if he is in town this year. He usually is. It will be inconvenient if he is not, but I have a few others in mind should I need them. I should have no difficulty at all. Is it conceited of me to say that I turn male heads wherever I go?”