Snowe pressed his hands together in a soundless clap. “Spoken like a true disciple! Miss Goodrich, I am delighted to have met you. Mr. Fitzwater, might I have a word with you about my mission work? Miss Goodrich, you will not mind if we excuse ourselves? I fear that our conversation will be entirely too boring for your tastes.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Snowe. I find discussions of foreign lands most intriguing.” China! The Orient! Oh, to see all the foreign sites and peoples of such places as my imagination could only invent from my reading. Surely I could forbear Phineas Snowe long enough to hear his firsthand tales.

Uncle Toby pressed my hand. “The Ransoms are in want of your company to keep the party amiable.” He smiled. “You must not waste what should be a convivial time.”

“Of course, Uncle,” I said, knowing that I was being dismissed. Perhaps it was for the best. I had yet to make note of any gown save Catherine’s, and Flora would want a full accounting when I returned home. And there was still the eligible man who was supposed to be in attendance. “You will want this back, Mr. Snowe,” I said, handing him the Chinese translation of Luke.

He bowed, his thick spectacles sliding down his nose. He pushed them back as quickly as he rose, his smile peculiarly unctuous. “It would honor me were you to keep it.”

“Thank you,” I said, curtsying as he and Uncle Toby headed for a quiet corner. I could hear Snowe’s voice, cheerful and animated now, and wondered again at the strange man.

As for other strange men, it was far past time to search for the eligible one who was due to be in attendance tonight. I oddly sensed that my future depended upon him.

Finding myself unengaged, I tried to watch the doorway to see the mystery man arrive. He should be handsome, certainly, but even if he were not, a pleasing disposition and intelligent demeanor would suffice. Despite her faults, Catherine knew men, and she would match me with no one less than I deserved.