Lady Clarissa Templeton shrank from the booming voice over her head. “My lord, I implore you—” “Let me clarify, Miss Templeton. I have no wish for you as a wife. I do, however, wish you to make a list of suitable candidates for me, as you did so successfully for your brother. I’m certain your effort had little to do with his wife’s ultimate digressions.” She gasped. Not only was he insulting, but obnoxiously arrogant. “But my lord, what on earth makes you think that I could—” He held up a hand to interrupt her. “She must be accomplished, charming, well-mannered, of noble birth of course—” “Of course,” Clarissa murmured. This is ridiculous, she thought, but her quill scratched along the paper as she noted the requirements. “Furthermore, she should complement my looks.” Clarissa frowned. Whatever did he mean? “Her hair, eyes, and figure should look well set against mine own.
