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"Are you likening the beauteous Mrs. Boyle to a fish? Not a very romantic simile, dear chap. Especially when you're a bit of a gudgeon yourself. She wasn't exactly bowled over by your charms," Lord Jerome said, placing an ironic emphasis on the word "charms" as he looked over Pryce in a way that drew attention to all of his sartorial and anatomical deficiencies, and which would have caused a more sensitive man to retire from polite society for a week at least. 

Mr. Pryce, however, was unfazed by his dinner companion's supercilious behavior, though it did cause him to notice he'd somehow spilled a bit of gravy on his waistcoat. He rubbed ineffectually at it as he considered why his courting had proven unsuccessful thus far. "Tell you what; I think she's whiddled our scrap." 

Lord Jerome wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Must you speak as if you're a denizen of a London rookery? But I concede your point. We may have inadvertently shown our hand."

"'Xactly! Maybe you should cast your peepers over some of the C's." 

Godfrey, who was hanging on their every word as surreptitiously as possible and had found this repeated mention of the alphabet very confusing indeed, noticed at this point that Mr. Pryce had pulled a slim booklet out of his waistcoat pocket and was perusing it, before waving it triumphantly in front of Lord Jerome's face. "Here you are: There's a Miss Cavendish with thirty thousand and she lives more convenient to town. Never been married, either, unlike this ace of spades," Pryce said, ignoring Lord Jerome's earlier complaint and using a slang term for a widow. 

"But I've rather taken a fancy to Mrs. Boyle. Especially now that I've seen her in the, ahem, flesh, so to speak. Why don't you make a call on Miss Cavendish?" 

The two men proceeded to argue for some time over who should relinquish the field, and Godfrey very generously refilled their glasses as they did so. Much later, he informed the inebriated gentlemen that their hostess had retired for the evening and was sorry she hadn't been able to bid them a good night. Godfrey then saw them both out, putting a helpful arm around Mr. Pryce to steer him toward the door and pocketing the booklet as he did so. 

A few minutes later, he handed it to Diana, who had completely changed her mind about terminating her butler's employment and was now considering increasing his salary. She had gone upstairs with Mildred earlier but had returned belowstairs once the men left as she assumed Godfrey would have some information for her. However, she had never expected this. 

Diana took the booklet from him, reading aloud as she did so: "'The Rich Ladies Registry or the Batchelor's Directory.'" She paused for a moment, looking up at Godfrey in shock and dismay, before continuing to read: "'Containing an alphabetical list of the Widows and Spinsters of Great Britain with an account of their places of abode and reputed fortunes.'"

"You might want to turn over to the 'Widows' section, under the letter B, ma'am," Godfrey suggested, and Diana obediently flipped a few pages forward, only to see her name and direction very clearly printed in black and white. A Madam Bechford of Bond Street was listed ahead of Diana, but she had a measly twenty thousand, whereas Madam Boyle of Twickenham was reputed to have a fortune of at least thirty thousand pounds with a few thousand "in the stocks." Diana had no idea if this figure was accurate or not. Her man of affairs had apprised her of her financial standing upon Mr. Boyle's death and she was content to know that her quarterly allowance, which she'd found more than adequate, was to continue, and that if she had need of any more funds, she could apply to him at any time. She had intended to take a more active role in the supervision of the accounts, as she realized ignorance in such matters could lead to disaster, but she also knew appearing too interested in her late husband's wealth would provoke spiteful comments from her sister-in-law, and so she'd resolved to wait a little longer before requesting to examine the situation for herself. 

However, it looked as if whoever compiled this directory had done extensive research, so the amount was most likely correct. There were dozens of names, addresses, and figures; the listings for noble widows even stating what their rank and title was, and Diana was dumbfounded at the time and labor the author must have put into compiling such a list. Although it did not appear that alphabetizing was his forte. "He's listed a Madam Baker after me. She should come before," Diana complained, before realizing this was the least of her concerns. "I cannot believe someone would be so encroaching, so intrusive, so... despicable! Exposing all the private details of these ladies, without so much as a by-your-leave! Why, it should be against the law to do such a thing! Who is responsible for this?" 

That question Godfrey could not answer, so turning back to the title page she read aloud: "'By a Younger Son.' That certainly is specific," she told Godfrey sarcastically. She stared at the front of the booklet in frustration, before flipping another page and realizing there was a dedication addressed "'To all Widowers and Batchelors.'" She resolved to read the dedication carefully when she was alone, but for the moment she merely skipped to the end, and found that the author had signed it: "Your Most Obedient Unknown, M. D—n." 

Diana couldn't remember the last time she'd been so angry. Perhaps she never had; she couldn't recall ever having this much provocation. "So, he has no problem publishing all the ladies' names but he's too shy to publish his own. A little hypocritical of our mysterious Mr. D, wouldn't you say, Godfrey?"