The Jane Austen Marriage Manual by Kim Izzo

every opportunity, even in airport VIP lounges.
    “There’s someone I want you to meet,” she exclaimed with excitement. “I met him on the flight from London. He’s English,” she added unnecessarily. “Perhaps you know him, what with your being a Scottish landowner and everything.”
    Before I could utter a single vowel of objection, she vanished. I considered abandoning the VIP lounge for the uncomfortable chairs at the gate when Orietta returned with the Englishman.
    “Lady Katharine, I’d like you to meet …” Orietta began with the polished grin of someone who thinks she is giving you a coveted gift.
    But introductions weren’t necessary, for I found myself standing face-to-face with Clive’s old school chum.
    “Griffith Saunderson.” Orietta breathed his name like he was a prince. “This is Lady Katharine,” she erupted gleefully.
    My mind raced back to that drunken slosh of a night when my worst problem was too much pinot grigio and a vow that I had made to Clive about his friend with the unusual name. What was it? I remembered how impossibly rude I’d been and vowed that the next time I saw him, and who thought there’d be a next time, I’d be polite, complimentary, and sweet.
    “Lady, is it?” Griff said slyly and with a smirk that screamed revenge for my rudeness. “I had no idea.”
    Skip polite, complimentary, and sweet, then.
    “It’s just Kate,” I corrected her, desperate to end the charade then and there.
    “Oops, my mistake,” Orietta chirped. “Griffith, this is Lady Kate.”
    “Please call me Griff,” he suggested gently.
    We stood in silence. The man hadn’t changed since the last time I’d seen him. Seriously, he looked as though he was wearing the same clothes, all with that slept-in look and messy hair. In other words, he was still sexy. I caught myself staring at him but got the feeling that he liked me staring at him, so I stared at the floor instead.But dear old Griff Saunderson, clearly amused by my predicament, refused to budge. I was afraid he’d out me as a fake or find some witty English way to socially skewer me. What did he know about me anyway? For all he knew I was a lady. Though why I was so afraid to come off as an imposter to a badly dressed Englishman, I’ll never know.
    “We’ve met,” I said politely.
    “I thought you must have!” Orietta said, clearly pleased with herself.
    “But I can’t remember where, it was so long ago,” I began.
    “And you’d had quite a bit to drink, if I recall,” he finished snootily.
    My face turned red.
    Satisfied he’d embarrassed me enough, he bowed, “Have a safe flight, Your
Ladyship
.”
    I heard him stifle a laugh as he turned and walked back to his lounge seat. Bloody Brits! Who did he think he was?
    “Come with me, Lady Kate,” Orietta said and pulled me along. “I want you to meet the gang we have going down for the polo. Are you free Sunday? I’d love you to be our guest at the IPC.”
    I hesitated at first. I had no idea what Orietta was talking about. Not that I wanted to appear ignorant, but I had to ask. “IPC?” I tossed off casually, making like I didn’t really care.
    Orietta giggled as though I had said something witty. “Forgive me, I should have told you. IPC is the International Polo Club, very exclusive. I hope you can join us.”
    “Of course it is,” I pretended. “I would love to come.”
    I smiled as warmly as I could—this was going to be easier than I thought. My title was making entry into Palm Beach society positively seamless. Still, I couldn’t help feeling uneasy about Griff. A fear swept over me that Orietta had also invited him to polo. He was obviously still angry with me, not that I blamed him entirely, but it gave him a motive to embarrass me publicly, as well. I had to find out.
    “How do you know Griff?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
    “Oh, I don’t know anything about him. I met him on the flight from London,” she said vaguely. “He’s