“I only regret that it came too soon. I—I would have wanted to—to court you first. To take you driving, with a chaperon.” “A chaperon?” Tessa laughed despite herself. He went on determinedly. “To tell you of my feelings first, before I showed them. To write poetry for you—” “You don’t even like poetry,” Tessa said, her voice catching on a half laugh of relief. “No. But you make me want to write it. Does that not count for anything?”
