Quick, Rosaline, be charming. “What do you mean? I woke up this morning and I thought, You know what I want? An evening at a train station with a mildly suggestive name.” “Ah, then you should have gone to Much-Tupping-in-the-Weir.” He offered an easy smile, brackets forming at the corners of his generous mouth. “It’s even milder.” “I hear Lower Bumgrope is nice this time of year.” “Which is ironic, because Upper Bumgrope is an absolute dump.”
