“Is it Surrey?” Valentine wondered. Bonny’s gaze flicked his way impatiently. “Surrey?” “Making you like this.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Valentine was feeling aggrieved again. Aggrieved and increasingly exhausted, in a way that was only partially connected to a day spent running around pointlessly in a curricle. “Men who want to marry men, and women who don’t want to marry dukes, and girls who like to dress as boys.” “Yes,” said Bonny decidedly. “It’s Surrey. It’s the mushrooms here. They make us true to who we are.” “M-mushrooms?” “I’m joking, flower. This is just . . .
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