“People will talk.” “Don’t they always?” “We’re not even engaged,” I said. He cocked his head. “Would you like to be?” My arm went slack against his chest in surprise. “What?” His grin widened. “I came back to London with no other intention than to ask for your hand. We can make it a long engagement, so you have time to get accustomed to the idea. Will you have me, my darling?” “You cannot mean it,” I said. “I am so very—” He cast his face heavenward. “Do not, I beg of you, give me another soliloquy on your faults.” “But, Charles?” He ran a hand through my hair. “Yes, my heart?” “Why?”
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