“I am going to kill you," he hissed.She gulped. "Don't you want to lecture me first?"He stared at her with a heavy dose of stupefaction."I take that back," he said with precisely clippedwords. "First I am going to strangle you, and then I am going to kill you.""Here?" she asked doubtfully, looking around. "Won't my dead body look suspicious in the morning?”

“Let me try,” he said, and he took the ends and positionedhimself in front of her mirror.She watched him for about two seconds before declaring,“You’re going to have to go home.”His eyes did not leave the reflection of his neckcloth in themirror. “I haven’t even got past the first knot.”“And you’re not going to.”He gave her a supercilious look, brow quirked and all.“You’re never going to get it right,” she pronounced. “I mustsay, between this and your boots, I am revising my opinion on theimpracticalities of couture, male versus female.”“Really?”Her gaze dropped to his boots, polished to a perfect shine. “Noone has ever had to take a knife to my footwear.”“I wear nothing that buttons up the back,” he countered.“True, but I may choose a dress that buttons in the front,whereas you cannot go out and about without a neckcloth.”

“I am asking you to marry me because I love you,” he said, “because I cannot imagine living my life without you. I want to see your face in the morning, and then at night, and a hundred times in between. I want to grow old with you, I want to laugh with you, and I want to sigh to my friends about how managing you are, all the while secretly knowing I am the luckiest man in town.”“What?” she demanded.He shrugged. “A man’s got to keep up appearances. I’ll be universally detested if everyone realizes how perfect you are.”

“Michael, I am most pleased to see you up and about and looking so fine and healthy.”He inclined his head, thanking her for the compliment.She dabbed the corners of her mouth daintily with her napkin. “But now you must attend to your responsibilities as the earl.”He groaned.“Don‟t be so petulant,” Janet said. “No one is going to hang you up by your thumbs. All I was going to say is that you must go to the tailor and make sure you have proper evening clothes.”“Are you certain I can‟t donate my thumbs instead?”

“Ellie fought the urge to stamp her foot. "I meant it this time. Do you accept my apology?""It appears," he said, raising his eyebrows, "that you might do me bodily harm if I do not.""Ungracious prig," she muttered. "I am trying to apologize.""And I," he said, "am trying to accept.”

“You are always looking at people like this.” And then she made a face, one he couldn’t possibly begin to describe.“If I ever look like that,” he said dryly, “precisely like that, to be more precise, I give you leave to shoot me.”

“You’ll be seeing him tomorrow night, anyway.”“I am?” Hyacinth asked, at precisely the moment Mr. St. Clair said, “She will?”“You’re accompanying me to the Pleinsworth poetry reading,” Lady D told her grandson. “Or have you forgotten?”Hyacinth sat back, enjoying the sight of Gareth St. Clair’s mouth opening and closing in obvious distress. He looked a bit like a fish, she decided. A fish with the features of a Greek god, but still, a fish.“I really…” he said. “That is to say, I can’t—”“You can, and you will be there,” Lady D said. “You promised.”He regarded her with a stern expression. “I cannot imagine—”“Well, if you didn’t promise, you should have done, and if you love me…”Hyacinth coughed to cover her laugh, then tried not to smirk when Mr. St. Clair shot a dirty look in her direction.“When I die,” he said, “surely my epitaph will read, ‘He loved his grandmother when no one else would.’”“And what’s wrong with that?” Lady Danbury asked.”