“Wouldn’t you be pleased if I decided I’m becoming too old for adventuring?”Viscount Dare frowned. “You’re not too old for it. But I’d like to think you’re becoming too wise for it.”

“Did you hear that?” the duke asked with a wide grin, turning to Dare. “She said 'papa.'“The viscount returned the candy dish and tea tray to the relocated end table. “I distinctly heard'baboon.'““Hm, well, you're distinctly deaf.”

“I’m going to say a word, just for your general opinion and consideration,” he said, his light blue gaze touching hers.“I’m listening.”“Marriage.”Zephyr blinked. Had he actually just suggested a proposal? A marriage? With her? A thousand thoughts all flitted through her mind, none of them making any sense, but several of them centering on whether she was reading too much or too little into one blasted word. “I think”—she stumbled, backing away from him and toward the village—“that if you mean to ask a question, you should ask it. And you shouldn’t make it so stupidly ambiguous just on the chance that a negative response might embarrass you or wound your feelings.”“Is that so?” He stalked after her.“It is so. And another thing. Before you ask such a question, consider giving me—or whoever you intend on asking—a reason to say yes.”

“Saint took a seat at the main faro table at the Society club. “What the devil is a ladies' political tea?”Tristan Carroway, Viscount Dare, finished placing his wager, then sat back, reaching for his glass ofport. “Do I look like a dictionary?”“You're domesticated.” Saint motioned for a glass of his own, despite unfriendly looks from the tables'other players. “What is it?”“I'm not domesticated; I'm in love. You should try it. Does wonders for your outlook on life.”“I'll take your word for it, thank you.”

“Shaw grinned again, wishing mightily that he and she were alone by the fire. “I never claimed to be much of a gentleman. But whether you tote about a parasol or not, you are every inch a lady. Quite possibly the finest I’ve ever met.”“Goodness. If you continue saying such things, I’ll begin to think you’re smitten with me.” “I’d describe it more as being clubbed into submission,” he murmured, aware both that her palm had come to rest just over his heart, and that his men and the Mayfair mob across the fire pit could see it. “But yes, I am rather smitten with you.”

“He sighed. “You’ve chosen poorly, you know. When we return to England you’ll be celebrated, just as I will be. If you’ve decided to abandon me, you might have netted someone titled, someone with enough wealth to see you esteemed and me able to continue my botanical studies. That would have been the aim of a dutiful daughter.”“I’m not abandoning you, and I chose Shaw. You’re the one who declined to attend your daughter’s wedding.”“You never used to speak to me like this. A dutiful child would never have accepted a proposal from the first man who asked, simply because he did ask.”“He didn’t propose to me. I proposed to him.”Finally he looked more surprised than angry and frustrated. “You proposed to him?”“Yes, because I didn’t think he believed me when I said that I loved him. I can hardly blame him, since I had to think about it for an entire day after he said it to me, but I do love him. More than I can articulate to you.”

“So you intend to spend the remainder of your life whoring, drinking, wagering, and being as outrageous as you can manage?"Bram shook himself. He made it a point to be serious as little as possible, and neither did he want to argue with two newly married men about the meruts of being leg-shackled."Please Phin," he said aloud. "I would never think so small. You know my ultimate goal is to lower the standards of morality enough that everything I do becomes acceptable.”