He looked at her impassively.
“Edge.” That was the easiest part. “Earl of B-Burchester . . .”
“Go on.”
“I d-d-don’t remember.”
“Viscount Romsey, Baron Telscombe.”
Thank goodness theessin viscount was silent. “Viscount Romsey, Baron T-T-T-T—”
She hiccoughed.
“T-T-T—”
He waited.
“Telscombe.”
“Now say the following—”
“That’s not fair. I did what you said. I said your name.”
“Just this last little bit.”
“Then can I get out of the mud?”
“Maybe. Say Phineas Edge.”
“I did this already.”
“Please, Caro, please.”
“Phineas Edge.”
“Will you marry me?”
“I’m already m-married to you.”
“Say it.”
She licked her lips. “Will you marry me?” she whispered. “Phineas Edge, Earl of Burchester, Viscount Romsey, Baron Telscombe?”
“Yes.” He lay back and put his elbows behind his head and turned his face toward the gray sky and the overhanging dripping branches. “I know you don’t mean it, Caro, but I wanted to hear you say it.”
She got up on her elbow. “How do you know I d-d-don’t mean it?”
“You didn’t want to marry me. You had to. Our indiscretion. Your compromise. And then I tricked you with my tongue. I know I’m not what you want.”
Not what she wanted? She wanted him too much. “Phineas.”
He turned his head and looked at her.
“Did you really mean it about my tongue? That it makes you want to kiss me?” She could see his gaze was on her mouth and that his lips fell open slightly when she saidmakthandkith.
“Yes, darling.”
“So, if I were to say something likeSurely the slumbering shepherd has sweet sleep, you would like that?”
