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He gave a careless shrug, and winced. “I’ve known him for many years.”

“Why did you do it, anyway? Propose to me?”

“I couldn’t let you get sacked for helping me.”

“But I shot you.”

“Do you want to give your employer the pickpocket and pistol shot version of our betrothal?” Now he looked amused.

“Ooh, when you put it that way, I don’t see how it can be done. What am I to say—that I went husband-hunting with a gun and bagged you?”

“Tell her whatever convenient fiction you like, but if you don’t want to be sacked…”

“Very well,” she said. “We met over a book and are betrothed and will remain so until—”

“—you decide we no longer suit.” His gaze didn’t waver.

Viv shook her head. “Until Lady Melforth and I finish writing our guide.”

“Your what?”

“Our Lady’s Guide to Walking in London.”