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“Mmm,” Sally said. “And I’ve been wondering . . .”
“Yes?”
He nibbled at her shoulder, which made it rather hard to concentrate.
Sally tried valiantly anyway. “I’ve been wondering if you’re like the little goat man all over.”
Mr. Pynch stilled against her shoulder, and for a moment, Sally thought that perhaps she’d been too impertinent.
Then he raised his head, and she saw the gleam in his eye. “Why, Miss Suchlike, I’d be happy to help answer your questions, but I think there is one thing we must do first.”
“And what’s that?” she asked breathlessly.
His face lost all trace of teasing. He suddenly became quite serious, his blue eyes gazing down at her almost hesitantly.
He cleared his throat. “I believe you must marry me, Miss Suchlike, in order for us to continue this discussion.”
She pulled back a little and stared up at him, completely at a loss for words.
He scowled. “What?”
“I thought you said you were too old for me,” she said.
“I did—”
“And that I was too young to know my own mind.”
“I did.”
“And that I ought to be looking at other men. Men more my own age, like that footman Sprat.”
His scowl became thunderous. “I don’t remember telling you to look at young Sprat. Have you?”
“Well, no,” she admitted.
It had nearly broken her heart when he’d said those words, for she didn’t want to look at any other man but him. The only thing that had saved her, in fact, was that he’d kept creeping up behind her in the mornings and losing his silly wager. Mr. Pynch didn’t seem able to stop himself from their flirtation, and she certainly couldn’t.
Not that she’d wanted to.
“Good,” he growled now.
She beamed up at him.
He stared at her a moment and then shook his head as if to clear it. “Well?”
“Well what?”
He sighed. “Will you marry me, Sally Suchlike?”
“Oh.” Sally carefully smoothed her skirt, because of course she wanted to marry Mr. Pynch. But she was a levelheaded girl, and she needed to make absolutely sure. Marriage, after all, was a very big step. “Why do you want to marry me?”
His expression was enough to send most girls into flight, but Sally had been studying Mr. Pynch and his expressions for some time now, and she knew she was quite safe with him. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve kissed you every day in this hallway for the past fortnight or more. And even though you are too young and much too pretty for me, and you’ll no doubt regret sooner or later being tied to an ugly bastard like me, I still want to marry you.”
“Why?”
He stared down at her, and if Mr. Pynch had had hair, he might’ve pulled it out in frustration. “Because I love you, you silly lass!”
“Oh, good,” Sally purred, and wrapped her arms about his thick neck. “Then I’ll marry you. But you’re wrong, you know.”
