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“Stupid of me,” she said.

Yet she felt somewhere deep inside her that he was missing the point. Though she wasn’t sure what the point was.

“We do need to talk seriously, Isidore,” he said.

“Hmmm?”

“We have to have a plan.”

“A plan?”

“A plan for our marriage. Neither of us is precisely what the other envisioned as a spouse. We’ll simply have to try to change. As much as we can. That way we won’t find ourselves at odds. So if I hadn’t been me, if you were able to pick any man in the ton, what kind of person would you like him to be?”

She giggled. “Red-haired?”

“Seriously.”

“Must we be serious?” she moaned. “It’s far into the middle of the night. I’m tired.”

“We can sleep late in the morning. No one will dare wake us. It’s important, Isidore.”

She tried to pull herself together. “Seriously? What sort of man would I have chosen?”

“I suppose the more proper question is how would he have differed from me?”

She hesitated.

“Isidore,” he said patiently. “I’m not a fool. I’m the man you’ve got and I just made you very happy. I’m not going to feel insulted if you wish I wore a cravat more frequently.”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

“But not a wig,” he said, alarmed. “I’m not sure I could tolerate a wig.”

“How about a little powder for important occasions?”

“Such as going to Court?”

“More than going to Court. Balls in London. Places where your head would be the only unpowdered one in the crowd.”

“Just not a wig. I cannot wear those little rolls of snails over my ears. But I can powder. What else, Isidore?”

“Could you look a bit more respectable?” She grinned at him. “You are mine, which means that not all the ladies get to enjoy the image of you naked.”

“I like that,” he said with a slow smile.

“I’d rather they didn’t have quite such a chance to see your legs in those short trousers of yours.”

He looked alarmed. “I can’t stop running, Isidore. It’s part of who I am.”

“Perhaps in longer trousers?”

He nodded. “What else?”

“I can’t really think of anything,” Isidore said. The most delicious languor was stealing over her.

“I haven’t told you my wishes for marriage yet.”

Sleep was like a gorgeous warm blanket, hovering at the edge of her vision. “Um…” she said. “Whatever you want.”