Excellent. What was it they said? Something old, something new, something borrowed, something yowling.

“Oh,” she sighed. “Don’t weep,” he warned her. “It’s not even that big of a stone.”

“I will not curtsy to a girl who knelt at my feet, simply because she gets down on her knees for you.”

To the butler, she whispered, “Do you have advice?” “I suppose it’s too late to run.” “Other than that.” “Drink heavily? Someone in the house ought to, and I cannot.”

“You little dissembler. Share.” “No.” “Very well, I’ll leave you here.” He rose to his feet. “All alone. In the dark. With the noises.”

You crusty botch of nature. You poisonous bunch-backed toad. Sitting in this weaselly little house full to reeking with betrayal and . . .” He waved at the nearest shelf. “And ghastly curtains.” “What’s wrong with the curtains?” “Everything!” he roared.

“Your Grace, you wouldn’t know a love match if it punched you in the stomach.” The butler plunked the basket of cricket balls at Ash’s feet. “Dodge.” “What?” Thwack. Khan dealt him a solid blow to the gut. Ash doubled over.

“The duke isn’t always like this,” Khan confided, handing her the next set of papers. “No?” Emma pounced on the kernel of hope. “Usually, he’s a great deal worse.”

The female body came in all shapes and sizes, and he’d never seen any reason to complain about the variety.