"You look rather serious," Charles commented, causing her to look up at him and blink several times.

She coughed and touched her head in a reflexive manner. "Oh, dear!" she suddenly burst out. "I've forgotten my bonnet."

"Leave it," Charles instructed.

"I cannot go out without one."

"No one will see you. We are only going to the meadow."

"But—"

"But what?"

She let out an irritated exhale. "I shall freckle."

"That doesn't bother me," he said with a shrug.

"It bothers me!"

"Don't worry. They'll be on your own face, so you won't have to see them."

Ellie gaped at him, astounded by his illogic.

"The simple fact is," he continued, "that I like to see your hair."

"But it's—"

"Red," he finished for her. "I know. I wish you'd cease persisting in calling it that common color when it's really so much more than that."

"Really, my lord, it's only hair."

"Is it?" he murmured.

Ellie rolled her eyes, deciding that it must be time for a change of subject. Something, perhaps, that obeyed ordinary rules of logic. "How does your ankle fare? I noticed you are no longer using the cane."

"Very well. I've still a bit of pain, and I do find myself limping, but I don't appear to be any worse for having fallen out of a tree."

She pursed her lips waspishly. "You shouldn't climb trees on a stomach full of whiskey."

"Sounding like a wife already," Charles murmured, helping her up into the curricle.

"One must practice, mustn't one?" she returned, determined not to let him get the last word, even if her own last words were less than inspired.

"I suppose." He looked down his nose and pretended to inspect his ankle, then hopped up into the curricle. "No, the fall doesn't seem to have done any permanent damage. Although," he added wickedly, "the rest of me is quite black and blue from my altercation yesterday."

"Altercation?" Ellie's lips parted in concerned surprise. "What happened? Are you quite all right?"

He shrugged and sighed in mock resignation as he snapped the reins and set the horses in motion. "I was tackled to the carpet by a wet, red-haired virago."

"Oh." She swallowed uncomfortably and looked out the side, watching as the village of Bellfield rolled by. "I beg your pardon. I was not myself."

"Really? I'd say you were precisely yourself."

"I beg your pardon."

He smiled. "Have you noticed that you always say, 'I beg your pardon' when you don't know what to say?"

Ellie stopped herself a split second before she said, "I beg your pardon." again.

"You're not usually at a loss for words, are you?" He didn't give her time to reply before he said, "It's rather fun befuddling you."

"You don't befuddle me."

"No?" he murmured, touching his finger to the corner of her mouth. "Then why are your lips quivering as if you have something you desperately wish to say, only you don't know how to say it?"

"I know exactly what I want to say, you fiendish little snake."

"I stand corrected," he said with an amused laugh. "Evidently you are in complete command of your rather extensive vocabulary."

"Why must everything be such a game to you?"

"Why shouldn't it be?" he countered.

"Because ... because ..." Ellie's words trailed off when she realized that she didn't have a ready answer.

"Because why?" he prodded.

"Because marriage is a serious thing," she said in a rush. "Very serious."

His answer was swift, and his voice was low. "Believe me, no one knows that as well as I do. Were you to back out of this marriage, I'd be left with a pile of stones and no capital to keep it up."

"Wycombe Abbey deserves a more gracious moniker than 'pile of stones,' " Ellie said automatically. She'd always held a deep admiration for good architecture, and the abbey was one of the more beautiful buildings in the district.

He cast a sharp look in her direction. "It will be a literal pile of stones if I do not have the funds to support it."

Ellie had the distinct impression that he was warning her. He would be most unhappy with her if she backed out of the marriage. She had no doubt he could make her life utter hell if he so chose, and she had a feeling that should she leave him at the altar, spite alone would be motivation enough for him to devote his life to ruining hers.

"You needn't worry," she said crisply. "I have never broken my word, and I do not intend to begin doing so now."

"I am much relieved, my lady."

Ellie frowned. He didn't sound relieved. He sounded more self-satisfied than anything else. She was contemplating why this disturbed her so when he spoke again.

"You should know something about me, Eleanor."

She turned to him with widened eyes.

"I may treat much of life as a game, but I can be deadly serious when I so choose."

"I beg your pardon?" Then she bit her lip for saying it.

"I am not a man to cross."

She drew back. "Are you threatening me?"

"My future wife?" he said blandly. "Of course not."

"I think you are threatening me. And I think I don't like it."

"Really?" he drawled. "Is that what you think?"

"I think," she shot back, "that I liked you better when you were drunk."