“What, that comment about your hair? I do so love to tease you. Were you embarrassed?”

“Of course not. I've grown surprisedly used to your rakish statements in the three days I've known you.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“You made me blush,” she ground out.

“I thought you were used to my rakish statements, as you so delicately put it.”

“I am. But that doesn't mean I won't blush.”

Charles blinked and looked to her left, as if he were speaking to an imaginary companion. “I say, is she speaking English? I vow I have completely lost hold of this conversation.”

“Did you hear what she said about my hair?” Ellie demanded. “‘We have never known what to do,’ she said. As if she has had a place in my life for years. As if I would let her have a place.”

“Yes…?” Charles prompted.

“I wanted to skewer her with a stare, flay her with a frown, impale her with a—I say, what are you doing?”

Charles would have answered her, but he was laughing so hard he was doubled over.

“The blush quite ruined the effect,” she muttered. “How was I to give her the cut direct when my cheeks were the color of poppies? Now she'll never know how furious I am with her.”

“Oh, I'd say she knows,” Charles gasped, still laughing at Ellie's attempt at righteous indignation.

“I'm not certain I approve of your making light of my deplorable situation.”

“You're not certain? It seems rather clear to me.” He reached out and playfully brushed his index finger against the corner of her mouth. “That's a rather telling frown.”

Ellie didn't know what to say, and she hated not knowing what to say, so she just crossed her arms and made a sound like, “Hmmmph.”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “Are you going to be in a disagreeable mood all afternoon? Because if you are, I happen to have brought along the Times for our picnic, and I can certainly read it while you stare at the countryside and meditate upon the fifty different ways you'd like to do your future stepmother in.”

Ellie's jaw dropped, but she snapped it back into place in time to retort, “I've at least eighty methods in mind, thank you very much, and I shouldn't mind if you read at all, as long as I get the financial pages.” She allowed herself a small smile.

Charles chuckled as he offered her his arm. “Actually, I was planning to check some of my investments, but I wouldn't be averse to sharing with you.”

Ellie thought about how close they would have to sit in order to read the paper together on the picnic blanket. “I bet you wouldn't,” she muttered. Then she felt rather stupid, because such a comment implied that he wanted to seduce her, and she was fairly certain that women were more or less interchangeable in Charles's mind. Oh, he was going to marry her, that was true, but Ellie had a sinking suspicion that she had been chosen because she was convenient. After all, he himself had told her that he had barely a fortnight to find a bride.