“She’s a nice woman. I am certain that she will refuse you gently. I told you, Quill, under different circumstances I would enjoy her company.” Peter sat down and stared straight ahead. “I think I will just go ahead and do it, Quill. I can’t move to America. They don’t…it’s full of savages. Impossible. I’ll just marry the woman. At least she seems to have escaped utter ruin, thanks to the Duchess of Gisle’s dropping bodice.”

Peter roused himself from dejection enough to look up at his brother. “I say, Quill, do you think it was a little odd that Her Grace’s bodice took the plunge just after Gabby’s?”

To Quill’s mind, it was not odd but obvious. Sophie had moved into the number-two spot on his secret list of treasured females, and there were only two females on it. Although he did maintain an errant affection for a milkmaid named Anne, who divested him of his virginity some fifteen years before.

He shrugged.

Peter was used to his unresponsiveness and didn’t even notice. “So Gabby didn’t give you an answer yet?”

Quill shrugged again. Of course, Gabby had said that she would marry him. But that was before he decided in all conscience that he had to detail what a bad bargain he truly was. Smelling of the shop, and dragging a gimpy leg. But most important, there were the migraines.

“Well, just give me a wink at supper,” Peter said gloomily, straightening his neckcloth and heading for the door. “As I said, you needn’t worry about me. I’ve decided to take my medicine and marry the chit.”

Codswallop appeared at the door. “Miss Jerningham awaits, Mr. Dewland.”

Quill stepped out of the salon and found Gabby pulling on her gloves in the entranceway. She was tightly buttoned into a pelisse of a deep rose color, and all her gorgeous hair was tucked away under a tight bonnet. She cast him an impatient look. Definitely she was in a cantankerous mood.

His curricle was pulled up before the house. Quill deftly helped Gabby up onto the seat and then followed. He waved off his groomsman and took the reins himself.

It was odd, Gabby thought to herself, how different it was in the carriage without Phoebe. Or perhaps it was because when Quill drove her from the docks, she was so much in love with Peter. She hadn’t noticed the way Quill’s muscled thighs took up most of the seat. But now …

She cleared her throat. “Have you informed your brother of our engagement?”

“No. I thought I should be certain that you wish to marry me first.”

Gabby blinked. Hadn’t she made that clear in the morning, rolling around on the rug like a trollop? “We agreed to marry,” she said, her voice stiff.