Alex’s eyebrows clamped together. What was going on here? Why did it matter when he met her? He searched his memory again … but he knew it wasn’t any good. Before coming back from Italy he’d probably been to only seven or eight ton parties in his life. And Charlotte didn’t even come out until the year he left for Italy. He stared down at her, his body painfully aroused just by the sight of her, even when she was crying.

Charlotte made an effort to get hold of herself. Think rationally, she told herself. Don’t be a widgeon! So he doesn’t remember you. He probably forgot all about making love at the masquerade ball because he thought the girl was a trollop, and that’s not the same thing as sleeping with a lady. But now he’s saying that he won’t run around seducing women in gardens. He’s promising. And adultery is what you were afraid of.

She gave a broken, tiny smile that lit Alex’s heart. “I’m sorry to be such a wet goose,” she said. “I never cry!”

“Aha!” Alex said. “You see, I am making the right decision. You will be a lovely mother for Pippa, because that’s the only thing she knows how to do well.”

Charlotte smiled.

“But Charlotte,” Alex said seriously. “We need to sort this out. The fact is, darling, that you undoubtedly met my brother Patrick. We look like a matched set of pistols, my father always said.” And, in response to her questioning look, “all black with silver trim.” Her smile peeked out again. That’s twice, Alex thought. “Our own nurse couldn’t tell us apart…. She used to complain dreadfully when we would play tricks on her, which we did up to a few years ago. If Patrick were here, in England, he would clear up the whole mess. But since he’s not, we simply have to forget it.”

Charlotte nodded silently. Of course, he was absolutely wrong. She could never, never have mistaken Alex’s endearing dimple for anyone else’s, or the bullish set of his shoulders, or the arrogant way his eyebrows flew up. Those weren’t even characteristics that were attached to one’s face. She had a painter’s eye, and she looked past faces, at mannerisms, all the time. Maybe after they were married for some time she would feel more comfortable about mentioning something so intimate. And then she could tell him and perhaps he would even laugh.

Alex sensed it as her body relaxed. He pulled her back into his arms, his hands ruffling her soft curls.

“So, will you marry me?” he whispered against her neck. “Because I think I could easily love you … and perhaps you will love me … and I can watch you paint, and we can even have another baby like Pippa, but with your lovely mouth.”

Charlotte nodded shakily against his shoulder.