“The family name,” Adelaide said again. “The name our children will be known by. Surely you cannot think that a baron would share his title with the children, even if he is the lowest ranking peer.” She giggled at the thought, clearly ridiculous in her mind.

A more perfect opening for his greatest baiting ever, he could not have wished for.

“No, of course not,” he replied carefully, smiling just a little. “But, in this case, they do happen to be one and the same.”

Her laughter stopped, but the smile that had accompanied it remained. “What does?”

“The name and the title.” Harrison gestured briefly with his hand, as though he needed to illustrate. “They are the same. Basset.”

Now the smile vanished as well. “You cannot be serious.”

He spread his hands out slightly, palms up, and shrugged. “I am. Did you not listen to the vows? Or read my name on the register?”

Adelaide’s eyes went wide, and she gaped for a moment. “I was… I was a trifle occupied. I thought…”

“You thought Mr. Keyes did not know the way of performing a marriage ceremony of a peer and used the title as my surname?” Harrison smiled with some sympathy, though his left knee seemed to tingle with laughter that began to roll up the length of him.

“It never occurred to me that…” Adelaide sputtered as though an insect had flown in her face. “Well, is the name at least significant?”

“Basset?” Harrison asked mildly, inferring there could be some confusion there. “Oh, yes. It’s an ancient name. From the Norman times, as it happens. Proudly English, and we’ve made our mark. There have been many, many Bassets out of Cornwall and Devon and Staffordshire and Wiltshire. There is a line that emigrated to Ireland, another to America, one to Canada, and we even have some convicted relatives sent to Australia. Really, the whole world is full of Bassets who are distantly related to me.”

A sound emitted from his wife that was somehow a cry, a whimper, a cough, and a gag all at once, with a hint of shrillness at its end. “Basset! How could you do this to me?”

Harrison blinked at the accusation. “Me? I didn’t create the title, I only inherited it.”

If she heard him, she gave no sign. “It is worse than being common!” she spat, her lip curling in disgust and horror. “What is the point of marrying a title if my children will have my same name?”

“I did tell you about Lord de Dunstaville,” Harrison reminded her, wincing slightly. “But you didn’t want to hear. It’s his name, too.”

“And the name of your brother,” Adelaide retorted, catching his defense and glaring as though this had all been some plot. “And likely some Cornish vicar. And we may as well share a name with the blacksmith.”