"Wicked, indelicate creature! 'Tis my husband!"
"Your husband! Enfin—"
She cast him a sidelong glance of mingled coquetry and reproof.
"Your mind is at rest again, I trust?"
"Of course! A husband? Pooh, a bagatelle, no more!"
"My husband is not a bagatelle!" she laughed. "I am very fond of him."
"This grows serious," he frowned. "'Tis very unfashionable, surely?"
She met his teasing eyes and cast down her lashes.
"Captain Lovelace, you may take me to the Pavilion."
"Sweet tormentor, not until you cease so to misname me."