“You said I must wear the Roguish p-patch.”
“So I did. I was thinking of something else.”
“Oh!” said Horatia, snubbed.
His sudden smile lit his eyes “I was wondering when you would cease to call me so primly “my lord”,” he said.
“Oh!” said Horatia, reviving. “B-but indeed, sir—”
“But indeed, ma’am!”
“W-well, but what should I c-call you?” she asked doubtfully.
“I have a name, my dear. So too have you—a little name that I am going to use, with your leave.”
“I d-don’t believe you c-care whether you have my l-leave or not!” said Horatia.
“Not very much,” admitted his lordship. “Come, shake hands on the bargain, Horry.”