“I’m too young?”
“Much too young, child.”
Horatia swallowed valiantly. “I shall grow older,” she ventured. “I d-don’t want to p-press you, but I am thought to be quite sensible.”
“Do you know how old I am?” asked the Earl.
“N-no, but my cousin, Mrs M-Maulfrey, says you are not a d-day above thirty-five.”
“Does not that seem a little old to you?” he suggested.
“Well, it is rather old, perhaps, b-but no one would think you were as much,” said Horatia kindly.
At that a laugh escaped him. “Thank you,” he bowed. “But I think that thirty-five makes a poor husband for seventeen.”
“P-pray do not give that a thought, sir!” said Horatia earnestly. “I assure you, for my p-part I do not regard it at all. In f-fact, I think I should quite like to marry you.”
“Would you?” he said. “You do me a great honour, ma’am.” He came towards her, and she got up. He took her hand, and raised it to his lips a moment. “Now what is it you want me to do?”