“Tutor? Lord! I thought you said he was your cousin?”
“My dear Cedric, do try not to be so hidebound!” begged Sir Richard. “I have figured as a tutor, an uncle, a trustee, and a cousin.”
“You seem to me to be a sad romp!” Cedric told Pen severely. “How old are you?”
“I am seventeen, but I do not see that it is any concern of yours.”
“Seventeen!” Cedric cast a dismayed glance at Sir Richard. “Ricky, you madman! You’re in the basket now, the pair of you! And what your mother and Louisa will say, let alone that sour-faced sister of mine—! When is the wedding?”
“That,” said Sir Richard, “is the point we were discussing when you walked in on us.”
“Better get married quietly somewhere where you ain’t known. You know what people are!” Cedric said, wagging his head. “Damme, if I won’t be best man!”
“Well, you won’t,” said Pen, flushing. “We are not going to be married. It is quite absurd to think of such a thing.”
“I know it’s absurd,” replied Cedric frankly. “But you should have thought of that before you started jauntering about the country in this crazy fashion. There’s nothing for it now: you’ll have to be married!”
“I won’t!” Pen declared. “No one need ever know that I am not a boy, except you, and one other, who doesn’t signify.”