“To marry a young relative of yours!” she said scornfully. “No doubt the gentleman whose evil propensities are attributable to brandy!”
“Precisely.”
“Mr. Carlyon,” said Miss Rochdale roundly, “ I am in no mood for such trifling as this! Be so good as to—”
“I am not trifling with you, and I am not Mr. Carlyon.”
“I beg your pardon! It is what you told me!”
“You have my name correctly, but it will be more proper for you to address me as Lord Carlyon.”
“Oh!” said Miss Rochdale. “Well, that makes it no better, sir!”
“Makes what no better?”
“This—this preposterous and ill-timed jest of yours!”
“My proposal may be preposterous, but it is not a jest. There are reasons why I am anxious to see my cousin married as soon as possible.”