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Gwen looked worriedly at Ernest, who merely shrugged.

Which she should have expected. Her poor husband was still in the process of meeting her entire extended family, and given the number of cousins she had—and how many of them had married these last few years and started having children of their own—that was no small task.

She turned back to Percy. “Come on, man. Out with it.”

Her cousin sighed heavily and looked at the floor as he muttered, “I just… I thought I’d have been married by now.”

Gwen blinked.

Well, there was something you didn’t hear every day. A gentleman of the nobility, in no dire need of money, actually wishing he could be married?

“And you aren’t,” she said bluntly, trying to test the waters and ensure she was on the right path.

The anger that momentarily flared Percy’s nostrils suggested she was. “Yes, I’m rather aware of that, thank you, Gwen!”

“You sound just like Michael,” she said before she could stop herself.

Percy grinned at that. “In that case, I apologize.”

Ernest snorted and Gwen gave him a reproving look as she turned back to her cousin. “So let me get this cleared up. You’re sad…because you’re not married?”

“I just… Everyone else is pairing off, even you, the youngest of us all, and you all look so happy afterward!” Percy pointed out with a shrug. “Evelyn and Lucy are beside themselves with joy—”

“Percy’s sisters,” Gwen added for Ernest’s benefit. “They both made love matches. In fact, now I come to think about it, we all have. One way or another.”

Which was rare, indeed—and perhaps a reason why Percy was having so much trouble.

After all, what were the chances that a love match would just present itself? Why, it had to have been mathematically unlikely. Gwen herself had figured the odds had been against her and so had vowed to accept a sensible match, regardless of her feelings. Surely, the odds had been astronomical—she was the eleventh Chance cousin to make such a match! Percy’s mother, her Aunt Dodo, would certainly have worked that one out. Her mathematician’s mind would not have been able to stay away from it.

Mrs. Kinley bustled past them with another tray of strawberry ices as Percy said with a sigh, “I just… It doesn’t matter.”

Gwen’s gaze flickered to her husband, just for a moment, before her cousin’s cheeks flushed.

Gwen made a decision. “Ernest, go away.”

“What?” her husband said blankly.

“What?” said her cousin in shock.

“You heard me: go away,” said Gwen with a smile. “I need to talk to Percy, and you’re getting in the way.”

“No—No, he’s not. I just—”

“I’ll go and find a strawberry ice and guard it for you,” said Ernest with a knowing look, kissing Gwen on the cheek and meandering away.

When she turned back to her cousin, Percy looked bashful. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, it’s hard enough getting this conversation out of you,” she pointed out fairly—and again, perhaps a little more bluntly than was necessary. “Now talk to me. You want to be married. So get married!”

Percy snorted. “It’s all right for you. You found two men who wanted to marry you in the last two months alone!”

Well. There was that.

“Love matches, the lot of you, and I can’t find a single woman I can even comprehend putting up with for more than a week together,” her cousin continued, unfortunately diminishing the moment Gwen was enjoying.

She furrowed her brow. “Have you ever considered that there may not be that many ladies who wish to spend more than a week with you?”

Percy thrust forward his hands. “There you go! It’s impossible.”