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Gwen perked up at that. “‘Other things’?”

The gentleman nodded. “Yes.”

It was even more provoking, Gwen could not help but think as more and more people started to arrive in Hyde Park now that the sun was out, that the Marquess of Ravenshurst did not appear to have any interest in… Well.

The romantic elements of courting.

She knew her father had been most surprised when the marquess had approached him and requested permission to court his youngest daughter. It had been a tad insulting, just how surprised her father had been—had he expected her to wait years and years to marry, as had her siblings and cousins? Did he not know that eighteen was a perfectly respectable age for a lady to marry, according to Society? Was she expected to become branded a spinster like so many other Chance women had—never mind that half of them had more options, being titled and wealthier than she was? Her father had never explained his hesitation. But still, he had given his consent and the courtship had begun.

Though how anyone was supposed to tell, Gwen did not know.

No flowers, like her Cousin Lilianna had received when pursued by her now-husband.

No dramatic displays of affection, like her Cousin Evelyn had delighted in when falling in love with her now-husband.

No outrageous adventures, like her Cousin Lucy had enjoyed when accidentally attracting her now-husband.

Now that Gwen came to think about it, most of her family had, at times, ignored propriety and become engaged in activities that were highly unsuitable.

And here she was, soggy in Hyde Park, eating the dullest sandwich filling known to man and being told by her gentleman that he must tell her ‘other things,’ things that so far had not been mentioned.

Right. Time to speed this thing up.

“My lord,” Gwen said genially, leaning forward and taking his hand in hers, “I must tell you, in turn, that I have greatly enjoyed our times together.”

Which was a bit of a stretch.

Look, the man was…fine. He did not overly sweat, he was polite to her parents, he danced well, and he did not lose too often at cards—an occupational hazard around her Aunt Dodo, a mathematician and card player extraordinaire.

Besides, the marquess had no criminal convictions, no mother to meddle, and all his own teeth.

A woman could do much worse!

Gwen tried not to notice that the man had not squeezed her hand back. “I am hopeful of many more enjoyable times in…in the future.”

There. She could not have been more forward, could she?

Apparently, she might need to be. The corners of Lord Ravenshurst’s lips quirked upward, the smile disappearing so quickly, Gwen was only half-sure it had even existed, then he nodded, as though she had made an interesting debating point.

“In the future. Yes.”

Gwen’s breath caught in her throat. After waiting for so long—fine, three weeks—and longing for such a wait… No, that wasn’t quite right.

But she couldn’t think properly, not with her pulse pounding in her ears and excitement building in her lungs and her feet throbbing—

Ah. Yes, she probably should move a spot on this picnic rug, as her feet had entirely gone to sleep.

Shifting as elegantly as a lady could in voluminous, damp skirts, Gwen tried to say calmly, “Yes, well, the future. One must plan, I suppose, for the future. It will not happen all by itself! Ahaha!”

“Ahaha,” said the marquess politely.

And that is the strange thing about him, isn’t it? Gwen could not help but notice. He said, “Ahaha.” He didn’t laugh. He just went through the motions of hilarity, as though that were expected of him and he was happy to oblige.

But he didn’t actually laugh.

Gwen glanced over his shoulder once again at her mother, who had taken down her umbrella and now used her free hands to give her daughter a huge thumbs-up.

Oh, dear Lord.