Meggie grabbed his hands. "You can't do that! What is wrong with you? You can't take off your clothes in your estate room, particularly since I'm standing right in front of you. My father is the damned vicar!"

And he doubled over with laughter, and the feel of that laughter was deep and full and he was growing quite used to it. He said, knowing he shouldn't, knew it was too soon, but unable to prevent the words from bursting out of his mouth, "Meggie, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Meggie gaped at him. He wanted her to marry him? This was quite the strangest day-kicking a hassock, falling on her rump, and a marriage proposal. And then Meggie thought of Jeremy, thought of kicking him off the back of his prized Arabian stud, perhaps even kicking him off the edge of the earth. At least Jeremy had taught her a very important lesson. Ignorance of a man's opinions could bring a woman low. She said, "I'm sorry, Thomas, but before I give this consideration I must question you first."

"Question me? Oh, I see. No, Meggie, I'm not a wife beater. I would never strike a woman."

"Neither is Jeremy and neither would he."

Naturally he knew exactly who this Jeremy was, and he felt cold all the way to his toes as he said mildly, "This is your almost dratted cousin?"

"Yes, he is visiting. I wanted to smack him silly last night."

"Ah, so he's the one who caused your ire to rise to dangerous levels. He's the one responsible for making you boot the stuffing in my hassock?"

"He's the one. He's also a man. I couldn't believe what came out of his mouth, Thomas, and he's only been married six months or so. I know my father isn't at all like that, but I just don't know about you, and so I must ask you. You see, if I married you and you turned into Jeremy, then I would have to shoot you. A vicar's daughter isn't allowed to do things like that."

"I understand perfectly. Ask away."

"Do you believe women are stupid?"

"No more stupid than men."

"I personally believe we are far less stupid than men. I came to this belief quite objectively after raising Max and Leo. All right, so you claim to be even-handed. Now, do you believe it is a husband's right to tell his wife she may not ride her mare when she becomes with child?"

He could but stare at her, her voice so very serious, so intense, and he remembered the anger that made her face red to her eyebrows. He said slowly, "If I had a wife and she was carrying a child, why then I would trust that she had the good sense not to do anything to endanger either herself or the babe. I would not want a wife who is a twit. I would not want a wife who needed instruction on something as obvious as that."

"Excellent, just excellent," Meggie said. "I knew you weren't an idiot. Now, do you wish God hadn't made women so that you wouldn't have to deal with them when you wanted a child? You wish that He'd devised another way for men to acquire boy children?"

"No. Don't tell me Jeremy could have intimated anything that ridiculous? Surely you mustn't have heard correctly."

"That was a very long question and your answer was very short. Would you care to elaborate?"

"No, Meggie, I wouldn't. Have I passed your test?"

She stroked her jaw, frowned at the hassock that had laid her low, and said, sighing, "Actually, to be honest, I'm not sure that Jeremy really believes that. It's just what I accused him of believing. Do you believe that husbands have the right to give orders to their wives?"

He said slowly, "I've never been married, Meggie. Would I ever give you orders? Yes, if you were in danger and I wanted to protect you."

"That's all right," she said, staring again at the dead mouse in the far corner. "I would give you orders as well if I believed you were in danger. Also, you're bigger than I am. If we ever were in any danger, surely your size would be useful."

"I hope so."

"I know all about horses, Thomas. I don't know much about studs and how to manage them, but I know I'm smart enough to learn. If you had a stud, would you consider me too stupid to be useful, all of this based solely on the fact that I'm not a man?"

"You, the premier racing cat trainer, not useful? That's ridiculous, Meggie. No man, not even an idiot, could say that."

"He believes women are too stupid to know man sorts of things."

"A moron," Thomas said. "The man who said that is a moron. Jeremy, I take it? Would you like me to pound him, perhaps kick him off the cliffs into the Channel?"

She shook her head sadly. "No. If you did that, he would hit on the beach, not wash out at all, and his body would be quickly discovered and you would be hanged." She sighed. "Anyway, if I'm not allowed to pound him, then it wouldn't be fair to have you do it. Do you like women, Thomas?"

"Immensely."

"Do you really wish to marry me?"

"Yes."

"Why? You've known me no more than a month."

"How odd. It seems like I've known you all my life." He paused a moment, looked down at the floor, then out the window. Finally, he said, surprise in his voice, "The thing is, Meggie, you make me laugh."

She walked up to him, hugged her arms around his back, and leaned her head back. "I can't think of a better reason. All right, I'll marry you."

He nearly shook he was so relieved. He slowly closed his arms around his back. He didn't kiss her, just held her. He would have to accustom himself to being a husband.

"Thomas?"

"Yes, Meggie."

"If we were blessed, and I conceived, would you expect me to present you with a boy?"

Children, he thought, children, something he'd assumed were simply a part of married life, but he hadn't thought of them, not as a reality, not as a natural result of making love to Meggie. "I could probably expect all I wanted. I don't think one can predict these things." He held her closer, closed his eyes, and tried not to think of anything outside of right now and the both of them standing very close in this room with a dead mouse in the corner.

He said against her left ear, "Perhaps I will set Tansie up in a quilt business."

She laughed and lightly bit his collarbone, even as she groaned at the taste of the sticky brandy on the front of his shirt.

Jeremy Stanton-Greville left at nine o'clock the following morning, feeling just a bit guilty because Meggie was obviously still angry at him. He'd wanted to hug her and punch her arm, tell her that soon she would learn that men could be led about like pigs with rings in their noses. No, not a good image. Well, maybe some day he would tell her that he'd just been jesting. She'd been so defensive, so ready to tear his throat out at his steady stream of insults.

Fact was, he had insulted her and her sex quite thoroughly, but not when he'd said that a wife's well-being should be the husband's responsibility. When Meggie was married, she would learn that was one of the main uses for a husband. That and sex. He grinned vacuously and began whistling between his thoroughbred's ears.

Not seven minutes later, Thomas Malcombe, seventh earl of Lancaster, knocked on the vicarage door.

Mary Rose, who was devoutly grateful that Jeremy had taken his leave, fearing that Meggie would go over the edge and try to stuff him up the chimney, blinked at the sight of Thomas Malcombe, beautifully garbed in riding clothes, so grateful that it was he and not Jeremy returning for some reason, that she nearly threw her arms around him and squeezed hard. He was carrying a riding crop in his right hand, his hat in his left. His dark hair was immaculate and she suspected that he hadn't set that hat on his head at all this morning. He was, she realized, a very handsome man.

She gave him her hand. "Good morning, Thomas. What a delightful surprise. Meggie is visiting with Mrs. Beach, who suffers from asthma and was wheezing quite dreadfully all last night."