You must not – you really really must not – marry Lady Walling.”
A wry smile danced at the corners of the Marquis’s lips. “Indeed? Then who may I marry, Miss Dovedale?”
Eugenia’s eyes widened as if she imagined the Marquis a fool to ask.
“Why, me!” she beamed, brightly and innocently. “Me, Eugenia Dovedale.”
And with that, she stumbled dazedly into his willing arms.
Very odd BC novel...