““Eliza, the man who proposed to you—” “Samuel?” “Yes.” She looked up at him, a teasing grin opening her lips. “Are you going to ask if he kissed me?” He hadn’t planned on it, though the thought had crossed his mind. Now that she mentioned it, he most definitely would ask. “Did he?” She moved her hands up to the cravat that peeked out from his greatcoat. “Would it make a difference if he did?” Yes, I’ll break his jaw. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Her eyes twinkled. She looked far too amused. “Well, if it does matter I might have to keep such information from your knowledge.” He took her by the shoulders and extended his arms to their full length. “Don’t toy with me, Eliza Campbell. Now you must tell me,” he said, trying to sound more playful than he felt. “Alright.” She moved close to him again. “Yes. He did.” Thomas’s muscles stiffened. He’d hoped she would say no, although he’d doubted it. Rotten scoundrel. “Often?” “No. Not often. Only when he proposed.” “Good, because from now on the only person you’ll be kissing is me.” And Samuel had better stay as far away as possible. “I’m pleased to hear it, Thomas Watson. I don’t want to kiss anyone else.””
