He set his hat on the table, shook his head. His hair was a bit longer than gentlemen wore, but it shimmered in such a rich, lovely shade of chestnut brown she would not think of advising him to have it trimmed.

“She might come over later. Just now she is writing a letter to Ma and Pa.”

“Mother and Father.” She felt something of a harpy pointing it out. But she had committed to his transformation. Since she had decided not to comment on his hair, she could not let his language go uncorrected. “A gentleman would say, ‘Mother and Father.’”

“Seems awfully formal. They’d have a good laugh if they could hear it.”

“Rather say, ‘It does seem awfully formal. They would laugh if they could hear me.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Yes, well, nearly.” She was a shrew. The truth was that she was beginning to find she quite enjoyed the way he spoke. However, needs were what they were. “Gentlemen do not use contractions.”

“I fear, Lady Shaw, that my instruction will be a challenge to you. Please do not lose patience with me.”

If only patience was all she had to lose. Her fear was that she might lose something more costly. Such as her self-possession, her levelheadedness...her very heart.