“You're crazy.”

“Yes, I am. And so are you. Will you?” He held her tighter and she pretended to scream. He held her tighter still, and she laughed uncontrollably and then he kissed her, teasing her until he forced an answer from her lips between the kisses.

“Yes…yes…yes… I will.” She was breathless, and they were both smiling. “When will you ask my father?” She sat back with a blissful expression, and Charles's face clouded over.

“He'll never agree. And if he does, he'll insist we go back to the States and start a serious life there where he can watch us.” He looked like a caged lion again as he spoke and once more began to pace the room. “I'll tell you right now, I won't do that.”

“Won't ask my father, or go back to New York?” She looked suddenly worried, as she stretched her long, graceful legs in front of her, and he tried desperately not to notice.

“New York, for sure…and…” He stopped and looked at her again, his black hair looking wild, his eyes boring into hers. “What if we elope?”

“Here?” She looked stunned, and he nodded. He was serious, she knew him well enough to know that. “My God, they'll kill me.”

“I won't let them.” He sat down next to her, as they both thought it over. “You sail in two weeks, if we're going to do it, we'd better do it quickly.” She nodded quietly, thinking it over, weighing it in her mind, but she already knew there was no choice, no question, no decision. She would have gone to the end of the world with him. And when he kissed her again, she was certain.

“Do you think they'll forgive us eventually?” She was concerned about them as well. Like him, she was an only child, and her father was so much older. And they expected so much of her, particularly her mother. Marielle had been presented to Society in New York the winter before, and now they had done the Grand Tour, their expectation was that in a short while, she would find a suitable husband.