My lady’s eyes widened in horror, and two little hands clutched at his coat.

“Oh, Miles!”

His arm tightened round her waist.

“Sure, asthore, I’m still alive to tell the tale, though ’tis not far I’ll be getting with you interrupting at every moment!”

“But, Miles, how terrible! You might have been killed! And you never told me! ’Twas monstrous wicked of you, darling!”

“Faith, Molly, how should I be telling you when ’twas yourself that was fast asleep? Now will you whisht?”

She nodded obediently, and dimpled.