“Mrs. Cricket?”
“Do you think I won’t brain you with the fireplace poker?” Charlie asked. “Meg.”
He looked away, hands cradling the coffee cup Colin had handed him. “I’m not good enough for her.”
“She said that?”
He braced himself for his little sister’s temper.
She only frowned. “That doesn’t sound like her.”
Dougal squirmed. The coffee was hot and sweet on his tongue, and it was waking up his drowsy brain. Charlie raised her eyebrows. “Dougal, did Meg actually say that to you?”
“Well, no.”
“And did you actually ask her to marry you?”
“I…” He paused. “I did?” Didn’t he? “No.”
“But you told her you loved her? Or at least esteem her greatly? Whatever bloody dukes say?”
“I…No.”
Charlie rolled her eyes. “But she’s meant to fall at your feet, is that it?”
“No, but—”
“Lord, men are idiots.”
Dougal turned to Colin and George for support. “Don’t look at me,” Colin grinned. “We are idiots. But mostly you.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. They had a point. She made comments about not marrying, about dowries, and he hadn’t wanted to pry. But maybe she thought he didn’t care.
“Anyone can see how you feel about her,” George said in his quiet manner. “About each other.”
“And since you have to marry within the fortnight anyway…” Charlie added. “You go and ask her proper. Or I really will clobber you with a poker.”