He remained where he was, his eyes inches from hers, probably still liquid warm. He certainly was, his breath stuck somewhere at the back of his throat for what seemed an eternity.

"I-"

"Lord Hawley, about-about me helping you-"

His throat tightened, so his breath came in tattered rags. "Miss Armstrong, when a moment's so perfect-"

"Perfect?"

"Yes, perfect."

Because it was. Well, apart from one moment there where he damn well nearly forgot ...