"Speaking of which," he murmured. Hyacinth's mouth fell open as he dropped down to one knee. "What are you doing?" she squeaked, frantically looking this way and that. Lord St. Clair was surely peeking out at them, and heaven only knew who else was, too. "Someone will see," she whispered. He seemed unconcerned. "People will say we're in love." "I--" Good heavens, but how did a woman argue against that? "Hyacinth Bridgerton," he said, taking her hand in his, "will you marry me?" She blinked in confusion. "I already said I would." "Yes, but as you said, I did not ask you for the right reasons. They were mostly the right reasons, but not all." "I--I--" She was stumbling on the words, choking on the emotion. He was staring up at her, his eyes glowing clear and blue in the dim light of the streetlamps. "I am asking you to marry me because I love you," he said"