What do you say to a man you are supposed to know but don’t, but he proposes to you anyway and he lives in a different time period? I peruse my mental catalogue of Jane Austen dialogue for possibilities. Emma’s “Believe me, sir, I am far, very far, from gratified in being the object of such professions” is far too harsh. As is Lizzy Bennet’s “You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.” Even if I wanted to say yes, Jane Austen wouldn’t be much help. After all, what did Emma say to Mr. Knightley? “Just what she ought, of course.”

Edgeworth’s squeezing my hands snaps me out of search mode. “Allow me to interpret this interesting silence as a favorable reply?”

Omigod. He is practically quoting Mr. Elton verbatim, and Emma hasn’t even been written yet.

He raises my hands to his lips, but I extricate them before he can seal the deal. “I don’t mean to be rude, but --- are you out of your mind?”