Page 53 of Unseen

“Seeing as you owe me a rather large favour, Mr Barnley, I would hope you would excuse my early arrival and remember why I am here.”

The man’s face dropped, and he tucked the pocket watch away before casting his displeased gaze over me. “This is the lucky lady then?”

“Indeed.” Azriel smiled at me warmly. “The light of my world.”

“Yes, yes, how romantic.” Mr Barnley hurried around the desk and threw open a folder, snatching up a pen from the surface of the desk, and unscrewing the cap. “Now, I assume she has permission to marry?”

“She does not need it.”

The harried clerk sighed loudly. “Mr Caine, you shall not convince me that this woman is older than 26.”

“She is not, she is merely 24. However, she is a widow.”

Mr Barnley’s head shot up. “How long a widow?”

Azriel frowned, rubbing his chin. “How long has it been now, beloved? Two weeks? Three?”

“Mr Caine!” Mr Barnley slammed the folder shut. “You know full well I cannot marry you, to a widow in her mourning?”

“Not just a widow, Mr Barnley.” Azriel took my hand, and gazed at me lovingly. “My father’s widow.”

“Get out!” Mr Barnley screeched, knocking over a stack of papers as he rounded the desk. “I was willing to marry you to some shop girl, but this? I will not stand for it. Get ou-” He was cut off with a strangled shriek as Azriel seized his collar, slamming the slight man against the edge of the desk, knocking down yet another stack of papers, which flew straight across the floor of the tiny office.

“Hear me now, you little weasel,” Azriel snarled in the man’s bug-eyed face. “I know of your dealings, and your debts. I know you have drunk and whored away your family’s money, and I do not take kindly to a man who leaves his expecting wife crying in a home with no food, nor heat.”

The man sputtered, slapping at Azriel’s arms, but this only served to have Azriel shake him harder.

“Shut up! I will make right your debts, and see to it that your offspring is not destitute. I shall call off the debtors who would carry away your pretty wife in the night. But the price is this.”

“It is not allowed!” The man squawked, his spectacles sliding from his sweaty nose. “I-I cannot-”

“You can, and you will. Now, marry us, and I shall see to it that besides your debt, a tidy little bonus of two thousand pounds finds its way into your hands. Have I made myself clear?”

Barnley stopped struggling, and I resisted the urge to let out a rather long sigh. The mention of money had his eyes no longer bugging out of his face with fear, but shining with greed.

“Two thousand pounds?” He whispered hoarsely. “That is generous, sir.”

“Exceedingly generous, I think. But you see, my future wife is worth it.” He released Barnley with a shove, turning once again to me with that lovestruck look. “She is worth every penny, and more besides.”

“As are you, my love,” I replied, reaching out a hand to him. “For who needs a good name when I have such a man by my side?”

Azriel grinned wickedly, and planted another quick kiss on the back of my hand. “A true treasure I have found myself, Mr Barnley, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, yes, indeed.” Mr Barnley was hardly interested anymore, seeking out papers, and pushing his spectacles back up his nose as he no doubt counted how much money was about to land in his grubby little hands, and just what he would do with it.

For a moment, as I gazed at my husband-to-be, my countenance softened. The way he had spoken of Barnley’s wife and child had startled me. That Azriel should even have any morals surprised me, certainly, and to hear him speak of a woman abandoned by her husband in such a way…

But I could not let him fool me. This was all a means to an end, and nothing more. Barnley’s failings, just like my own, were nothing but a tool Azriel could use against him. I knew that if Azriel saw Barnley’s poor wife destitute on the street, he’d step over her the same as he would any other person he considered beneath him.

“Very well, sign here,” Barnely said, waving a pen in our direction.

“Sign?” I asked, frowning at the paper. “No vows?”

Barnley sighed and glared at me over his spectacles. “Madam, this is not a church, and if you wished to say vows you should have considered-”

“I would choose my next words exceedingly carefully,” Azriel said, his voice low with threatening menace as he signed the paper on Barnley’s somewhat less crowded desk.

Barnley cleared his throat. “I only meant, madam, that this is a civil ceremony. A pure legality. No ceremony at all.” His eyes flickered to Azriel, rubbing his hands together like a greedy little troll. “I understand that you may be disappointed, of course, but I have no doubt that Mr Caine has a wonderful honeymoon planned for you.”

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