Page 19 of Temptress in Disguise
“Think of this as a mere business transaction,” she said as they passed through the vestibule. “With or without my inheritance, I’m quite capable of making my own way in the world.” Still, she owed it to her father to see justice served. “I shall be no trouble. You’ll barely know I exist.”
“Only a fool would fail to notice you.” He cast her a sidelong glance. “I was anticipating my elder brother’s reaction when he discovers I’m married. Be thankful it’s one fight you won’t have to witness.”
She sensed his inner torment. In the absence of parents, one could not help but feel compelled to please an older sibling. “I’m sure he will understand your reasons. If not, ask him to spend five minutes in a carriage with Mrs Wendon. That should warm him to your cause.”
Mr Chance’s dark eyes glowed with amusement. “You have a talent few women possess, Miss Grant. You can lift a man’s sullen mood with a few choice words.”
“I merely allude to the truth, sir.”
He looked at her like she had sprouted fairy wings and arrived from an otherworldly plain. “Once we’re wed, you will call me Aramis. Regardless of the vows we make here, I shall forever be your protector.”
The promise tugged at her heart. When a woman found herself alone, it was good to have someone she could depend upon. “As my husband, you may call me Naomi. Regardless of the vows we make here, I shall forever be a shoulder of support.”
Who knew what would happen once they’d brought the villains to justice? Perhaps they might become friends, picnic in the park and dine together on Sundays. Hopefully, they would not despise one another as her father had Melissa.
The Reverend Smollett beckoned them past the rows of deserted pews. “Let us waste no more time.”
Though the chill of trepidation rippled over Naomi’s shoulders, she navigated the aisle, clutching her tatty bag, not a pretty posy. She stopped before the altar and faced the enigmatic Mr Chance. “It’s not too late to run,” she teased.
He gave a look of stoic resignation. “I believe I’ll stay.”
“May I have your donation?” The reverend offered his open bible.
“Yes. Just a moment. I shall find the thirty pounds.”
She crouched and rummaged in her carpet bag, but Mr Chance cupped her elbow and drew her slowly to her feet. “Allow me to settle the bill.”
He bombarded the reverend with questions and demanded to see the licence. “Should anyone have cause to doubt this marriage, I shall hold you both accountable.”
Mr Sloane offered every reassurance. “Upon repeating the vows, you will be legally wed. You have my word.”
Mr Chance produced the banknotes, which he agreed to sign along with the register. “I’ll bring the devil’s wrath down on both of you if you’re wrong.”
The reverend shrugged into his white surplice and slid the notes into the pages of his bible. “Let us begin.” He spoke in the lofty voice one would use to address a packed congregation.
Naomi glanced at the empty pews, the echo of loneliness like tight fingers gripping her throat. This wasn’t how she’d pictured her wedding day. There were no beaming faces, no people who cared.
“Will your family be annoyed they missed your wedding?”
Mr Chance sighed. “Under normal circumstances, yes.”
“But not when you’re marrying the woman who kidnapped you?”
“No. The news will be as welcome as a storm of fire and brimstone.”
“I’d rather suffer a storm than deathly silence.” She struggled to keep the sadness from her voice. “Though, I’d like to think my mother is watching from heaven, wishing me well.”
He swallowed hard. “Perhaps my mother is watching, too.”
Desperate to begin, the reverend said, “Dearly beloved?—”
“Wait!” Mr Chance drew the proceedings to an abrupt halt. “I need a few minutes.” He touched her upper arm lightly. “Remain here, Miss Grant. I shall return shortly.”
He marched along the aisle, the clip of his shoes like the drum of a death knell. Was London his destination? Had talk of fire and brimstone made him fear lying before God? Had he suddenly realised the value of bachelorhood?
He wouldn’t get far without his coachman, and Godby sat in the pew like a stuffed bear, not the least perturbed.
They waited in silence.
