“That’s true.” Jonathan hesitated. “I suppose I could rouse him from his bed…”
“But you think it too great an imposition?” Claire guessed.
Jonathan grimaced. “The notion does rankle me,” he had to admit. “Though knowing young Wilson, he won’t object if the reward is handsome.”
Griffin touched his wife’s hand. “Is it worth all this trouble, my love? Whether they marry tomorrow or next week, what’s the difference?”
Rachael drew herself up. “Not—a—single—day!” she repeated emphatically, glaring at her husband. “Now accompany me upstairs, for I need to be sick.”
With dignified haste she withdrew, Griffin following in her wake.
Jonathan raised his brows at Claire. “Do you suppose Noah was right?”
She lifted her chin. “I’d say we both were. But don’t tell him yet, if you please. He’ll be insufferable.”
“As you wish.”
She fluttered her lashes. “If you mean it, I have one more wish: Would you be a dear and humor my sister by sending for the license?”
“I will. Though I hope you won’t raise your hopes too much, in case there’s some delay.”
“La,” she said with a playful nudge, “if we have to postpone, it won’t be the first time.”
Though he knew she spoke in jest, her words still touched a nerve. Did some small part of her still harbor doubts?
The thought of disappointing her again made Jonathan grind his teeth. He drained the last of his eggnog, plonked down the mug, and resolved to do everything in his power to see this wedding through.
“I’ll bid you good night,” he said loudly, taking Claire’s hands. Then in a lower tone laced with meaning: “For now.”
“For now,” she agreed, a glint of promise in her eyes. “You’re off to rouse young Wilson?”
Jonathan nodded. “Oh, we almost forgot about the ring! I must send along a note to authorize my butler’s opening the lockbox. That’s easily done, at any rate.” He brushed a kiss over her knuckles before turning to go. “Sweet dreams, my love,” he raised his voice to add.
“Jonathan,” she called after him, “about the ring…”
He looked back to her. “Yes?”
“I—” She glanced away, twisting a pearl ring on her finger. “Well, you know how very particular I am about jewelry, being as I am a jeweler, and all.”
He crossed his arms. “I do.”
“And I adore your grandmother’s ring! It’s lovely, and the family association is so special.”
“I’m glad.” He waited.
She bit her lip. “It’s just that—um, the diamonds are a…an old-fashioned rose cut—a-and the design—it’s not quite got the—um?—”
“You hate it.”
“Yes, I hate it!” She hid her face in her hands. “How dreadful am I? I’m sure it looked wonderful on your grandmother, but it’s just not at all suited to my taste?—”
“Oh!” Jonathan interrupted with a sudden realization. “Was this the ‘crusty old ring’ you wrote of in your diary?”
She winced. “I’m so sorry! I was in a towering rage when I wrote that—but, well, the setting is really not?—”
“Claire, stop.” Laughing heartily, he tugged on her wrists. “It’s all right. I don’t care what ring you wear, as long as you love wearing it. If you’d rather wear a new ring you’ve made, I haven’t the slightest objection.”
His hands still around her wrists, he felt her relax. “Really?”
