Seth stepped closer, smiling. He took the page from Charlotte and, without looking, handed it back to the smith. He took Charlotte’s hands in his own.
“Your hands are frozen. First, we will marry. Then I will ensure the fire warms my wife in this fine smith’s house. And when you are warmed, we will complete our journey.”
Charlotte thought she must still be dreaming. They must still be riding through the dreary heights of Cumbria. But Seth’s hands felt warm and solid.
“No,” she said suddenly, “not yet...”
Seth looked stunned. “When? Is there not a more perfect moment?”
“There is not. You’re right; this is providence. But I will not marry you,cannotmarry you without doing something first.”
“Name it,” he said urgently.
Charlotte turned to the smith. “Master Smith, can someone in the village copy my sister’s marriage certificate? I shall need two copies.”
“Aye, my son Donald kens his letters—as do I. He’ll make the copies for ye, and I’ll witness them meself, bein’ the minister. But what d’ye want with them, if ye don’t mind me askin’?”
“Once made, can they be posted to London urgently?” Charlotte asked.
“To Mr. Monkton?” Seth interrupted, “What is the point? He will deny receiving it if it means Tewkesbury has a chance to inherit my wealth and title.”
“So, we will post the second copy to someone else,” Charlotte told him.
“Aye, I can see to all that for ye, Miss. Just give me the address where they’re to be sent,” the smith declared, already wiping his hands on his apron and reaching for the inkpot.
“The first will go to one Master Monkton, a solicitor in London. Seth, you know his address?”
“I do. And the second?” Seth asked.
“Why, the only person who can help if Mr. Monkton denies receiving the copy of Amelia’s marriage certificate... the Prince Regent.”
Charlotte felt proud of her reasoning. Seth stared at her for a long moment, uncomprehending.
“Think about it,” Charlotte said calmly. “He is a man with a string of mistresses and a wife he openly resents—a match forced on him by his father. If we were to present the clause to the Regent and show how your rightful inheritance is at risk of being stolen because of it, who do you imagine he would side with?”
Seth suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. “I think you have something there. It might just work.”
“I dinnae like this talk o’ mistresses and forced weddin’s. And I like the Prince Regent even less—an Englishman with German blood, sittin’ on Scotland’s neck,” the smith rumbled, rubbing at his chin. “But I’ll send yer missives, and I’ll wed the pair o’ ye. Aye, I insist on it. Best keep ye from gettin’ too tangled in that foreign devil’s nonsense.”
Charlotte clapped her hands, convinced she had hit upon the solution to their problem.
There is enough time for letters posted here to reach London before the marriage clause. Seth’s title is safe.
“It seems this godly man has left us no choice. Will younowconsent to be my wife?” Seth asked, a smile on his face.
The enormity of the questions struck Charlotte then. She felt dizzy and clutched Seth’s hands to steady herself. She smiled, head feeling lighter than air.
“Once… once the copies are made and the letters written,” she tried to delay.
Seth shook his head firmly. “No.Now. Letters can wait until tomorrow.”
Charlotte began to shake her head, but Seth took her face in his hands. His eyes looked into her heart. She fell still, stolen by those pupils.
Those eyes have captivated me since the first moment I saw them. The windows of the soul. And what a soul! This man is no rake, wastrel, or libertine. He is a noble and great man.
“Yes,” Charlotte whispered, “Yes… I will.”
CHAPTER 29
