She tortured him with another long moment of pensive silence, then finally eased his mind with the slightest inclination of her head. “I think that would be very nice, Sir Nash. I will dine with you.”
“And would you do one thing more for me?”
She arched a brow, daring him to ask.
“Would you please call me Nash?”
“Yes—but that is the last request I will grant you for now.” She leaned toward him, a thrilling wickedness in her smile. “Nash.”
The way his name rolled off her tongue made him pull in a sharp intake of air. What he wouldn’t give to hear her cry out his name while she lay beneath him sprawled across his pillows. His body agreed, hardening immediately. He offered her a gracious bow. “Thank you, Lady Sophie.”
“Sophie,” she corrected him as she poured them both another brandy. She handed him his glass, then lifted hers in a toast. “To prosperous alliances.”
He touched his glass to hers. “To prosperous alliances.”
“By the way, my dear friend Celia”—she interrupted herself with a shake of her head—“the Duchess of Hasterton has offered to be our witness and also volunteered her husband for the post as well.” She cringed and stared down into her glass. “I wonder how long it will take for the special license to be delivered to us.”
“With the queen behind it, I am surprised we have not already received it.” He set his glass down on the table and offered her his arm. “Shall we return to your workroom and have another look at those letters?”
To his delight, she accepted his offer and allowed him to escort her into the hallway. But then she slowly shook her head. “I doubt you will find anything. I promise, I have studied those insufferable things backward and forward and still have made no headway regarding who wrote them or their origin. All I know is that they each required the same amount of postage one would pay for a letter coming from fifty miles away in any direction. Whoever this is, they are very cunning.”
“Did the same post office collect each letter? Do they all bear the same inked stamp?”
“No. A different post office processed each of them.”
“Quite cunning, indeed.”
Thornton met them at the bottom of the stairs with a silver tray bearing a single large envelope. “The royal seal, my lady,” he said in an ominous whisper.
She stepped back as if the parcel held a poisonous viper. “You open it,” she told Nash. “Although I am quite certain we both know what’s inside.”
“Yes. I am sure it’s the special license.” He opened the envelope and removed the contents. “It is, and a letter from Her Majesty.”
Sophie groaned and dismissed Thornton with a nod. “Now what does Her Royal Highness command?”
Nash squinted at the page. The flowery writing of the queen’s secretary was not the easiest to decipher. He snorted out a deep huff before catching himself and stopping it. Her Majesty left nothing to chance. “Queen Charlotte has graciously invited us to have the ceremony at Kew, so she might enjoy it in the comfort of her own surroundings and help us celebrate our union.”
“In my eye,” Sophie growled. “She wants the marriage there to make sure we go through with it.”
He offered her a sympathetic nod. “I believe you have the right of it there.” He tapped the gilded edge of the parchment. “And tomorrow is the date she has chosen.”
“Tomorrow?”
The panic in her tone was disappointing, yet understandable. As a military man and then a knight, he might not initially like the orders he was given, but he had learned long ago to accept them, make the best of them, and move on. While he had not planned on marrying anytime soon, now that he found himself royally betrothed to this fiery beauty, he was ready to see it done. In fact, he rather looked forward to it.
“Tomorrow.” He tapped on the letter again. “With the queen and her daughters, Princess Augusta and Princess Sophie, as our witnesses.”
“And Maman, of course.”
“I am sure that goes without saying. Shall we find her and let her know? She was in the parlor before I came up to speak with you.” He folded the papers, slid them back inside the envelope, and tucked it inside his waistcoat.
With her scowl locked on something off in the distance, Sophie worked her fingers as though trying to make her knuckles crackle once more.
“Sophie.” He reached out and gently touched her arm. “We cannot avoid this, but everything will be all right. I will make it so.”
She turned her scowl on him, then dropped her hands to her sides. “Do not make promises about things you have no power over. I am not one of those ridiculous women who think every word that falls from a man’s lips is as reliable as pure gold.”
He caught hold of her hand and kissed it. “Then let me reword my statement so I am quite clear. I shall do everything in my power to make our future together not only bearable but also pleasant.” Still holding her hand, he stroked his thumbacross the silkiness of her fingers that were tightly grasping his. “I swear my vow is as reliable as pure gold.”
