Chapter Twenty-Three
Kitty’s ears buzzed, and she barely managed to restrain the urge to slap her hand against her head and clear that odd ringing sound. She blinked and took a breath. “I could have sworn you saidwife.”
He gave her a stern look. “I did. I used the word wife in connection with you. With us. As in you will be my wife.”
The scent of the bluebells hit her nose and for a moment it made her dizzy. “Ah.” She swallowed. “So this is where we get married? To each other?”
“Yes.”
“With Grace and Sir Peregrine as witnesses, I assume?”
“Yes.”
“And this is all because you can’t take a mistress to a ball where the Prince Regent is present.”
“Not this ball, no.”
“I see.” She shot a glance at Grace, who was smiling and nodding at her. Sir Peregrine raised his rather natty hat.
“Good. So shall we?” Max gestured toward the Vicar, who was patiently waiting for them to conclude their discussion. “Is everything in order, sir?”
“Indeed, Mr. Seton-Mowbray. The Bishop has authorized a special license, and since both you and Miss Ridlington are of age, I see no barriers to your happy union this morning.”
Kitty wondered if there was somewhere she could quietly vomit and then return to where she was standing. She was experiencing a sensation that was probably similar to seasickness, a feeling of lightheaded nausea.
She gulped down the worst of it. “I’m not quite sure what to say…”
Max took her hand in his. “Say yes. Let’s carry on with our investigations as husband and wife. It will make things so much easier. For both of us.”
“Are you asking, or telling?” Kitty knew her hand was cold and clammy, rather like the rest of her.
“I’m asking, of course,” smiled Max. “But I’m encouraging you to say yes. Right now. This minute. Everything else can be worked out later.”
She looked over at Grace once more, and got an approving nod in return. For some reason it calmed her nerves. She hadn’t regarded Max’s sister as a mindless nincompoop, although this whole morning might well have been conceived by one. So if Grace was in favor of this marriage, it couldn’t be too terrible a thing.
“Mistress to wife, Kitty. That would be a huge slap in the faces of every old biddy who has condemned the outrageous Miss Ridlington.” Max murmured the words.
“Yes, but I haven’t really had chance to be outrageous yet, have I? And as your wife…”
“You may be as outrageous as you please.” He grinned and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “And especially with me. I like outrageous, as you know.”
She blushed. “Well…”
“Good. It’s settled.” Max dragged her up the last step to face Vicar Granmont. “We may begin, now, sir, if you please.”
And so, with minimum fuss and bother, and an abbreviated service lacking such things as hymns and sermons, Kitty Ridlington became Kitty Seton-Mowbray, right down to a small gold ring on the third finger of her left hand. There was even a brief meeting of lips at the conclusion of the service, but it all seemed more like a dream to the woman pledging to love, honor and obey a man she suddenly felt she barely knew.
It wasn’t until they were joined in the vestry by Grace and Sir Peregrine, that reality caught up with the new bride.
“Oh God.” Her hand shook as she was given the quill to sign the marriage lines. “What have I done? OhGod…”
“Hush, sweetheart.” Max was there, sliding his arm around his waist. “I should not like my wife to faint within minutes of becoming mine.” He added a squeeze on the last word.
Mine.
In spite of her apprehension and the shocks of the morning, Kitty couldn’t miss the implications. She sighed and allowed herself to lean against her new husband. It comforted her and she found the earth no longer swayed beneath her feet.
Then Grace hurried up to her side. “Kitty, my love. I couldn’t be happier to have you for a sister.”
