Brown, he thought.
Not the pale insipid brown of weak tea, but rich and deep, like polished wood. Like earth after rain.
It would enhance them.
It would mark her.
A duchess.
A wife.
James closed the box carefully, then reopened it just enough to place the necklace in its own smaller case.
Roderick watched him, smile faint. “You are thinking about her again.”
James shut the lid with finality. “No.”
Roderick’s grin widened. “Liar.”
James tucked the case under his arm. “We return to town.”
“And the ground rules?” Roderick asked, mounting his horse as they left the house behind. “When will you deliver them to your bride?”
James’s gaze fixed forward, the road stretching ahead like a promise.
“Soon,” he said.
And as Blackmere vanished behind them into the night, James found himself thinking not of rules, or licenses, or investigations.
But of Eleanor Barker standing on her father’s doorstep, voice steady, daring him to test her. And how, for reasons he refused to name, he was already tempted to do exactly that.
CHAPTER 7
James arrived at All Saints’ Parish Chapel with fifteen minutes to spare.
Not a moment more.
The chapel stood quiet beneath a pale winter sky, its stone worn smooth by centuries of obedience and confession. Bells did not ring yet. They would not until he gave the signal. James exited the carriage, and adjusted his cuffs with practiced economy.
Punctuality mattered.
As he crossed the churchyard, the heavy wooden doors stood ajar. Voices carried.
Female voices.
James slowed – not from hesitation, but calculation.
“…one would think,” Charlotte was saying softly, her tone honeyed and precise, “that a duchess might make more of an effort on her wedding day.”
James stopped just short of the doorway.
Eleanor’s voice followed, quieter. “I am making an effort.”
Charlotte gave a small, delicate laugh. “Ifthisis effort, I would loathe to see indifference. Truly, Eleanor, that fabric is barely suitable for morning calls, much less a ceremony that will be whispered about for decades.”
James stepped inside.
The sound of his boots against stone echoed louder than he intended. Charlotte turned sharply, her expression smoothing into practiced surprise.
