Isobel let out a laugh. “I can imagine. She is useful in mollifying Frenchmen.”
He snapped open the box, plucked out the jewelry, and pitched the empty box into a plant.
“Take off your glove,” he ordered.
Isobel peeled off the moss-green leather.
“Should we do this properly?” he asked, dropping to one knee. Isobel laughed. They were nearly alone in the hall. Only the occasional servant, distracted with the duties of the ball, hurried along the wall.
“You’ve been a stickler for propriety from the beginning,” he said, looking up, reaching for her hand.
A second too late, he swiped his hat from his head and placed it over his heart. His hair was deliciously rumpled and she reached out to smooth it.
“Oh yes,” she said. “A paragon, that’s me.”
“Isobel Tinker,” he continued, “will you make my lifecomplete—after much,muchexcruciating delay—by becoming my duchess?” He slid the beautiful, glittering ring on her finger.
Isobel nodded, her voice too choked to speak.
“Brilliant,” said Jason, vaulting up. “Let us hope the priest is still available.”
Chapter Thirty
Percival Toombs had been the parish priest of the Syon Hall vicarage for as long as Jason could remember. A kindly old man, considered a member of the family by his mother, Toombs was delighted at the prospect of marrying a Northumberland duke, rather than burying one. Jason had called on him earlier in the day to make the special request.
Toombs had shown less delight in thetimingof the proposed matrimony, which Jason wanted to commence that very night. During the ball. Down the corridor from the dancing. Not only was this irregular, the vicar suggested that the duke’s urgency might come off as a little... irreverent. And indecorous.
Jason did not care. He felt as if a blade had been yanked from his ribs. The pain was gone and he could look to the future with anticipation and not dread.
He would not be saddled with managing the dukedom alone.
His sister seemed truly relieved and happy.
Best of all, Isobel had come to him. And now that she was here, he would not let her go.
He told the priest the wedding time would be “cannot say for sure,” and named the location as “I’ll findyou.” The lack of a plan so distressed the priest that Jason promisedanotherball in the near future to properly celebrate the nuptials. Eventually Toombs relented, reviewing the special license and agreeing to make himself available. He clearly doubted the probability of an extemporaneous wedding but the old man never missed a party at Syon Hall and promised to bring his prayer book, just in case.
Now Jason stalked the ballroom, Isobel on his arm, searching for Reverend Toombs.
“But will you silence the orchestra,” ventured Isobel, “to announce the betrothal? Or may we simply gather a small circle of family?”
“I’m less concerned about the announcement,” Jason clipped, “and more about thedeed.”
Where was Percival Toombs?Jason began a wide circuit of the drinks carts.
“Deed?” she asked.
“The ceremony,” he said, dodging a trio of giggling debutantes.
“Jason, I don’t understand?”
“The wedding,” he sighed. He spotted Percival’s bald head bent over a tray of prawns.Finally. Thank God.
Isobel stopped walking, and he was yanked back.Damn! So close.
“Jason,” Isobel whispered. “You cannot mean to conduct a wedding tonight. Here? In the middle of your sisters’ ball?”
“That is precisely what I intend,” he said. “Why not?”
