Penny trailed behind her to the carriage, marveling that her absentminded cousin could organize when she chose.
At the little church on South Audley the two men waited. Andrew held a posy of cream roses in one hand. His coat of deep blue contrasted nicely with his fawn trousers. He had somewhat the appearance of one who has been struck by unexpected good fortune and is not sure what to do with it.
His man had been at the church to smooth their path. All was in readiness.
Penny had eyes only for Jonathan, also attired in a dark blue coat, with biscuit trousers that strapped over his shoes and showed off a trim pair of legs. Dragging her gaze from him, she resolutely watched Letty and Andrew as they approached the front of the church.
Letty showed no signs of nervousness in the least.
“Dearly beloved,” the curate began in a richly impressive voice, “we are gathered together in the sight of God . .
Penny listened and considered the portion of the ceremony that said that marriage was to bring mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. It was a noble sentiment, if possible. She darted a glance at Jonathan. How would she feel to actually be exchanging these vows with him? At one time she had thought it an expedient thing. Now she wondered if she would so willingly accept that marriage of convenience. At least, to him.
The curate exhorted Letty and Andrew to love each other as they cared for themselves. Love, not financial arrangements, nor expediency. She simply could not bind Jonathan to anything so permanent as marriage unless there was love, that was clear. To do otherwise would be a sin.
Letty’s “I will” rang out in a defiant voice that Penny found endearing. The bridal couple signed the register, followed by Penny, Jonathan, and the curate, and the wedding was over.
After the ceremony, the four returned to the house on Upper Brook Street, where all was in readiness for a light meal. If the staff looked breathless and harried, it was not to be wondered. While the bridal party had a lovely nuncheon (Penny suspected it was deliberately drawn out), the carnage was loaded, and then the staff, along with Jonathan and Penny, waved them off.
Penny wandered up alone to her bedroom. She supposed that Mrs. Flint had collapsed somewhere below.
Jonathan took himself off to see if he could find out more about Lanscomb, suspecting now was not the moment to press Penny about a wedding. She had seemed adorably confused and bewildered this morning. He hoped he hadn’t made a mistake in waiting. Miss Nilsson could hold matters in hand. At least for a brief time, and by then he hoped to have Penny as wife.
* * * *
When at one of the clock Penny presented herself alone at Harford House, Lady Harford took the news well.
“I daresay you were wishing you might do the same,” she said archly after patting the sofa at her side to be certain that Penny would sit close to her.
Penny perched gingerly on the striped satin sofa, drawing off her gloves, then toying with the reticule in her lap.
“Ma’am, that would be folly, would it not? Do you not recall that this betrothal is temporary, until my aunt takes herself away from London?” Penny fiddled with the handkerchief she had tugged from her reticule. Her pretty blue leather slipper absently traced a line of the pattern of the Aubusson carpet beneath her feet.
‘What if she stays here until Lord Lanscomb arrives in Town?” Lady Harford inquired with a curious inflection to her voice.
“I daresay I shall contrive a way to cope with the problem. Perhaps I shall take a ship to foreign parts, where he cannot reach me?” Penny gave a lopsided grin at the lady she had come to admire. “Never fear that I shall trap your fine son into a marriage he does not wish,” she concluded earnestly.
“You are convinced he has no desire to wed with you?” Lady Harford gave an impatient sigh. Really, these children were so silly. Why Jonathan didn’t whisk Penny off to a curate was foolishness. Did he actually feel it so important that she trust in him to this degree? Absurdity.
They visited awhile, discussed what Jonathan hoped to accomplish, then turned to the agreeable subject of Charis and David’s wedding to come.
Lady Charis danced into the morning room, her face aglow with happiness. “Say you will come along with us when we shop for bride clothes. I vow, there is so much to purchase and order, I scarce know where to begin.”
“Begin at the beginning,” advised Penny sagely, with a twinkle in her eyes.
“Shifts, stays, and stockings, of course,” Charis said with a bemused nod. “Then petticoats, gowns, bonnets, and slippers in that order. Last of all a new supply of gloves and reticules to match my gowns and pelisses. I should like to buy a fur tippet for next winter, I think, Mama.”
Penny began to worry about the bills. How on earth would Jonathan begin to pay for all the pretty things Charis intended to obtain, with her mother’s blessing, it seemed?
Yet she knew it was unthinkable that a young woman who is to marry the heir to a duke not be properly fitted out. As a marchioness, she would hold an elevated place in Society. Charis and David were both people who charmed, and would draw their own group about them.
“How fortunate you have time to prepare.” Penny shared a cautious glance with Lady Harford, then continued, “Letty and Andrew were married
