The bleary-eyed twins traveled on to St. Trinity and were elated to find it empty as well.
They slipped into a back pew to wait, resting their exhausted bodies and chatting quietly. A couple arrived with two witnesses in tow, and then another couple, the woman visibly pregnant. The two groups stood in separate clusters in the back of the sanctuary, shifting nervously on their feet as they waited for their respective ceremonies to commence.
The light grew steadily brighter, passing through the ancient leaded windows and projecting brilliant colored patches on the walls and floor of the church. At last, a door opened at the far end, and a plump curate entered. He bustled about, lighting a few tapers before turning to address the small crowd.
A satisfied smile spread on his face as he viewed the assemblage. “Now, who was here first?”
“We were, Father.” Kendra rose, tugging on Ford’s hand to pull him up after her and down the narrow aisle.
“Where are your witnesses?” the curate asked as the twins came up before him.
“But—” Ford sputtered, “but she’s my sister!”
The man’s crooked teeth disappeared as his smile reversed to a stern frown. “Young man, I realize we’re known for being, ah, tolerant here at St. Trinity, but the church expressly forbids—”
“Od’s fish!” Kendra’s laughter rang through the sanctuary. “We’re not here to be wed, Father—we’re here to find out if someone else was wed on Saturday. We hope to prevent the marriage if it hasn’t already taken place.”
“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” the clergyman asked peevishly. “Whom are you inquiring about?”
“Amy—Amethyst—Goldsmith and Robert Stanley.”
The curate’s eyes opened wider. “I declare, I cannot recall the last time there was so much interest in one wedding. Why—”
“Then they’re already married?” Kendra’s heart seemed to drop to her stomach.
“No. Not to my knowledge.” When she sagged in relief, the clergyman smiled. “I believe they were here Saturday evening, however, and yesterday a tall gentleman with dark hair—”
“Our brother,” the twins said in unison.
The stout man looked them both over thoughtfully. “Yes, he could have been. In any case, the groom in question planned to return this morning, and your brother went off to search the inns on Fenchurch Street last night.”
“Thank you so much.” Kendra handed the man a coin.
Her wide smile must have been contagious, because the curate’s uneven teeth reappeared, although his gaze was already shifting to the other couples. “Now, who was next?”
Kendra and Ford retreated to the front steps of the church, where they quickly decided Ford would wait inside in case Robert and Amy appeared, while Kendra took the carriage to fetch Jason.
She arrived at St. James to find Jason pacing outside. He strode to the carriage. “What’s news?”
“They’re not wed.” Kendra grinned. “But he plans to wed her today, at St. Trinity. Jason…”
“What?” He climbed inside and pulled the door shut.
“I’m hoping you won’t mind, but I asked Carrington to head for Fenchurch Street. The curate said Colin was searching the inns there last night. I’m thinking perhaps he grew tired and slept at one of them.” Jason began to protest, but Kendra held up a hand, rushing to finish. “Won’t you check a few of the inns, please? I cannot just sit and wait.”
“But you said Robert and Amy are due back at the church.”
“It’s still early. Besides, Ford will see to matters should they arrive.”
“There’s no arguing with you once your mind is set, is there?” Jason muttered.
For the next half hour, he obligingly walked along Fenchurch, checking a few likely places while the carriage followed at a crawl.
Kendra regretted the detour almost immediately. Waiting in the carriage, she grew more and more impatient as she watched Jason go in and out. When the carriage lurched to a halt at the seventh inn, she noticed a sign in the window of Mr. Farr’s Tobacco Shop, proclaiming it had “The Best Tobacco by Farr.” A few shops down there was another sign, that of his rival, “Far Better Tobacco than the Best Tobacco by Farr.” She smiled, but mostly she was bored and restless, wondering what was happening back at the church.
Coming out of the seventh inn, Jason stalked to the carriage, his face set in purposeful lines. The door was flung open just as he arrived.
“Kendra, this is—”
“—a waste of time. They may have turned up at St. Trinity by now. And much as I trust Ford to intervene, I’d hate to miss the resulting scene. It ought to be better than Shakespeare.”
Worn out as he was, Jason couldn’t help but smile. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“I’m your sister.” She punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Come along.”
Before climbing inside, Jason instructed his coachman to turn around at Mark Lane and head back to St. Trinity. But they’d driven less than two minutes when Kendra began banging on the roof of the carriage. “Stop! Stop!”
“What on earth—”
“That’s Ebony! There, in that shed. Colin’s here!”
She was down from the carriage before the wheels stopped turning. Jason groaned as he followed her out. “Now, Kendra, not every horse with a white star on his forehead is Ebony.”
But it was. Whickering softly as they approached, Ebony bent his big head to search Jason’s pockets for a treat.
“Colin must be in there.” Kendra indicated a dubious establishment called the Cat & Canary.
“I think not.” Jason shook his head. “Colin wouldn’t stay in a place like that, no matter how tired he was.”
“Then where?”
He pointed to the back wall of the shed. “Behind there is Leadenhall Street. And a very nice inn, if I’m not mistaken.”
SIXTY
MINUTES LATER, Kendra and Jason were knocking on the door to Number Three at the Rose & Crown. A sleepy, barefoot Colin came to answer, no shirt beneath his rumpled surcoat, his hair in disarray, and a stupid, sunny smile plastered on his face.
Needing no other
