Or rather, his eleven thousand pounds would.
But he wouldn’t tell them that now. Either of them. His sister had said over and over that she wanted to marry for love—and marry for love she would.
Kit arrived to find St. Trinity in surprisingly good repair for such an old building. The walls and columns were freshly painted, costly leaded glass filled the windows, and votive candles flickered around the sanctuary.
A privileged church was quite obviously a lucrative business.
He stood in the back, watching a wedding in progress. Several more couples seemed to be waiting their turns. One bride was well gone with child, another quietly weeping. A third wedding party included a man who didn’t look much happier. If Kit didn’t miss his guess, the bride’s father was surreptitiously holding a pistol on the poor fellow.
The moment the current wedding concluded, Kit barged down the aisle.
The priest looked up and frowned. “You’re not next.”
“I’m not marrying at all. But my sister will be here later today, and I wish to make certain you’ll stay to perform the ceremony no matter how late she arrives.”
The man shook his balding head. “I’ve too many weddings this day already. She’ll have to come tomorrow. Or try St. James instead.”
Ellen and her groom weren’t going to St. James—they were coming here. “What is your customary charge?” Kit asked flatly.
The plump clergyman sized him up. “Six crowns.”
Gasps from behind told Kit the quote was high, perhaps by double or more. “I’ll pay you ten,” he told the man. “And half of that now.” He fished his pouch from his surcoat and began counting out coins. “I’ll expect her to be wed the moment she appears.”
“By all means, good sir,” the priest said, licking his fleshy lips. When he took the gold and hefted its weight in a hand, a wide smile emerged, revealing large, uneven teeth. “Bring two witnesses, and—since you seem to value speed—a pistol,” he added with a wink.
Despite himself, Kit laughed. “We’ve no need of a pistol—I’m the only party reluctant to this match.”
Hours later, Kit was waiting on the church’s steps when the Ashcrofts’ carriage pulled up. His sister stepped to the cobblestones, followed by Rose, who was carrying a bunch of flowers. He wasn’t surprised when Lady Trentingham emerged next, although he hadn’t expressly invited her.
Finally, Whittingham stepped down, dressed in a green wool suit that was ten or more years out of fashion. His brown hair was tied back in a neat queue. Somehow he managed to look both pleased and scared spitless.
Kit was happy to see that. Perhaps the fellow really did care.
Ellen marched up the steps and dragged Kit inside the church. Her gaze swept the sanctuary before swinging to fasten on him. “What on earth have you planned here?” she whispered fiercely.
“What a blushing bride you make,” he said, arching one brow. She’d changed into what had to be another borrowed garment, a confection of pale green satin with silver embroidery. It wouldn’t suit Rose’s high coloring at all, but looked perfect on his sister. The hue brought out the green in her eyes—or maybe they looked green because she was angry.
Well, she was about to get angrier.
“I’m going to ask Whittingham if he’ll take you without your dowry,” he informed her in an even tone. “And if he hesitates as much as a moment—one moment, Ellen—the wedding is off.”
“That’s so unfair!” she burst out.
Heads turned. “Hush!” he cautioned.
She moderated her voice, but not her demeanor. “You gave us your blessing.”
“With a condition. Should Whittingham love you, I wish you the best. But if not…well, I’d rather suffer your wrath than see you bound to a man only interested in your money.”
She crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes, and shut her mouth decisively. Remembering her words when he’d talked of withholding her dowry—I will never speak to you again—he figured she was following through on her threat.
That wouldn’t last. A married woman was no longer a child, and couldn’t afford to act like one.
“I’ve paid good money to see you wed quickly.” He put a hand on her arm, then frowned when she shoved it off. “Let’s adjourn outside and see this thing through.”
THIRTY-NINE
ROSE WATCHED brother and sister emerge from St. Trinity, Kit looking determined, Ellen furious. She wondered what had been said during their short time inside.
Thomas stepped forward. “Ellen has informed me you’re putting a condition on our marriage,” he said, looking directly at Kit.
He was a direct sort of person. Rose had come to know him a little better on the ride from the town house to the church, and she believed he would make a good husband for her friend.
If only Kit would allow it.
“That’s true,” Kit said. “You must be willing to take my sister without her dowry.”
Rose suspected Kit’s aim was to test the groom’s devotion, but Ellen released an angry huff. Yet Thomas, bless him, didn’t so much as blink. “I would take your sister if she came with a mound of debt. Ellen’s dowry would be welcome—I won’t lie—but I don’t want your sister for money, sir. I want her because I love her.”
It was such a pretty speech, Rose wanted to applaud.
But Kit just nodded, somehow contriving to appear pleased, relieved, disappointed, and resigned all at once. “Come along, then. Let’s get this done.”
Ellen let out a little squeal, then ran to Thomas and threw her arms around him.
“After the wedding,” Kit said, but not without a hint of good humor.
Regardless, Ellen chose to glare at him.
“Good luck, Ellen.” Rose handed her the bouquet of flowers she’d arranged while they were waiting for Thomas. It wouldn’t feel like a real wedding without flowers.
Though the bride smiled, she looked apprehensive until Thomas had drawn her down the aisle to stand before the priest. Then she took his hand and released a heartfelt sigh.
Some other people began to
