“Had I known, Ellen, I might have been disappointed—I am disappointed—but I wouldn’t have kept you from wedding your child’s father. And I won’t. What’s done is done. I wanted more for you, but you’ve narrowed my options. Unless—”
“What?” She pulled away. “What is this condition?”
He met her gaze, hardening his heart against the tears. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He turned to Rose. “Can you send a rider to Windsor to deliver this letter to Whittingham? And an extra horse so they can both ride back. I left my carriage at Whitehall, and it’s too slow in any case.”
She looked between him and his sister. “Of course.”
“Good,” he said to her, and to Ellen, “I will see you wed today.”
Both women stared at him incredulously. Rose spoke for the two. “They cannot marry today!”
“Tonight, then. However long it takes Whittingham to show up, we’ll wait.”
“Banns must be called—it will take weeks. Either that, or Thomas will have to obtain a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury.”
“Have you never heard of a privileged church? There are two, I believe, directly outside the City walls. Places where a man and a woman can marry without posting banns, without a license. Without waiting.”
“That doesn’t sound legal,” Rose said doubtfully.
“They claim they’re outside the jurisdiction of the Bishop of London and can therefore make their own rules.” He shrugged. “The marriages stand, and that’s good enough for me. I wish I could remember at least one of their names…ah, yes. St. Trinity, in the Minories.” He turned to his sister. “I was hoping to see you wed in a cathedral, but a privileged church will have to do.”
THIRTY-NINE
FOLLOWING A BIT of wrangling, it was decided Kit would go ahead to St. Trinity and arrange matters while Rose and his sister waited for Whittingham. They would all meet Kit at the church.
It took an hour for him to reach St. Trinity—an hour during which he cursed himself ten times over for not watching more closely over his sister. For not protecting her better. For allowing her to maneuver him to the point where he had no choice.
But there was nothing left to do except make the best of it. If Whittingham could prove he truly loved Ellen, the man could have her. And Kit would make sure the two of them had a wonderful, carefree life together.
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 minute 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 go to 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 man cared, after all.
Ellen marched up the steps and dragged Kit inside the church. Her gaze swept the sanctuary before swinging to fasten on him. “What the devil have you planned here?” she whispered fiercely.
“Such language in a house of God,” he chided. She’d changed into a gown that he imagined must belong to Rose, a confection of pale green satin with silver embroidery. It didn’t suit Rose’s high coloring at all, but it 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’d have me raise this child alone?”
“Not alone. With me. Your child