Chapter Six
Mr. Mosley, Dev’s solicitor, was horrified when he learned that his client planned to elope. However, he begrudgingly helped draft a relatively short, simple contract that would protect Miss Halliwell’s small fortune and spell out how much pin money she would receive.
“It is impossible to cover every contingency when you have given me no time to draft a contract,” Mr. Mosley grumbled. “There really ought to be more explicit details about the inheritances left to younger children. If you would only wait a week—”
“I cannot wait a week,” Dev reminded him. “This will do.”
Mr. Mosley sniffed, but he kept further complaints to himself as he wrote out a fair copy for the betrothed couple to sign.
The butler and the housekeeper witnessed the signing of the document.
Pomeroy, the butler, raised his eyebrows when he learned Dev was marrying their overnight guest, but he did not say a word against it.
The next morning, Dev and his affianced bride set out on their journey. The railway brought them to Newcastle before luncheon. From there, they rented a post-chaise. Dev paid for a team of four horses rather than the usual pair, though the price made him wince.
Fortune favored them with clear roads and good weather. On Saturday afternoon, they reached the toll house in Lamberton. By then, Dev was too exhausted to feel anything but relief that they’d reached their goal.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said. Miss Halliwell flinched. Damn! “My apologies. I ought to have worded that differently. We have reached the toll house. Are you ready to seal our bargain? Or have you thought better of it?”
What was he going to do if she changed her mind?
She shook her head and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We have come so far,” she said, sounding every bit as weary as Dev felt. “We might as well go through with it.”
Dev released a relieved sigh. “My sentiments exactly.”
Miss Halliwell slipped off to the privy while Dev spoke to the toll-keeper on duty.
The toll-keeper had been enjoying a cup of tea and bite of bread, but he put down his cup, wiped his hands, and went to fetch his partner to witness the ceremony.
One of the postilions stepped inside to serve as the second witness, while the other remained with the horses.
When Miss Halliwell returned, she scanned the room with wide eyes. While the toll-keeper tested his pen, she leaned closer to Dev and murmured, “This feels like a dream.”
It did, rather. He hoped it did not become a nightmare.
Compared to Dev’s first wedding, the ceremony seemed absurdly short. There were no lengthy congregational prayers, no sermon, no Bible readings. Just a quick verification of their names, home parishes, and marital statuses, followed by an abbreviated exchange of vows.
Then came the giving of the ring. It wasn’t the elegant pearl ring Elisabeth had worn; that lay buried with her at Highgate. Dev gave his second wife a delicate golden ring, ornamented only by a trail of flowers, that had belonged to his mother.
The ring fit perfectly. Surely that was a good omen?
Dev wanted this new marriage to succeed.
His first marriage had been full of drama, recriminations, and guilt.
Was it too much to hope that he might find at least a little peace in his second marriage?
He did not ask for true love or blissful happiness. Comfort and courtesy would be enough.
“I now pronounce ye man and wife,” the toll-keeper concluded. “You must sign the register.” He gestured at the book and pen waiting on the table behind him.
Dev signed his name with his usual messy scrawl. His new wife wrote her maiden name in a neat script. Even her writing looked prim, proper, and governess-like, he thought, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
The witnesses signed, too, and the toll-keeper wrote out a copy of their marriage lines. And that was it. They were married.
“Good luck to ye,” the toll-keeper said.
“Thank you.” Dev handed over a stack of gold sovereigns, trying not to think about how much the elopement had cost him. He hoped it was worth it.