CHAPTER 17 #3
"It's testimony that I'm happy to make public if you continue this harassment," Edmund said. "Imagine what the ton would say. Lord Pemberton, unable to seduce his governess, following her across the county to prevent her marriage to a duke. It has all the makings of a spectacular scandal."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Try me," Edmund said pleasantly. "I have very little to lose and find the prospect of your social destruction enormously entertaining."
"Enough," Lady Agatha said sharply. "Lord Pemberton, perhaps you should leave."
"But you said…"
"I said nothing that suggested you should use my nephew's betrothal as an opportunity to pursue your petty vengeances. Leave. Now."
Pemberton looked between them all, his face contorting with rage, before storming out, slamming the door behind him.
"Well," Gabriel said mildly. "That's one problem solved. Shall we address the bishop's concerns about our spiritual compatibility, or would you prefer to have your solicitor explain why I'm too insane to wed the woman I love?"
"“This is no circumstance for levity, Gabriel," Lady Agatha said.
"No, it's a farce. You've brought a bishop and a solicitor to intimidate us into breaking our betrothal, but you've failed to understand the most important point."
"Which is?"
"We're already bound in every way that matters. Legally, I've already had settlements drawn up. Spiritually, we've loved each other since childhood. And physically... well, I believe the entire household can attest to that particular bond."
The bishop made a choking sound. "Are you saying you've already... consummated this relationship?"
“With utmost ardour,” Gabriel confirmed. “Upon many occasions. With a striking ingenuity, if I may be so bold as to observe.”
"Gabriel!" Clara protested, though she was fighting laughter at the bishop's expression.
"What? He asked. I'm simply being thorough in my response."
"This is highly inappropriate," the bishop managed.
"So is attempting to prevent two people who love each other from entering into matrimony," Gabriel countered. "Which is the greater sin, Your Eminence? Love expressed physically between betrothed partners, or the attempt to destroy that love for social convenience?"
The bishop opened his mouth, closed it, and looked desperately at Lady Agatha.
"The Church's position on…"
"The Church's position is that matrimony is sacred," Clara said quietly, finding her voice.
"That it should be entered into with full commitment and honest hearts.
Gabriel and I have both. Can you say the same about the matrimonies you've blessed between strangers for dynastic purposes?
How many loveless unions have you sanctified because the bloodlines were appropriate? "
“That is quite distinct…”
"It's exactly the same, except we actually love each other.
"This is still highly irregular," the solicitor attempted.
"Irregular is not illegal," Gabriel said. "Unless you have actual grounds to prevent this matrimony, I suggest you take your documents and return to whatever rock you crawled out from under."
"Gabriel," Lady Agatha's voice was tired now. "You're making a terrible mistake."
"The only mistake I've made was waiting this long to propose."
"She's nobody...”
"She's everything," Gabriel interrupted. "And if you can't see that, then you're blinder than I thought."
"I see a fortune hunter who's manipulated…"
"You see what you want to see because accepting the truth would mean admitting you're wrong, and Hales never admit they're wrong, do they?"
"We admit when we've been deceived."
"Then admit it now. Admit that you were wrong about Clara, wrong about what I need, wrong about everything except your own prejudices."
Lady Agatha drew herself up to her full height. "If you wed this woman, you'll be cut off from the family."
"What family? You're the only one left, and frankly, It is but a mere trifle.”
"You'll be socially ruined."
"I was already socially ruined. At least now I'll have company."
"You'll regret this."
"The only thing I regret is the eight years I wasted listening to people such as yourself instead of following my heart."
They stared at each other, aunt and nephew, locked in a battle of wills that had been building for years.
Finally, Lady Agatha turned to the bishop and solicitor. "We're leaving."
"But the impediments…" the solicitor started.
"There are no impediments except my nephew's stubbornness and his refusal to see reason."
“Do you mean to say you abandon the pursuit?" Gabriel asked, suspicious.
"I'm acknowledging temporary defeat. This isn't over, Gabriel. When this infatuation burns out and you're left with the ashes of your reputation, I shall not receive your lamentations on the matter.”
"I won't come to you for anything ever again."
"We'll see."
She swept out, the bishop and solicitor trailing behind her like confused puppies. The room fell silent except for the sound of the fire crackling.
"Well," Edmund said cheerfully. "That went better than expected. No one got physically assaulted, nothing was thrown, and the bishop didn't actually attempt an exorcism."
"The day is young," Gabriel muttered.
Clara sank into the nearest chair, suddenly exhausted. "Is it always going to be like this? Battles and confrontations and people trying to tear us apart?"
Gabriel knelt beside her chair, taking her hands. "No. Because once we're wedded, it won't matter what anyone says or does. We'll be legally, spiritually, and physically bound in ways that no amount of purple silk and episcopal disapproval can undo."
"Three weeks," Clara said softly.
"Three weeks," Gabriel agreed. "Think you can survive three more weeks of this?"
"With you? I could survive anything."
"Even the staff's knowing looks and inappropriate wagers?"
"Even that. Though we might want to be quieter tonight."
"Tonight?" Gabriel's eyes lit up. "You're planning on a tonight?"
"Gabriel, we're betrothed and we have already thoroughly compromised each other. The horse hasn't just left the stable, it's galloping across the countryside."
Edmund cleared his throat. "Still here, still listening, still scarred by your complete lack of discretion."
"Then leave," Gabriel suggested. "Clara and I have wedding plans to discuss."
"Is that what we're calling it now?"
"Among other things."
Edmund headed for the door, pausing to look back. “I must implore you to observe greater quiet this evening, as some of us require our proper rest.”
“Some would do well to confine their interests to their own concerns. Gabriel countered.
"Your business becomes everyone's business when conducted at volume."
“We shall observe the required quiet.”
After Edmund left, Clara looked at Gabriel. "We're not going to be quiet, are we?"
"Not even slightly."
"The staff will talk."
"Let them. In three weeks, you'll be the Duchess of Ashbourne, and they can talk about whatever they like as long as they do it respectfully."
"Duchess," Clara repeated, the word feeling foreign on her tongue. "That's terrifying."
"That's perfect. You'll be a perfect duchess."
"I don't know anything about being a duchess."
"You know how to manage me, which is the most important qualification."
"That's not a qualification, that's a survival skill."
“The distinction is of no consequence here.”
He pulled her to her feet, drawing her into his arms. "Three weeks, Clara. Then you're mine forever."
"I'm already yours forever."
"Yes, but in three weeks it will be rendered formal.”
He kissed her then, deep and thorough, and Clara thought that three weeks might actually be too long to wait.
But they'd manage.
Probably.
Assuming Lady Agatha didn't return with an army.
Which, given her determination, was entirely possible.
But that was tomorrow's problem. Today, they were betrothed in love, and had successfully routed the first wave of opposition.
And tonight...
Tonight, they'd definitely not be quiet.
Poor Edmund. Poor staff. Poor everyone within hearing distance.
But Clara couldn't bring herself to care.
She was going to be a duchess. A scandalous, inappropriate, completely unqualified duchess.