Chapter Ten #2
Chance jutted his chin higher. “You made us proud tonight, Merry. He will probably never regain the sight in that eye. What did you hit him with?”
“A candelabrum that should have weighed more than it did. I fear Lady Atterley went cheap when decorating that particular parlor.”
“Well done, sister. At least you left him something to remember you by.”
“I wish I had been more effective.” She wouldn’t repeat that she wished Brixham dead, even though all in the room would agree. She feared even more bad luck would come down upon her for saying such a terrible thing out loud too many times.
Duncan rose and paced the length of the parlor like a caged animal. “I shall get a special marriage license that will make the first invalid, and then we shall marry.”
Merry’s hopes rose until she noticed her brother’s pained expression. “What, Chance? Why could that not be done?”
Chance raked his hand through his hair again and cast a frustrated glance at the parlor door. “We should have requested drinks.”
“I did,” Serendipity said. “They will be here shortly. Now, answer our sister. Why could Duncan’s solution not be accomplished?”
Rubbing the back of his neck as though it ached, Chance gave them a dubious shrug.
“The archbishop will not take kindly to a request for another special license for the same woman, and this time, so she can marry a Scot newly elected to the House of Lords.” He shrugged again and slowly shook his head.
“He could very well refuse, seeing the grounds as most irregular.”
“Go with Duncan and explain the circumstances to His Grace. Surely a man of his standing will see sense and find some shred of compassion. He is the senior bishop in the church, for heaven’s sake.” This had to work. Merry refused to let go of this possibility.
“Although pride doth goeth before a fall,” Chance said, “there is none prouder than the archbishop. At the very least, he will refuse to grant another special license until the first one has run its course of ninety days with no marriage.”
“Ninety days for Brixham to stir the gossips and dominate the Season with lurid whisperings about me.” Merry held her head, closing her eyes and trying not to think about all the tales he would tell.
And this wouldn’t just affect her. Chance and Serendipity would be just as tainted.
Even her married sisters could be affected.
“We dinna ken what the archbishop will say until we ask,” Duncan said. “I’ll not give up without even trying.”
Chance nodded. “I shall go with you and do whatever I can.”
“As will I,” Malcolm said. “I know I matter little as the second son, but I always stand beside my brother.”
*
“What will ye do if the man outright refuses another special license until the first one expires?” Malcolm sat across from Duncan in the carriage as they traveled the streets of Mayfair to pick up the Duke of Broadmere, who had managed to secure an audience with the archbishop.
Duncan stared out the window, seeing nothing but Merry’s tear-streaked face. “I dinna ken. Merry fears more for her family’s standing than her own reputation. Ninety days is a long while to stare down gossip.”
“The ton is ever shifting, brother. If she could find the strength to ignore them, the tattlers would soon weary of the mess and move on to their next victim.”
“I canna tell Merry that.” Duncan pulled in a deep breath, missing the fresh, clean air of Scotland. “Ye saw her, Malcolm.”
“There may be little choice.”
“There is another choice.”
“What?”
“Gretna Green.” The more Duncan had pondered elopement, the better he liked the idea. Not only would it be an immediate resolution to Brixham’s foul play, but his precious Merry would be his wife within days. “That would nullify that feckin’ special license.”
Malcolm chuckled. “Indeed, it would. Have ye spoken to yer lady about this choice?”
“I have not, nor have I spoken to her family about it, so I would prefer ye remain close-mouthed on the subject, ye ken?” Malcolm had never possessed the inclination nor the ability to keep a secret in his entire life, but if he spoke out of turn regarding this one, Duncan would thrash him for it.
“For once in yer life, keep yer gob shut.”
Malcolm lifted both hands in surrender. “Understood, brother. I’ll not say a word.”
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of Broadmere House.
“I shall wait here whilst ye go and fetch His Grace.” After a glance at his pocket watch, Malcolm shooed Duncan onward. “Make haste, though. The hour draws near.”
Duncan alighted from the carriage and hurried to the door.
Fipps opened it before he had a chance to make use of the brass knocker, making Duncan wonder how the servant always seemed to know when someone had arrived before they even knocked.
Did he stand in the hallway, peering out the narrow windows on either side of the entrance?
Duncan eyed the man, hoping the butler never used his almost-uncanny abilities for ill rather than the good of his employers.
“His Grace will be with you shortly, Lord Kirkston.” Fipps motioned toward the parlor. “Lady Merry asked that you see her before the two of you leave.”
“Thank ye, Fipps.” Duncan hurried to join his lady love, hoping that today’s outcome would go as she wished. “Merry?”
She set aside her open book and hurried to him, taking hold of both his hands. “Are you all right?”
Confused, he barely shook his head. “Aye, my own. Why would I not be?”
She wet her sumptuous lips, making him hungry to taste them again. “I feared that after Lady Atterley’s ball, you would have had your fill of me. I know the situation is most unseemly. The tattle sheets are already hinting at scandal.”
He pulled her into his arms and held her close, breathing her in and willing her to know that all would be well.
He would see to it. “To hell with the tattle sheets. Ye are mine, lass, and I am still proud as can be by the way ye fought that night.” He took hold of her shoulders and gently moved her so he could look into her eyes.
“And now we will wed. One way or another.”
“What if the archbishop fails to cooperate?”
He didn’t wish to mention eloping to Gretna Green just yet, but neither did he want to leave her without hope.
“Dinna go borrowing trouble, my own. Yer brother and I will get this matter resolved and behind us all. Everyone who matters, everyone who knows ye, knows that ye would never go sneaking off to meet with the likes of Brixham. We will see this through, I swear it.”
She smiled up at him, but sadness filled her eyes. “I hate this.”
“I know, lass. I hate that it happened as well. But now we have a battle to tend to, and tend to it we shall.”
“We should be going, Kirkston,” Broadmere said from the doorway. He tipped a gentle nod at his sister. “We will do our best, Merry. Hold fast and strong. Remember who you are.”
“I know,” she said a little too brightly, her smile quivering. “Godspeed to you both. Bring me good news.”
Duncan wished he could assure her that they would. Instead, he said, “We shall try our best, my lady.” Then he bowed and hurried to follow the duke. They indeed needed to make haste, or they would be late for their audience with the archbishop.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Broadmere said as the carriage took off. He locked eyes with Duncan. “If you are Catholic, make no mention of it. The man is adamantly opposed to Catholicism.”
“How does he feel about the Church of Scotland?”
“That, I do not know. Best steer clear of religion if at all possible.” Broadmere shifted in the seat as if he had a burr in his breeches. “Father never quite got along with the archbishop, so I fear that will color this meeting badly as well.”
“Were ye able to discover Brixham’s standing with the man? That knowledge would help us.” Merry had assured Duncan that Serendipity’s contacts when it came to finding out anything anyone wished to know were exemplary.
Broadmere flinched, narrowing his eyes as he looked out the carriage window. “Brixham’s father was a close friend and devoted supporter of His Grace.”
“Damn.”
“Exactly.”
Malcolm nudged Duncan’s foot with the toe of his boot. Duncan barely shook his head and glared at his brother, willing him to keep his mouth shut about Gretna Green.
“If Merry could not bear Mayfair until the special license expires, perhaps she could retire to the quiet of the country until the time was up.” Duncan knew it wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would get her out of the ton’s direct gaze.
Broadmere flinched again. “That would fuel the gossips even more, I fear. A young lady removing herself from Society after such an ordeal would only support Brixham’s claims. They would say she was attempting to hide the results of her clandestine activities—especially with Brixham as the one involved, and your being the gentleman to whom she is engaged.
Merry cannot run away. She must find the courage to stay put and face them down. ”
“That is not fair to her.”
“There is little fairness to women in this day and age. Merry knows this. Our mother often bemoaned that very fact.”
The carriage halted at Doctors’ Commons on Knightrider Street. Duncan eyed the building that housed the office of the man who held his and Merry’s fate. Well, not entirely. If the archbishop failed to cooperate, there was always Gretna Green’s wedding anvil.
They entered the building, which smelled like an enormous library that housed every parchment and paper in existence.
Climbing the open stairway to the office they sought, Duncan looked down on the endless individuals searching through shelves upon shelves of tomes and carting the oversized volumes to tables and stands for closer examination.
When they entered the private office of the archbishop, a short, bespectacled man peered at them through his smudged lenses.
“Have you an appointment?” he asked, his tone condescending.