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you was in the offing. It was her fondest hope—’
    ‘Damn.’
    ‘Your Grace. There’s no need—’
    ‘This was all neatly arranged, wasn’t it? My mother’s hand from beyond the grave, shoving that poor girl down the road to ruin, and you and your wife looking the other way while it happened.’ He leaned forward and the vicar leaned back.
    ‘Your Grace, I hardly think—’
    ‘You hardly do, that’s for certain. Suppose I am as bad as my mother made me out to be? Then you would have thrown the girl’s honour away in the hope that I would agree to this madness. Suppose I had been from home when she arrived? Suppose it had been just St John here to greet her? Do you honestly think he would be so agreeable?’ He was on the verge of shouting again. He paused to gain control and his next words were a cold and contemptuous whisper. ‘Or would you have brushed that circumstance under the rug and rushed her back out of town, instead of trumpeting the girl’s location around the village so that everyone would know and my obligation would be clear
    ‘That does not signify. Fortunately, we have only the situation at hand to deal with.’
    ‘Which leaves me married to a stranger chosen by my mother.’
    He was nodding again, but without certainty. ‘Hmm, well…under the circumstances it would be best to act expediently. The banns—’
    ‘Are far from expedient, as I remember. We dispensed with them the last time. A special licence.’
    ‘If you send to London today, then perhaps by next week…’
    ‘And I suppose you will spirit the girl away to your house for a week, until the paperwork catches up with the plotting. Really, Reverend, you and my mother should have planned this better. Perhaps you should have forged my name on the application a month ago and we could have settled this today. You needn’t have involved me in the decision at all.’ He thought for a moment and stared coldly at the priest. ‘This is how we will proceed. You will perform the ceremony today, and I will go off to London tomorrow for the licence.’
    ‘But that would be highly improper.’
    ‘But it would ensure I need never see your face in my house again, and that suits me well. If you cared for impropriety, you should have seen to it yesterday, when you met Miranda on her way here. When I come back with the licence I will have a servant bring it to you and you can fill in whatever dates you choose and sign the bloody thing. But this morning you will see the young lady and myself married before the eyes of God in the family chapel.’
    His head was shaking now in obvious disapproval. ‘Hmm. Well, that would hardly be legitimate.’
    ‘Not legal, perhaps, but certainly moral. And morality is what you are supposed to concern yourself with. If you don’t question the fact that you coerced me into taking her, then do not waste breath telling me my behaviour is improper. Open the prayer book and say the words, take yourself andyour bullying harpy of a wife away from this house and leave me in peace. Now go to the chapel and prepare for the ceremony. Miranda and I will be there shortly.’
    The vicar hemmed and harrumphed his way out of the study, not happy, but apparently willing to follow Marcus’s plan without further objections. A generous gratuity after the ceremony would go a long way towards smoothing any remaining ruffled feathers and soon the scandal of his new marriage would fade away as though there had been nothing unusual about it.
    His mind was at rest on one point, at least. The interview with the vicar exonerated Miranda of any blame for the unusual and scandalous way she had appeared on his doorstep. She had hoped to make a match, but there was no evidence that she had tried to trap him by ruining herself. There was no reason to believe that she was anything other than what she appeared to be.
    Unless she was dishonoured before she arrived at his home.
    The letters from the mysterious Cecily said otherwise. They