night before flared between them, silver-hot, and then he broke away. “I don't think,” he whispered ruefully against her temple, “that I'll regret this so much. I think that it might suit me very well."
Merlin dragged her heavy eyelids open. “What?” she said in a hazy voice.
He gave her a gentle push forward. “Come. The bishop's been waiting four hours."
Their entrance to the dining room was heralded with a thump and a clang as Ransom knocked over an abandoned bellows which collapsed in a heap at his feet.
A tall, elderly man in white stockings and a black frock unfolded from his chair, but Merlin had eyes only for Thaddeus's bald head, gleaming above a blood-stained bandage. “Thaddeus! Whatever on earth happened?” She pulled out of the duke's grasp and rushed to the manservant. “Oh, no, did that wretched scaffolding of mine in the barn fall on you? I'm so sorry, Thaddeus, I know I promised to pull it down, and I was going to, I truly was, but you see I had a splendid notion this afternoon, and I was afraid that I'd lose what it was, you know, if I didn't put something together just then, and—well, you see ... I suppose I ... just forgot."
"Aye, that you did,” Thaddeus said, pushing her away as she tried to pat his shoulder. “Forgot it the last six months, you have, but that ain't what crowned me! Some bleedin’ Frenchie, the duke here says"—he waved a hand toward Ransom—” snuck up on me like the creepy little snake he was. And I'm sorry, Miss Merlin, that I am, but he did make a wee mess of your room."
"It isn't important now,” Ransom said sharply. “Bishop, may I present Miss Merlin Lambourne?"
Merlin blinked at the thin cleric. He was observing her with a sad, faintly accusing gravity, as if she had just died and been refused admission to Heaven. She managed a curtsy—one that must have squeaked from all the rust on it, she feared.
The bishop inclined his head. “It is most gratifying to perform the Lord's service and be of comfort to you in this moment of darkness, Miss Lambourne. I trust you will find strength in knowing that I bring His holy blessing to bestow upon your union."
Merlin made no sense of that. She glanced quickly at the duke. His mouth curved into a thin line of annoyance, but he said nothing.
"High time.” Thaddeus thumped the table and stood up, tottering only a little. “Me an’ the parson agree on that. Let's hie on over to Theo's room and tie the knot."
Merlin felt Ransom's hand beneath her elbow, turning her toward the door. She set her feet frantically. “Tie the knot! Thaddeus, are you mad? You don't really suppose I'm going to marry anyone!"
"Well, o’ course ye are, Miss Merlin. Why not?"
She struggled for an answer. “Because I can't. I've never known anyone who was married!"
"Well, I ‘spect the duke here can tell ye all about it.” Thaddeus arched his brows. “What he ain't managed to get across already."
Ransom's fingers tightened on her elbow. “Keep a civil tongue in your head,” he said coldly, “or you may find you don't care for your new master."
"Hmmpf. Ye can just lay them hackles, Mr. Big Dog. ‘Tweren't my doin’ she's got to be married, no sir. And she don't understand a word of it no how, that's plain as a pitchfork."
The bishop cleared his throat. “Perhaps I should speak privately with Miss Lambourne. I feel that, indeed, she may not recognize the gravity of her spiritual position."
The grip on Merlin's arm tightened until it hurt. “I hope I made myself clear, Bishop. No blame whatsoever can be attached to Miss Lambourne. Her ‘spiritual position’ is perfect innocence."
"Well put, my lord duke.” The bishop fixed Ransom with a disapproving gaze. “You must certainly bear the entire weight of this incident on your own conscience. Still, as a friend of your family, and of your late grandsire, I hope you will permit me to say that Miss Lambourne might benefit from guidance—other than your own—in such a
Merlin dragged her heavy eyelids open. “What?” she said in a hazy voice.
He gave her a gentle push forward. “Come. The bishop's been waiting four hours."
Their entrance to the dining room was heralded with a thump and a clang as Ransom knocked over an abandoned bellows which collapsed in a heap at his feet.
A tall, elderly man in white stockings and a black frock unfolded from his chair, but Merlin had eyes only for Thaddeus's bald head, gleaming above a blood-stained bandage. “Thaddeus! Whatever on earth happened?” She pulled out of the duke's grasp and rushed to the manservant. “Oh, no, did that wretched scaffolding of mine in the barn fall on you? I'm so sorry, Thaddeus, I know I promised to pull it down, and I was going to, I truly was, but you see I had a splendid notion this afternoon, and I was afraid that I'd lose what it was, you know, if I didn't put something together just then, and—well, you see ... I suppose I ... just forgot."
"Aye, that you did,” Thaddeus said, pushing her away as she tried to pat his shoulder. “Forgot it the last six months, you have, but that ain't what crowned me! Some bleedin’ Frenchie, the duke here says"—he waved a hand toward Ransom—” snuck up on me like the creepy little snake he was. And I'm sorry, Miss Merlin, that I am, but he did make a wee mess of your room."
"It isn't important now,” Ransom said sharply. “Bishop, may I present Miss Merlin Lambourne?"
Merlin blinked at the thin cleric. He was observing her with a sad, faintly accusing gravity, as if she had just died and been refused admission to Heaven. She managed a curtsy—one that must have squeaked from all the rust on it, she feared.
The bishop inclined his head. “It is most gratifying to perform the Lord's service and be of comfort to you in this moment of darkness, Miss Lambourne. I trust you will find strength in knowing that I bring His holy blessing to bestow upon your union."
Merlin made no sense of that. She glanced quickly at the duke. His mouth curved into a thin line of annoyance, but he said nothing.
"High time.” Thaddeus thumped the table and stood up, tottering only a little. “Me an’ the parson agree on that. Let's hie on over to Theo's room and tie the knot."
Merlin felt Ransom's hand beneath her elbow, turning her toward the door. She set her feet frantically. “Tie the knot! Thaddeus, are you mad? You don't really suppose I'm going to marry anyone!"
"Well, o’ course ye are, Miss Merlin. Why not?"
She struggled for an answer. “Because I can't. I've never known anyone who was married!"
"Well, I ‘spect the duke here can tell ye all about it.” Thaddeus arched his brows. “What he ain't managed to get across already."
Ransom's fingers tightened on her elbow. “Keep a civil tongue in your head,” he said coldly, “or you may find you don't care for your new master."
"Hmmpf. Ye can just lay them hackles, Mr. Big Dog. ‘Tweren't my doin’ she's got to be married, no sir. And she don't understand a word of it no how, that's plain as a pitchfork."
The bishop cleared his throat. “Perhaps I should speak privately with Miss Lambourne. I feel that, indeed, she may not recognize the gravity of her spiritual position."
The grip on Merlin's arm tightened until it hurt. “I hope I made myself clear, Bishop. No blame whatsoever can be attached to Miss Lambourne. Her ‘spiritual position’ is perfect innocence."
"Well put, my lord duke.” The bishop fixed Ransom with a disapproving gaze. “You must certainly bear the entire weight of this incident on your own conscience. Still, as a friend of your family, and of your late grandsire, I hope you will permit me to say that Miss Lambourne might benefit from guidance—other than your own—in such a
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