people with you?”
Diccan turned, as if surprised to find himself still flanked by a contingent of soldiers. “Moral support,” he said. “They
have offered to wait outside for the outcome of our meeting.”
“We have indeed,” Harry Lidge agreed, herding his little group back into the hallway. “We’ll have a seat in the parlor.”
“Why?” Diccan’s father demanded. “Are you under arrest? What have you done?”
“Nothing that warrants arrest, sir, I assure you.” He flashed a wicked grin for his cousin, who was far more understanding
than his own father. “At least this time.”
Cousin Charles settled back into his chair. “Nonetheless, Diccan, you have made a rather startling appearance. I imagine you
would like to explain.”
Diccan took his own chair across from the archbishop’sdesk. “It seems I need a very special favor from you, Cousin,” he began, doing his best to pretend his disapproving parent
was not in the room. “A special license. Quickly, I’m afraid.”
“Good God!” his father protested, popping up like an outraged matron. “What have you done?”
Diccan brought out his snuffbox and took a pinch. “I believe I have been involved in an attempt to discredit the negotiations
in Vienna. I was bringing back some sensitive information. While on the packet boat, it seems I was drugged and shanghaied.
I won’t bore you with the sordid details, except to say I woke in the bed of a respectable young woman. There is a hue and
cry for a speedy marriage.”
“I assume that is what the military is present for?” Cousin Charles said with gratifying
sangfroid
.
Diccan gave him a wry smile. “My reputation preceded me.”
“Don’t dress this up, you ingrate,” his father predictably raged. “This is just another chance for you to shame your family.
Well, I won’t have it. Pay the chit off and move on.”
“Evelyn,” Cousin Charles chastised quietly.
“I won’t have his disgraces bruited about like some sordid nursery rhyme,” Diccan’s father protested, pointing at his son
as if he’d managed to foul the floor. “And I won’t be party to having some loose-moraled trollop for a daughter-in-law. He’s
a Hilliard, by God. He should remember it.”
“He happens to be sitting in front of you,” Diccan reminded his father in deceptively gentle tones. Suddenly he resented his
father using almost the same words he had earlier about an innocent woman. “And the lady I am to wed is Miss Grace Fairchild.”
His voice dripped ice. “You might know the name.”
It was what finally cost Cousin Charles his smile. “Know it? I believe I’m related to her.”
“We all are,” Diccan informed him with a listless shrug. “So yes, Father, she will be your daughter-in-law. And if I were
you, I would be on my knees in gratitude before the Almighty.”
“She’s a cripple,” his father sneered.
And you’re an ass,
Diccan thought uncharitably. “I’m afraid I cannot have even you speak of my future wife in that manner.”
“I’ll speak of her as I choose. Your mother and I have tried for ten years to make you see your duty. And
this
is how you answer?”
Again Diccan shrugged, knowing how it irritated his father. “At least I am doing my duty. You win. Can we please move on?
My military escort out there call themselves Grace’s Grenadiers. They will not be satisfied until they see her married. And
Father, before you vent your views on this marriage to them, please remember that they’re armed. And that Grace evidently
saved each of their lives at least once over the course of the last ten years.”
Cousin Charles rang for his secretary. “In that case,” he said, suddenly sounding very much the Archbishop of Canterbury,
“I believe we have a wedding to arrange.”
Lady Kate was standing at the window of Grace’s bedchamber when she saw Diccan and his retinue return. “If I leave you a moment,
you won’t throw yourself out
Diccan turned, as if surprised to find himself still flanked by a contingent of soldiers. “Moral support,” he said. “They
have offered to wait outside for the outcome of our meeting.”
“We have indeed,” Harry Lidge agreed, herding his little group back into the hallway. “We’ll have a seat in the parlor.”
“Why?” Diccan’s father demanded. “Are you under arrest? What have you done?”
“Nothing that warrants arrest, sir, I assure you.” He flashed a wicked grin for his cousin, who was far more understanding
than his own father. “At least this time.”
Cousin Charles settled back into his chair. “Nonetheless, Diccan, you have made a rather startling appearance. I imagine you
would like to explain.”
Diccan took his own chair across from the archbishop’sdesk. “It seems I need a very special favor from you, Cousin,” he began, doing his best to pretend his disapproving parent
was not in the room. “A special license. Quickly, I’m afraid.”
“Good God!” his father protested, popping up like an outraged matron. “What have you done?”
Diccan brought out his snuffbox and took a pinch. “I believe I have been involved in an attempt to discredit the negotiations
in Vienna. I was bringing back some sensitive information. While on the packet boat, it seems I was drugged and shanghaied.
I won’t bore you with the sordid details, except to say I woke in the bed of a respectable young woman. There is a hue and
cry for a speedy marriage.”
“I assume that is what the military is present for?” Cousin Charles said with gratifying
sangfroid
.
Diccan gave him a wry smile. “My reputation preceded me.”
“Don’t dress this up, you ingrate,” his father predictably raged. “This is just another chance for you to shame your family.
Well, I won’t have it. Pay the chit off and move on.”
“Evelyn,” Cousin Charles chastised quietly.
“I won’t have his disgraces bruited about like some sordid nursery rhyme,” Diccan’s father protested, pointing at his son
as if he’d managed to foul the floor. “And I won’t be party to having some loose-moraled trollop for a daughter-in-law. He’s
a Hilliard, by God. He should remember it.”
“He happens to be sitting in front of you,” Diccan reminded his father in deceptively gentle tones. Suddenly he resented his
father using almost the same words he had earlier about an innocent woman. “And the lady I am to wed is Miss Grace Fairchild.”
His voice dripped ice. “You might know the name.”
It was what finally cost Cousin Charles his smile. “Know it? I believe I’m related to her.”
“We all are,” Diccan informed him with a listless shrug. “So yes, Father, she will be your daughter-in-law. And if I were
you, I would be on my knees in gratitude before the Almighty.”
“She’s a cripple,” his father sneered.
And you’re an ass,
Diccan thought uncharitably. “I’m afraid I cannot have even you speak of my future wife in that manner.”
“I’ll speak of her as I choose. Your mother and I have tried for ten years to make you see your duty. And
this
is how you answer?”
Again Diccan shrugged, knowing how it irritated his father. “At least I am doing my duty. You win. Can we please move on?
My military escort out there call themselves Grace’s Grenadiers. They will not be satisfied until they see her married. And
Father, before you vent your views on this marriage to them, please remember that they’re armed. And that Grace evidently
saved each of their lives at least once over the course of the last ten years.”
Cousin Charles rang for his secretary. “In that case,” he said, suddenly sounding very much the Archbishop of Canterbury,
“I believe we have a wedding to arrange.”
Lady Kate was standing at the window of Grace’s bedchamber when she saw Diccan and his retinue return. “If I leave you a moment,
you won’t throw yourself out
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