“Do you not need our names first?” Kit asked.
The man seemed taken aback. “You’re Mr. Christopher Adolphus James Frederick Featherton, are you not?”
“I am.”
The rector turned to Mary. “And you are Mary Elizabeth Constance Gertrude Isabel Tolliver. Is that correct?”
“It is.”
“Gertrude?” Kit whispered.
“Don’t remind me. She was an aunt.”
“I have nothing against the name at all. In fact, that was the name of the aunt who left me Rose Hill.”
Mary’s eyes widened. “Truly?”
“On my honor,” Kit replied. He wondered briefly if she were one and the same. Odder things had been known to happen. He’d have to ask his grandmother, if he ever decided to speak to her again.
“Shall we begin?” the vicar asked.
Mary and Kit faced one another. Her fingers trembled a bit, but he pressed on them, comforting her. Although the vicar was right next to them, she had trouble hearing him over her pounding heart. Then Kit smiled, and promised to love, honor, and cherish her all the days of their lives, and she believed he meant every word. He held her gaze with his as she said her vows to him.
She’d forgotten all about the ring until he slipped it on her finger, and whispered, “My mother sent more. You can choose another if you’d like.”
Mary didn’t want another one. It was perfect. Rubies and diamonds set into a wide gold band, and Kit had selected it for her.
“Sir, could you please repeat, ‘with this ring I thee wed’?”
“Sorry.” He grinned. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship.”
That was the part she wondered about. She must have missed the rest, because a few moments later, they were pronounced man and wife.
Mary, Kit, Caro, and Huntley signed the register.
The vicar shook Kit’s hand. “I wish you a long and happy life.”
“Thank you.”
As they left the church through the same small side door, he wrapped his arm around Mary’s waist.
She had no idea what to say. Fortunately, Caro came to her rescue. “I realize it is early, but I think champagne is in order. Shall we repair to the hotel?”
“Excellent idea, my love.” Huntley placed her hand on his arm.
Kit held Mary’s hand as they walked the two blocks to the King’s Arms.
They entered the massive lobby. Marble columns and a carved ceiling added to the feeling of space. The carpet was thick, cushioning their steps.
A tall, slender man dressed in black greeted them. “Mr. Featherton and Lady Mary, I presume?” Kit gave a curt nod. “I am Mr. Maitland. If you will please follow me.”
He led them up one set of stairs to a room with a large parlor. Although it was not that chilly, a fire blazed in the hearth. On a round table, champagne, fruit, cheese, and bread had been laid out. He handed Kit the key. “There will be a runner stationed in the hall if you are in need of anything. He will call your servants, who have rooms at the end of the corridor.”
“I had no idea hotels were so opulent,” Mary said as she took in the furnishings.
“This rivals the Putney,” Kit responded. “I’ll pour the champagne.”
He pulled out a chair for her, as did Huntley for Caro.
