“I want a wedding,” Nana groaned.
Viola leaned forward and patted her papery hand. “Yes, yes. George will arrive soon. Then we can get married.”
Once more, a punch to the gut. He’d have to leave before then. Under no circumstances did he want to be around when that happened.
Viola looked up and gave him a worried look.
“No, now. It has to be now.” Nana’s head tossed on the pillow. “I want them to marry before I go.”
Heaven help them.
Chapter Four
The Most Reverendand Right Honourable the Lord Archbishop of York, Athanasius Cyprian Whitmore, known to the family as ‘Uncle Atti’, stood in front of the fireplace, rubbing his hands. He was a small, round man with a gleaming bald head and jolly eyes.
“Bastian, my boy.” He grasped Sebastian’s hand, drew him forward into an embrace. “You have grown, my child.”
“Uncle Atti.” The last time he had seen his great-uncle was several weeks ago at his little niece’s christening, where Uncle Atti had said precisely the same thing.
“Your grandmother?” Uncle Atti released him. “I heard she’s not doing well.” He creased his face into a worried frown.
“Yes. I fear it is only a matter of time.”
They went up to Nana’s room, where Viola was bathing her forehead. She straightened when they entered. Bastian introduced them, and Viola dropped into a curtsy. “She is in and out of consciousness,” she reported. “Every time she wakes, she is eagerly asking for your arrival, Your Grace.”
Uncle Atti stepped forward, blinking his eyes heavily. “Regina. What are you up to now, old cow?” He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose.
Nana opened her eyes. “Atti. You rogue. I thought you’d never come.”
“There, there.” He sat down and took her hands. “Of course I came. I promised, didn’t I?”
“Yes, and now that you’re here, I’m already feeling better. Help me up,” she told Viola, who assisted her in sitting up. “There. I needed you for two things.”
“Anything at all, old girl. Anything at all. Say it and you shall have it.”
“I need you for the funeral, of course.”
“You shouldn’t say those things.” Uncle Atti looked as if he was about to burst loudly into tears.
“Balderdash. Of course, one must say those things. I have everything planned. As I said. You will conduct my funeral. You have arrived just in time. But first—” She lifted a hand to beckon forth Viola. “First, you must marry this child.” Her watery eyes turned to Sebastian and held his gaze. “To George.”
Sebastian froze. “I am definitelynotGeorge.”
But Nana ignored him entirely. “Viola must marry him. I promised. I need to see them married before I go.”
Viola made a distressed sound.
Uncle Atti pointed his finger at Sebastian. “Him?”
Nana nodded. “Him.”
“No, not me.” Sebastian broke out in a sweat.
“Not him,” Viola said simultaneously, her voice laced with horror.
“Yes, him,” Nana’s voice was surprisingly loud and overruled everyone.
Atti shook his head. “So who’s it to be now?”
