The archbishop’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. “Youdohave audacity on your side, Lord Peter.”
“We are trying to be as discreet as possible, your grace, for the sake of our reputations.”
“Very discreet indeed, to expect to be wed by an archbishop.”
“If you cannot see your way clear, then of course we must accept your decision, your grace. But I feel—we both feel—that it would be best to return to the village already safely wed rather than try to have a secret wedding in the village church.”
“You traveled to York with her?”
“With my curate’s widowed sister as chaperone,” Peter hastened to say. “I rode alongside the carriage. It was completely proper.”
“Yes, of course, everything proper, except for you living under the same roof for weeks,” the archbishop murmured. “Where is she now?”
“She and Mrs. Clarke are having tea with the Dean’s wife while they wait for us. If… if I may be permitted to make an introduction?”
“Yes. I cannot make the final decision until you do.”
Peter bowed as they rose from their chairs, hiding his inner trepidation, and allowed the archbishop to lead the way to the drawing room. There were now four women inside, but Peter only had eyes for Georgie, who was still wearing the new bonnet he had bought her in York that morning before proceeding to Bishopthorpe.
“Really, my dear, the men may well natter on for another hour,” the archbishop’s wife drawled. “You may as well make yourself comfortable and remove your bonnet.”
“Thank you, Lady Anne,” Georgie said, her voice a little breathless. “I am perfectly comfortable.”
Georgie caught sight of him, and the anxious expression on her face made him cross to her side immediately and take her hand. He stopped himself from kissing it as he wanted, instead squeezing it and seating himself on the arm of the settee next to her, still keeping her hand in his. Mrs. Clarke sat on Georgie’s other side, uncharacteristically quiet in the distinguished company.
“We have been having the loveliest chat,” the dean’s wife said. “I had no idea otters were so fascinating.”
“Georgie—Miss Morland—has made quite a study of them, assisting her late father,” Peter said. “They were given to him by the Prince Regent himself.”
“And what else does Miss Morland spend her time doing?” The archbishop’s wife was starchy, as befit her position, but Peter had always suspected her of having a secret sense of humor.
“She is a fine illustrator of nature as well,” Peter said, as Georgie squirmed and blushed. “She has been helping meorganize my notes to potentially publish a book of my sermons. And, of course, she is prepared to do her duties in the parish as my wife.”
“Yes,” Georgie said, her hand clutching at his although her voice was perfectly steady. “I look forward to them. I was used to helping the vicar’s wife in Sussex.”
There was silence as the archbishop and his wife studied Peter and Georgie, and then looked at each other in silent communication. Peter squeezed Georgie’s hand, and she clung to him with a social smile on her face.
“I think they should be wed right away,” the archbishop’s wife said decisively. “The last thing the Avondale family needs is another scandal.”
“Thank you, your grace.” Peter lifted Georgie’s hand to his lips and kissed it despite her blushes. “Above all things, I would like to avoid a scandal, for Georgie’s sake.”
“Very well,” the archbishop said. “You shall stay here at the castle tonight—withyour chaperone, Miss Morland—and be wed in the morning.”
Peter briefly closed his eyes and gave thanks before looking down at Georgie. As he watched the smile bloom on her face, he knew whatever obstacles they would need to surmount would be worth it to keep Georgie in his life. To have her as his wife, for every day going forward.
Keeping his gaze on hers, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, watching the blush come and go in her cheeks before standing to bow to the archbishop and his wife.
“Thank you, your grace,” he said. “We are honored.”
10
They were only at Bishopthorpe Palace overnight, but Georgie spent the entire time in terror she would knock over a vase or trip down the medieval stairs to her death. His grace the Archbishop and Lady Anne presided over a formal dinner that evening where Georgie felt underdressed and gauche with her country manners and country conversation. Other denizens of the palace joined them in a swirl of names and faces in which Georgie quickly became hopelessly lost.
It did not help that Mrs. Clarke seemed intimidated as well and did not keep up her usual run of cheerful conversation. Only Peter seemed comfortable in their glittering surroundings, and perhaps that frightened Georgie most of all. It seemed she was receiving constant reminders of how far below him she was. He was on close speaking terms with anarchbishop! He had successfully persuaded someone Georgie could never have imagined encountering that he should bend the rules so they could marry.
She tossed and turned all night whilst Mrs. Clarke snored beside her. Tomorrow was her wedding day, and she could nothelp but be fearful of what the future held. She must do her best to be the wife and helpmeet Peter would need at the parish, and to also fit into his intimidating world of archbishops and dukes.
It was to be her world now, too, and she must adapt to it.
