Page 30 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

His mouth hitched in a fleeting half smile of his own. “That’s done, then.”

“Officially.”

He squeezed her hand. “There’s no turning back now, Mrs. Thornhill.”

Mrs. Thornhill.

Helena’s stomach clenched. This was never what she’d wanted. Like every other young woman of her acquaintance, she’d dreamed of meeting a handsome gentleman who would assiduously court her and win her affections. She’d believed she would marry for love or not at all.

Mr. Boothroyd cleared his throat. “It’s not quite official, sir.” He cast a pointed look at the large leather-bound book lying open on the high counter. “You’ve yet to sign the register.”

Her smile faded. She wished Mr. Boothroyd hadn’t been necessary as a witness. His dour presence had only served to worsen her anxiety during the brief ceremony. Even now, as they moved to the register, she could feel him behind her, judging her every step.

The superintendent registrar handed her a quill pen. He was a white-haired gentleman with a truly impressive set of side-whiskers. “Mind you write your married name now,” he said. “There’s many a female who forgets.”

“I won’t forget.” She dipped the pen into the inkwell and signed her new name for the first time with an unsteady hand.

Helena Elaine Thornhill.

“Though it still doesn’t feel quite real,” she murmured as she passed the quill to Justin.

He signed his own name in the register with far more decisiveness. “You’ll soon grow accustomed to it.”

“You’ll have forty or more years to do so,” the superintendent registrar said. “God willing.”

Forty or more years? Helena glanced at Justin, expecting to find some expression of apprehension on his face. But Justin didn’t seem at all alarmed at the prospect of spending such a length of time with her.

He exchanged a few words with the superintendent registrar while Mr. Boothroyd and Bess stepped forward to sign their names in the register, attesting to their role as witnesses.

And then they all waited—some with more impatience than others—as a clerk painstakingly copied out their marriage lines onto a sheet of paper.

When he’d finished, the superintendent registrar directed them each to affix their signatures and then, with an air of solemnity, he presented the paper to Helena.

“Your proof of marriage, madam. Keep it safe.”

Helena took the certificate, awash with a profound sense of reverence—and relief. It seemed such an unexceptional document. And yet its existence could mean the difference between respectability and ruination.

Or, in her case, life and death.

She folded it carefully into her reticule. “I shall.”

Justin touched her lightly on the small of the back. “Will you give me a moment to speak with Boothroyd?”

“Of course.” She waited near the counter, watching as he crossed the room to address his steward. He said something to Mr. Boothroyd. Something which made the older man purse his lips in irritation. Moments later, Mr. Boothroyd departed the registrar’s office with Bess in tow.

“Where are they going?” she asked when Justin returned to her.

“To the livery stable. To hire a carriage to take them back to King’s Abbot.”

Her pulse skipped. The idea of being left alone with Justin without a chaperone was too new. It felt illicit. Dangerous. “Aren’t we…?”

“We’re going to dine at the Stanhope Hotel. It’s only a short walk. And you’ll find the food far superior to anything Mrs. Blevins has been serving at the King’s Arms.” He took her hand in his and tucked it through his arm. “I trust you’re hungry.”

“I am,” she admitted. “I didn’t eat a single bite this morning.”

“Nor did I.” He gave her another brief smile. “Wedding day nerves, I believe.”

The street outside the registrar’s office was all but empty save for a lone gentleman driving a smart-looking gig in the opposite direction. The rain had stopped, but the sky was gray, dark clouds heavy with the promise of another deluge.