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own gown. She was wearing a creamy satin gown with an overskirt pinned back over straw-colored silk. It was her best, although it had no pretensions to being a London gown. Darby kissed her hand and then stood for a moment, looking down at her. Then he said, “Are you ready, Henrietta?”

She nodded, unable to speak for a moment.

“Are you certain you wish to accompany me to London directly after the service? I do need to return, but I don’t want to wrench you away from your family.”

“Not at all.” A tiny part of her mind longed to go on one of those newfangled bridal tours that her sister told her about. But they weren’t that sort of couple, and besides, she had made up her mind not to leave the girls until she found a trustworthy nursemaid.

“I had no idea that you shared a maid with your sister,”

Darby said, his brow creasing.

Henrietta bit back a smile. Obviously Darby would never share a manservant, the way she had always shared Crace with her sister.

“I had thought that your maid would travel with the children, since we are still without a nursemaid,” Darby continued. “However, I will ask Lady Holkham if—”

“I shall travel with Josie and Anabel,” Henrietta said firmly. “There’s no need whatsoever to borrow one of my stepmother’s servants.”

“I know you mean to be a devoted mother to the children, Henrietta, and I honor you for it. But Anabel’s stomach problems cause quite a pestilence in close quarters. And I’m afraid that traveling does Josie’s temper no good whatsoever.”

Henrietta lifted her chin. “They shall be my children.”

His surly friend appeared. Henrietta curtsied. “Good morning, Lord Godwin.”

“Morning,” he muttered. Then he took Darby by the side and drew him toward the back of the chapel, and Henrietta distinctly heard him say, “It’s not too late to . . .”

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The wave of relief she felt on hearing Darby’s laugh was quite terrifying.

The little chapel was growing crowded, even though Millicent had insisted that they invite no one. The children were seated in the right front pew, flanking Esme’s nanny, and Lady Holkham with Imogen were opposite them. Helene and her husband Lord Godwin were, naturally enough, at opposite ends of the chapel. The vicar, Mr. Fetcham, nodded to her, and Henrietta walked into the little crypt off to the side. She was to wait for her cue before she emerged. She leaned against a stone crypt and tried not to think about what was to come. The crypt was adorned with a statue of its occupant, lying on his back, rigidly poking his hands up in the air in an eternal gesture of prayer. The crypt was bitterly cold. Slowly the damp cold sank into Henrietta’s bones, making her feel as rigid as the statue.

Finally, the door pushed open, and Lord Godwin stood in the doorway, waiting to escort her to the altar.

“Rees is my closest friend,” Darby had told her. “Since your father is dead, I asked him to stand in.”

Henrietta had the fleeting thought that perhaps Lord Godwin would tell her that it wasn’t too late, but he simply held out his arm.

Everyone stood up as she began walking from the back of the chapel. The cold had done its work: she was limping badly. Why hadn’t she thought about that walk to the altar?

She’d be lucky if Darby didn’t turn tail and run, given that she was almost lurching, in a moment that should be a woman’s most graceful.

Mr. Fetcham looked as cheerful as if he weren’t celebrating a marriage of sinners, which is surely what he must have thought she and Darby to be. “We are gathered here together to join this man and woman together in holy matrimony.”

Henrietta could only hope that her family could hear the words of the marriage service over Josie’s loud whispering. Fool for Love

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She shifted her weight, wondering whether her leg would simply crumple, throwing her to the ground. The vicar was pointing out that marriage was not to be taken in hand to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding. She could see instantly why those particular lines were in the service. Not that her soon-to-be husband seemed to care that marriage was ordained as a remedy against sin and fornication. Actually, fornication was a good word for it: an ugly, sharp word. The vicar droned on, but Henrietta stopped listening when he said that marriage was ordained for the procreation of children. The service seemed to have little to do with her, what with the fact she had advised her husband to take a mistress, not to mention the fact that they couldn’t procreate. Instead, she tried to understand Josie’s piercing commentary from the front row. She could just guess what the little girl was saying. Josie wanted Esme as her new mother, not Lady Henny who threw water on her. Henrietta tried not to feel hurt. Josie would learn to love her.

Her leg was sending bolts of pain all the way to her right knee. Darby must have noticed that she was shifting her weight, because he looked down with a small frown. Henrietta tried to still herself. When they turned about from the altar, man and wife, one would be hard-pressed to say whether Josie or Rees looked more disgruntled. Only Esme looked delighted.

“Congratulations, Darby,” Rees said, shaking his hand. I suppose, Henrietta thought dispiritedly, now that it’s too late to save his friend from an awful fate, Lord Godwin has decided to make the best of it.

“Are you quite convinced that you wish to travel with the children?” Darby asked her again, after they had accepted everyone’s congratulations. “A coach is not the best place to further your acquaintance with Anabel, in particular.”