“But—but surely there is the—the matter of consummation!” Pickett sputtered.
“There is actually quite a bit more to it than that, but even if there were not, recall that the pair of you have been at great pains to convince the innkeeper that you were sharing the room assigned to her ladyship. And at the Kirkbride ball you were observed to be behaving very, shall we say, affectionately toward one another. I wish you joy in finding anyone present at the ball or staying here at the inn who could be persuaded that the marriage has not been consummated. No, my boy, I’ll admit I am more conversant with criminal law than civil, but I believe you may find yourself well and truly hitched.” He took Pickett’s unresisting hand and began pumping it vigorously. “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your recent nuptials.”
Pickett hardly heard his congratulations, for his mind was reeling. There had to be a mistake. This was impossible. Viscountesses did not marry Bow Street Runners, not even by accident.
And yet . . . she had invited him to be her lover, so she must feel something for him. It occurred to him that if he had taken her up on the offer, he could have bound her to himself for the rest of her life. But it would not have done; she would have hated him for it, and who could blame her? No, when he reached London he would have to seek her out and tell her what had happened. He had no doubt the Fieldhursts would be willing to pay through the nose to ensure that any marriage between them, if such a marriage indeed existed, was set aside. And that it would have to be set aside somehow, he had no doubt. Viscountesses did not marry Bow Street Runners.
Except, he thought with rising elation, except that one had, however unintentionally. Was it too much to hope that lightning might strike twice, that a marriage begun in such a disastrous manner might somehow, impossibly, survive? Well, yes, it probably was. It would not do to fill his head with false hopes.
Still, it was with a much lighter heart that Pickett hefted his old valise and followed the magistrate outside to the coach that would take him back to London—to London, and his wife.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
* * *
Sheri Cobb South is the award-winning author of sixteen novels, including the popular John Pickett series of Regency mysteries, the critically acclaimed Regency romance The Weaver Takes a Wife, and the hard-to-find Sweet Dreams title Wrong-Way Romance. A native and longtime resident of Alabama, she recently moved to Loveland, Colorado, with her husband, and now has a stunning view of Longs Peak from her office window. When she is not writing, she enjoys reading, doing needlework, and singing in her church choir. Sheri loves to hear from readers, and invites them to email her at [email protected], “Like” her on Facebook, and/or visit her website at www.shericobbsouth.com.
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