Truly a Wife (Free Fellows League 4)

Bishop Manwaring turned back to Daniel and asked him to repeat the vows, then did the same to Miranda. And when they’d finished repeating vows and making promises, the minister asked for the ring.

“Have you a ring, Your Grace?”

He didn’t—not for Miranda—but he’d worn a gold ring on his right hand since he’d inherited the dukedom. Daniel tugged his gold signet ring off his finger, then looked up at Miranda. “This will have to do for now.”

Miranda bit her bottom lip, then gave a slight nod.

“Place the ring on the third finger of her left hand, Your Grace, and repeat after me.” Bishop Manwaring waited until Daniel did as he’d instructed. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Daniel repeated the solemn promise, then slipped the ring bearing his ducal crest onto Miranda’s gloved finger.

The ring was heavy, and she automatically closed her fist to keep it from sliding off.

“Those whom God had joined together let no man put asunder,” the minister continued. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He looked at Daniel. “You may kiss your bride, Your Grace.”

Miranda kept her fist closed around Daniel’s signet ring, clutching it against her heart as she turned her face up to receive his kiss—their first kiss as husband and wife. But Daniel barely brushed the corner of her mouth with his. She gave a little sigh and put away her disappointment. Her wedding barely qualified as a ceremony, and Daniel’s brush of her lips barely qualified as a kiss. Both were in perfect accord.

Bishop Manwaring took out his pen and ink, and the special license with the dispensation from the Archbishop of Canterbury allowing the purchaser to wed at any time or place and issued it to Daniel, ninth Duke of Sussex. The bishop wrote in Miranda’s name, and after signing his name with a flourish and affixing his seal of office, he offered the pen to Daniel to sign the parish register.

Daniel made no move to take the pen. “I’ve no wish to have our marriage made public just yet.”

Bishop Manwaring nodded. “I gathered that this was a secret wedding.”

“For the moment,” Daniel said. “Although we wanted very much to marry, this is not the opportune time to reveal it.”

“I see.” The reverend looked from the Duke of Sussex to his new duchess. “Rest assured, Your Grace, that the wedding is legal even if it is not recorded. Your special license will bear proof of it. But the church encourages all of its parishioners to record the important events of their lives in as timely a manner as possible.”

“How timely?” Miranda asked quietly.

“Before a month has passed.”

She looked at Daniel. “We shall do our best to return to sign the register within thirty days, shan’t we, Your Grace?”

Daniel gave the bishop a quick nod and reached into his jacket, rummaging through his pockets.

Miranda feared Daniel was reaching for his flask, and was enormously relieved to see him produce his purse. He opened it, shook out several gold and silver coins, and handed them to the bishop. “For the license and your trouble, My Lord.”

“You need only pay for the license, Your Grace. You already have my discretion. Your patronage of St. Michael’s through the years has always been most generous.” He held out his hand, offering to return the coins Daniel had given him.

Daniel frowned. He couldn’t think what to do, and he’d always prided himself on handling awkward situations with more aplomb.

Miranda came to his rescue. “Please, accept it,” she told him. “You’ve done us a very great favor, My Lord, and His Grace and I would like you to use this money wherever it will do the most good, as a way of sharing our good fortune.”

“I’d be delighted, Your Grace,” Bishop Manwaring said, taking Miranda’s hand and patting the back of it. “And may I be the first to wish you happiness on your nuptials?”

Miranda blinked in surprise. Your Grace. For better or for worse, she had just become Daniel’s duchess.

Chapter Six

“The better part of valor is discretion;

in the which better part I have saved my life.”

—William Shakespeare, 1564–1616

“Where to, miss … ma’am?” Ned asked, returning to the coach after escorting the bishop and Lady Manwaring back to the palace.