“I’m doing my damnedest to avoid the grim reaper …” He gave her a ghost of his usual charming smile, and Miranda suddenly realized just how weak he was. “And avoiding both our mothers is an equally challenging and worthy goal.”
“I understand why you want to avoid your mother,” Miranda told him. “But I don’t know why you want to avoid mine. My mother is warm and welcoming and approves wholeheartedly of you.”
“Most mothers approve of me, my dear marchioness,” he drawled. “I’m a duke.”
“Cumberland’s a duke,” Miranda reminded him. “And Mother despises him.”
“Your mother is a paragon of good judgment,” he conceded. “Unlike mine, whose taste in all things fashionable is unparalleled, but whose ability to judge character is questionable at best.”
“Her Grace is an excellent judge of character,” Miranda disagreed. “That’s why she doesn’t like me.”
Daniel pretended to be shocked. “Are you saying you’ve no character, Lady Miranda?”
“I’m saying I’ve too much character and that your mother wishes
I had less.” Miranda sighed. “She only wants what’s best for you, and she believes that a beautiful, petite, malleable young bride is the best choice.”
“Like I said, my mother’s ability to judge character is questionable at best, especially if she believes that that sort of girl is what I require in a duchess. It’s what she requires, not I.” He paused to press his arm against the wound in his side. “Fortunately, I have the final say.”
“Yes, and think how delighted Her Grace is going to be when she learns of your choice.”
“You’re more than equal to the task of managing my mother,” Daniel told her.
“Let’s hope so,” Miranda breathed, peeking through the curtain in time to see Ned holding an umbrella above the head of a hastily dressed clergyman wearing a nightcap and carrying his prayer book, Bible, and what looked to be the parish register beneath his arm, down the walkway to the coach. “You’ve a moment left to change your mind,” she told him. “Are you certain this is what you want to do?”
Daniel took a deep breath—as deep as was possible with his ribs tightly bound—then slowly exhaled. “It’s hardly the way I envisioned it, but after rousting the bishop from his warm bed, I dare not back out now.”
It wasn’t the way she’d envisioned her wedding, either. She’d never expected to be married inside a coach instead of a chapel, during a spring downpour, or with a footman and a coachman as attendants. But it was a legal wedding with the groom of her choice, and Miranda seized the moment.
The rain poured from the sky in torrents, pummeling the roof of the coach with such force that the bishop nearly had to shout to be heard when he opened the door of the coach, leaned inside, and greeted Daniel. “Is that you, Your Grace?” The clergyman peered into the interior of the coach.
“Yes, My Lord,” Daniel answered.
“Your footman says you have need of me.”
“Indeed, I do, Bishop Manwaring.”
“How might I be of service?”
“I wish to marry the lady,” Daniel announced. “And she has graciously agreed.”
“You wish to marry tonight, Your Grace?” the bishop asked.
“Of course,” Daniel replied in a conspiratorial tone. “I’ve waited a long time for her to accept. I’m not about to let her get away again.”
The bishop grinned. “Most sensible of you, Your Grace. For in the world in which we live, true love is a rare and precious thing.”
Tears welled up in the corners of Miranda’s eyes. Daniel could be an ass, but his moments of gallantry made up for it. Her spur-of-the-moment wedding wasn’t the stuff of romantic dreams, but the bishop would never know it.
“Won’t you come inside out of the weather, Your Grace?” Bishop Manwaring offered, gesturing toward the church.
“Thank you, but no, My Lord, I prefer that you marry us here.” Daniel smiled. One of the first things he’d learned when he inherited the title from his father was that men of lower rank almost never questioned a duke’s requests, no matter how odd the request might be. “In the coach. If that’s agreeable to you,” he added as a courtesy. “For the lady and I prefer to avoid the rain and continue our journey in dry comfort.”
“Yes, of course, Your Grace,” Bishop Manwaring agreed.
“We will, of course, require a special license,” Daniel said.
“Have you ever previously applied for a special license, Your Grace?” the bishop asked.