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“T he weather is being particularly fine for this time of year, don’t you agree?”

Mary grinned at Eunice, who had been pacing the floor of Mary’s chamber for the past twenty minutes at least.

“What in heaven’s name could be taking so long?”

Eunice was as jumpy as a cat. Mary had never seen her aunt so nervous before. “You did say Mr. Doust had to track down the rector in Coldstream.”

“Yes, but how hard can that be?” Eunice’s arms flew up, then dropped again. “The town is not that big.”

“Have some tea.” Mary handed a cup to her aunt. “I’m sure he’ll return soon.”

Finally, Eunice sank onto the chair facing the fireplace. “Thank you. It is probably only nerves.”

“What is there to be anxious about? You two have been smelling of April and May for the better part of a year, and you’ve been married before. It’s not as if you do not know what to expect.”

“Yes, but I was younger then, and my betrothed had the blessing of my family.” Eunice screwed up her face. “This decision feels so much more important for some reason.”

Well, she had a point. Mary took her aunt’s hand. It must have been much easier to have had an arranged marriage with a man one already loved. “Perhaps because you are the one making the decision.”

“You may be right.” Eunice gave a tight smile. “If it goes wrong, I’ll have only myself to blame.”

“Come now.” Mary used her most bracing tone. “That is quite enough of that sort of talk. At this rate, you’ll convince yourself not to marry him at all.” The sounds of horses and men rose from the front of the hotel. “That may be him now.”

A few moments later, a knock sounded on the door. “Come.”

The door swung open. Mr. Doust clutched his hat in his hands and fixed his gaze on Eunice. “If we’re to be wed by a clergyman before next Wednesday, we must go immediately.”

Her eyes widened as she rose. “Now? But why?”

“The rector won’t marry us on Sunday. He has to be out of the area on Monday and won’t be back until late Tuesday. The only other option is to wed over the anvil.” He swallowed. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

The worry in Eunice’s face disappeared and she smiled. “Yes, it is. Let me get my things, and I’ll be right down.”

Eunice rushed off, and Mary dashed to the wardrobe where Mathers had put her jewel box. Her aunt may have been married before, but some traditions had to be maintained. She drew out an old pearl necklace with a sapphire pendant. Old, blue, and borrowed. Now to find something new.

Caro, Anna, and Phoebe entered one after the other, wearing traveling cloaks and bonnets.

“I take it we’re all going to a wedding,” Caro said.

“Yes.” Mary rolled the necklace up in linen, then placed it in her reticule. “I need something new.”

“New?” Anna’s brows puckered for a moment before clearing. “Oh my. Yes indeed. Will a handkerchief do? I brought several new ones I’d just completed.”

Mary gave her friend a hug. “Perfect. Bring them all. We’ll probably need them.” She donned her hat and pelisse. “Let’s be off.”

When they arrived in the hotel’s yard, the carriages were waiting.

No curricles this time. They couldn’t afford to become dirty before the wedding.

The ladies took the largest one, and in no time at all they were on their way, and crossing the bridge into Coldstream.

The coaches pulled up at the western entrance of an old, gray stone church.

Mary took out the necklace, fastening it around her aunt’s neck. “This is for you for to-day. Old, borrowed, and blue.”

“And this”—Anna handed Eunice a handkerchief of fine white work—“is something new. ”

Eunice swallowed and blinked her eyes. “Thank you so very much.”

The carriage opened, and Mr. Doust held out his bare hand. “My lady.”

She removed her gloves, sticking them in her reticule before placing her much smaller hand in his. “Sir.”

One by one, the gentlemen helped their ladies down from the carriage. When it was Mary’s turn, Kit executed a short bow. “Shall we?”

She watched as his fingers closed around her hand, swallowing it. When she looked up, he was smiling. She bit the inside of her cheek. How long would it be before she married? “It’s been a long time since I’ve attended a wedding.”

The corners of his lips quirked up. “In that case you should have your handkerchief ready. It’s my experience ladies express their joy with tears at such events.”

Her brothers would be in a panic at the proposition of a lady crying, even with happiness, yet Kit appeared sanguine. She stepped down to the dirt road. “That doesn’t horrify you?”

“No indeed.” He tucked her hand firmly in the crook of his arm. “Not when they are happy.” He pulled a face. “Now tears of distress are a very different matter. I don’t know a man alive who doesn’t dread them.”

They followed the others through the main door, making their way up the nave to where a sandy-haired gentleman busied himself in front of the sanctuary.

The man straightened as they approached. “Mr. Doust, my lady, welcome.”

“My dear, ladies, gentlemen,” Mr. Doust said, “allow me to introduce Mr. Creelman, who you have probably surmised is the rector.”

Once the remaining introductions were completed, Mr. Creelman asked Doust and Lady Eunice, “Who will be your witnesses?”

Doust glanced at Kit. He nodded. “Lady Mary Tolliver and Mr. Featherton.”

Mary started. She and Eunice hadn’t discussed who’d attend her and her betrothed, but Mary should have expected she would. Still, she’d never acted as a witness and was a little unsure of what to do. Hopefully, the rector would tell her. “I’m happy to. ”

“If everyone else will take their seats,” Mr. Creelman said, “we shall begin.”

Although the service was straight out of the Book of Common Prayer, and the newlyweds took communion, the service seemed rather short to Kit. He supposed his marriage to Mary would be much the same. He found himself looking forward to calling her his wife and hoped she’d soon feel the same.

During the wedding dinner at the hotel, he remained by her side, filling her plate from the numerous offerings at the table, and fetching her drinks.

She had not exaggerated when she’d told him she was not a picky eater, and it pleased him to see her eat what he’d brought.

Once Doust and Lady Eunice retired, the talk turned to Edinburgh.

While they’d been in Coldstream, the messenger, waylaid by one of their footmen, had arrived with Lady Theo’s letter.

Huntley handed Caro his penknife, and she slid it under the seal; spreading the single page out, she quickly perused it and grinned.

“We are all welcome. She is getting the nursery ready as well. She already has a list of entertainments we might be interested in and will make up another list of suitable gentlemen for Mary.”

Kit forced back a growl of frustration. He did not need Lady Theo finding another man for Mary.

Thankfully she’d only blushed and not agreed with the suggestion.

Now though, her eyes sparkled with excitement as Caro recited some of the outings and parties to which Lady Theo had accepted invitations on their behalf.

Kit had thought he’d understood Mary’s desire for a Season; he did have sisters. But looking at her now, he realized he hadn’t fully appreciated how much she looked forward to it. Had he become so jaded with the Season that he’d applied his feelings to her?

For years now, his role was to be the perfect gentleman and guest. After the first few years, he never even flirted with ladies.

How had he fooled himself into thinking he could convince her to marry him with a picnic or two and compliments on her garden?

Perhaps he needed to make his own compilation of what a lady being courted might wish to do, and, if Lady Theo was playing matchmaker, he’d better secure dances and appointments for other entertainments before he and Mary arrived in Edinburgh.

Come what may, he’d ensure Mary had the best Season of her life.

He wondered if any of the ladies had brought a guidebook of the sights a visitor shouldn’t miss in the area.

If not, he’d procure one as soon as they arrived.

It was a brilliant idea, even if he did say so himself.

Whenever they were not at some event or another planned by their hostess, he would keep her busy with him.

There was no way he’d allow some Scottish rogue to take Mary away from him.

Three days later, their caravan entered Edinburgh.

Apparently the only one who’d visited the city before was Maufe, who sat with Huntley’s coachman in the lead carriage.

After winding through streets, they finally pulled up in front of a large town house on a corner of Charlotte Square in the new city.

A footman stationed on the stairs opened the door, and an elderly man dressed in a black suit stepped out and bowed.

He called over his shoulder, and almost immediately, additional footmen poured out of the lower levels of the house.

Several moments later, after the ladies and children had reached the pavement, a tall, elegant, middle-aged lady dressed in the height of fashion, appeared on the step.

Surely this could not be Lady Theo. The woman who tramped through the countryside with her husband, looking at rocks.

Holding out her hands, she grinned broadly.

“Huntley, I’m so happy to welcome you to Edinburgh.

” She glanced next to him. “And this must be Caro. How very pleased I am to meet you, my dear. We had quite despaired of ever finding him a wife.” Lady Theo hugged Caro, then turned to the rest of the assemblage.

“Welcome to my home. Please come in and rest while your maids and valets settle you in. I have a rather large repast waiting to be served to you in the back drawing room and for the children in the nursery.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Mary said quietly. “My stomach has been grumbling for the past hour.”