PROLOGUE

“. . . is not to be entered into unadvisedly, nor lightly; but reverently, deliberately . . .” the vicar intoned, his voice ringing in stony, rebuking echoes from the transept of St. George’s of the village of Anglesgreen.

Now they bloody tell me, Lt. Alan Lewrie thought in anguish!

“. . . and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God,” the vicar continued, casting a chary eye upon the couple before him, which made Alan almost wilt. He directed his gaze to his right, where Caroline stood flushed and trembling, ready to faint with joy, and the smile she bestowed upon him at that moment was so radiant, so shudderingly glorious, that he found himself quaking as well, not completely in terror of his bachelor-hood’s demise.

“Into this Holy Union, Alan Lewrie, gentleman, and Caroline Chiswick, spinster, now come to be joined. If any of you assembled may show cause why they may not be lawfully married, speak now; or else forever after hold your peace,” the vicar warned, wincing at the words, as if he expected the Hon. Harry Embleton to charge through the doors at the back of the nave on horseback with sword in hand. The crowd . . . a devilish thin crowd, Alan noted . . . fairly bristled and stirred, and a sigh or two, a grumbly cough could be heard.

“I require and charge you both, here in the presence of God, that if either of you know any reason why you may not be united in matrimony lawfully, and in accordance with God’s Word, you do now confess it,” the reverend rushed on in breathy relief.

The tiniest quirk of a smile touched Alan’s lips, in spite of his best intentions, as he mulled over his passionate, albeit brief, “marriage” to a Cherokee/Muskogee Indian girl named Soft Rabbit, and wondered if it counted. No, he sighed, no benefit of proper clergy there, he thought; no way out. Damme, and my enthusiasms for quim!

How do I get myself into these predicaments, Alan groaned.

“Caroline, will you have this man to be your lawful husband, to live together in the covenant of marriage?” the vicar inquired, not without what to Alan seemed a cocked brow in amazement. “Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto him as long as you both shall live?”

“I will,” Caroline declared without a pause with a tremulous eagerness and vigor, delivering upon Lewrie once more a visage of pure adoration.

“Alan,” the vicar intoned, rounding upon him, and to Alan’s already fevered senses seeming to frown the slightest bit, “will you have this woman to be your lawful wife . . . ?”

Forsake all others? Lewrie shivered. Bloody, bloody hell! Be faithful as long as we both . . . I say, hold on, there! Mine arse on a bandbox! The solemnity crushed in upon him then, and he like as not would have torn out the doors, if his legs would have shown any sign of strength beyond holding him shudderingly upright.

Yet found himself declaring for all time, “I will,” with a force born on a quarter-deck that echoed off the ancient stones like a pronouncement of doom.

There was a tentative Giving In Marriage by Uncle Phineas, in his role of paterfamilias for the Chiswicks, before the vicar ordered “Let us pray” and they could thump to their weak knees upon the pad before the altar. And as the vicar recited the short prayer of blessing before the Lesson and Epistle, and the vows proper, Caroline insinuated a slim, cool and soft hand into his and their fingers entwined to squeeze reassurance and strength.

There was no backing out now, Alan thought; in for the penny, in for the pound, ain’t I? Ye Gods, it may not be that bad—I do care for her, well as a rogue like me may care for anyone. I might even call it love. Much as I know what that’s all about!

He returned her squeeze, and they secretly leaned their shoulders against each other, and he became enveloped in the light, citrony scent of her Hungary Water perfume again.