Dancing at Midnight

Emma darted back down the stairs, grabbed her husband by the hand, and asked Persephone to begin at the piano. She and Alex met Belle at the top of the landing just as Persephone began thumping away.

"Good God," Alex said as the cacophony assaulted his ears. "Is that Beethoven?"

"I could have sworn I asked for Bach," Belle said, furrowing her brow.

"I don't think it's Bach, either," Alex said. "I don't think it's anything."

"We can only hope she doesn't start to sing," Emma said. She shot her cousin one last smile before she headed down the stairs as matron of honor.

"She could hardly do worse than you," Alex jibed.

Belle looked at her cousin who was already halfway down the stairs. "I don't think she heard you," she whispered.

"That's probably a blessing. Shall we go?" Alex offered her his arm. "I believe it's our turn."

As they floated down the stairs, past all of the pink and white roses Belle had specially ordered, her nervousness and disappointment over the hastiness of her wedding melted away, and all that was left was a deep sense of contentment and joy. Each step took her closer to the man she loved, the man whose life would soon become inextricably linked with her own. When she turned into the drawing room and saw him standing next to the priest, his eyes glowing with pride and desire, it was all she could do not to run headlong into his arms.

She and Alex finally reached the front of the room, and he placed her hand on John's arm and stepped away.

"Dearly beloved!" Mr. Dawes barked. Alcoholic fumes swept across Belle's face. She coughed discreetly and took a tiny step back.

Persephone missed her cue and kept banging away at the piano, enjoying herself immensely. Dawes turned to her with obvious irritation and yelled, "I said, 'Dearly Beloved!' "

Persephone's musical thumps died a slow and painful death.

Belle took advantage of Dawes's momentary distraction to whisper to John, "Are you sure he's a man of God?"

John bit back a smile. "Quite sure."

Dawes turned back to the couple. "As I was saying-Dearly beloved." He blinked a few times and surveyed the scant crowd. "Or rather," he muttered, "perhaps I should say the three of you."

Belle couldn't help herself. "There are four guests, if you please."

"I beg your pardon."

"I said," she ground out. "There are four guests. I realize that this is an irregular wedding, but I'd like to be credited with all four of my guests." She could feel John next to her, shaking with silent laughter.-

Dawes was not the type to give in easily to what he saw as a mere slip of a girl, especially after he'd been fortified with five glasses of fine brandy. "I see three."

"There are four."

His finger jabbed at Alex, then Emma, then Dunford. "One-two-three!"

"Four!" Belle finished with a triumphant motion toward Persephone who was watching with obvious fascination and mirth from the piano.

At this point Dunford exploded with loud laughter, which set off Emma and Alex, who had heretofore managed to keep themselves under control. Dawes grew quite red in the face and said, " She is the piano player."

"She's my guest."

"Oh, all right, you impertinent little chit," he grumbled, mopping his brow with a limp handkerchief. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here before four witnesses…"

The ceremony continued with blessed unevent-fulness for several minutes. John could hardly believe his luck. Just a few more minutes, he thought, and they'd exchange vows and rings, and then she'd be his for all of eternity. Fairly bursting with joy and impatience, he forced himself to resist the urge to shake the voluble priest and get him to speak faster. He knew that he was supposed to be savoring every moment of the ceremony, but what he really wanted was to be done with it all and retreat to some hideaway where he could be alone with his bride for the next week.

John's hopes for a speedy ceremony, however, were dashed when he heard the front door to the house slam open with a resounding crash. Dawes looked at him in askance, and he nodded curtly, signaling that the ceremony should proceed.

Dawes fumbled forward even as heavy footsteps came crashing toward them through the hall. Determined not to interrupt again, Belle kept her eyes scrupulously forward, but John was unable to keep himself from turning around as a dark-haired young man burst into the room. His eyes were so blue that he could only be Belle's brother.

"Good God!" Ned Blydon exclaimed, jumping over a sofa. "Have you gotten to the part about objections yet?"

"Er, no," Dawes said, his bulbous nose glowing red in the candlelight. "We haven't."

"Good." Ned grabbed Belle's free hand and dragged her away from the makeshift altar. "Do you know what you're doing?" he hissed. "Who is this man? Do you know anything about him? What is going on? And how dare you send me a note saying only that you're getting married the next day? What were you thinking?"

Belle waited patiently throughout his tirade. "Which question do you want me to answer first?"

"Look here!" Dawes boomed. "Is this marriage going forward or not? I've got-"

"It's on," John said in a deadly voice.

"I'm a busy man," Dawes spluttered. "I've got-"

"Mr. Dawes," Dunford interrupted smoothly, flaying him with a devastating smile. "I must apologize for this interruption. It is scandalous that a man of your stature should be treated thus. Won't you join me in a glass of brandy while this matter is cleared up?"