When she was just tying on her wide brown bonnet, Patrick returned with buns in-hand. "All right. Matters are settled and the blacksmith will see us just as soon as we're ready."

She paused halfway through looping her bow. "Oh! Do you still…" After his pleading with her to go back to London, she had assumed their arrangement was off the table.

He froze, half-bent over his luggage. "I thought you wanted…"

"With going back to London, I just assumed…" She shrugged.

"Well, if you still wish to, we could…" He shrugged.

"Of course, yes. My motivations haven't entirely changed." For the first time, the sentiment left an odd taste in her mouth.

"Excellent. Good. Then we should go," he concluded, rubbing his hands together.

"Yes. Yes, we should," she agreed, and took his arm.

They ate their rolls on the short walk from Mrs. Gaveston's to the long, white, slope-roofed smithy where weddings were traditionally performed, judging by a hand painted sign out front. Amelia was grateful for each bite and nursed them in turn so that she wouldn't have to talk. But when they came up the lane and turned into the smithy's drive, another couple was just going in and her bread was gone. They would have to wait.

She dared a glance at Patrick, who was already staring back. He wiggled his brows, and she managed a pursed-lip smile in answer.

"Nervous?" he whispered after a moment.

"Yes!" she whispered back. "You?"

"As much as any man, I suppose."

"Not a very romantic sentiment," she grumbled.

Patrick winced his apology.

This was not how she'd imagined her wedding day. It didn't have to be at the base of an ancient waterfall, officiated by a tartan-clad chieftain, her dress made of antique white linen. But it didn't have to be a hurried convenience, either.

A smith's hammer striking his anvil, signaling that another couple had solemnized their union, startled her, and she darted a step back. "I've changed my mind."

"What!" Patrick shook his head and craned in, hand cupped to his ear.

"I've changed my mind. I don't want to do this. You are still welcome to your money, for all your trouble, but I've changed my mind." She braced for annoyance, outrage, but he smiled.

"Then so have I." He took her hand, and she exhaled the tension from her chest. "We can catch the earlier stage, in that case. Would you like to start back?"

"I would," she said, surprised, letting him lead her back toward the public house. "I didn't imagine so, but I would."




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