Knocking on the door to Lucian’s room, he was greeted by the grim faced doctor
with one eyebrow raised. The older gentleman stepped into the hallway to speak
with him.
“He won’t make it through the night
at this rate,” the doctor bleakly replied in hushed tones.
“He keeps demanding I locate a woman
for him to marry. We must discover a way to put his mind at ease.”
“There is a woman of good birth
downstairs. I have been begging her to come and see him, but she desires your
permission.”
“Lord Berkshire, if she is a woman
of any birth, she will not accept his proposition.”
“Only a few years ago all marriages
were arranged by parents, and frequently brides did not meet their husbands
until their wedding nights. What is wrong with such a proposition as this?
After all, if they do not suit, they will not have long to endure each other’s
company.”
“Where will you find a marriage
license at this hour, so it will be recognized and not in vain? It would be a
shame to put the poor girl through such an ordeal only for her to discover she
received nothing out of it.”
“I do not fear the highwaymen. I can
make it to the bishop and back before first light. If old Bailey sends for a
clergymen and my solicitor, we can convene here on the morrow.”
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