*
As he enteredthe dark portico of the church with Susan on his arm, Griff was preoccupied. His own restraint amazed him. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d thrust inside a woman whilst in a moving carriage—an acrobatic and surprisingly erotic experience as he recalled. He’d simply derived more satisfaction from watching Susan respond to his touch. Who would have thought a passionate woman lurked beneath the bluestocking veneer? The anticipation of what they might do later rendered the waiting that much more—what was the word?
Difficult.
However, he was confident that claiming Susan would be worth the wait. Some things had to be lingered over, savored.
He chuckled, thinking how proud his parents would be that he seemed finally to be thinking like a mature adult.
“My mother would have loved you,” he declared as they explored the dingy corridor of offices behind the main church, looking for the parson.
They eventually encountered a tall, gangly young man Susan introduced as Reverend Whitworth, the curate.
“Call me Stephen,” he gushed, nigh on crushing Griff’s hand when he learned the identity of Susan’s companion.
“Is Canon Parr about?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, he’s away giving the last rights to an elderly parishioner. May I be of help?”
“Lady Susan and I wish to marry in your church,” Griff explained, acknowledging Susan’s restraint in deferring to him.
“Splendid,” Whitworth exclaimed half-heartedly after briefly frowning at Griff, clearly taken off guard by the notion any man would wish to wed a woman well-known locally for her views on the shortcomings of all men everywhere.
“We’d like the first reading of the banns to take place next week,” Griff added, surprising himself and Susan if her wide-eyed response was an indication.
“I’m sure there’ll be no problem,” Whitworth replied, gesturing for them to sit on two wooden chairs in his cramped office. “Subject, of course, to Canon Parr’s approval.”
He removed a leather-bound ledger from a nearby shelf, dipped a quill in the ink well, fanned away the dust motes that flew into the air when he opened the ledger, and asked, “May I ask your full name, my lord?”
“Griffith Clifton Halliwell, third Earl of Pendlebury, son of the late William Clifton Halliwell and Alice Griffiths, born 24thof March, 1792 at Clifton Heights, Lancashire.”
Pride and sorrow filled his heart as he recited his pedigree. The warmth of Susan’s hand squeezing his and the admiration glowing in her eyes finally swept away all doubts like chaff on the wind.
With painstaking pen strokes, Whitworth scratched the information into the ledger, then read it back.
“I’m sure we have all your pertinent details here, Lady Susan,” he said, patting the ledger. “There’ll be no question as to your ancestry.” He cleared his throat. “And spinster status.”
Griff bristled, though he supposed the curate was correct. His name and rank would have to be verified, but the young man didn’t have to blush so deeply when mentioning Susan’s unwed status.
“The Earl of Farnworth can vouch that my fiancé is who he says he is,” Susan declared, cutting to the heart of the matter.
“Good,” the red-faced curate replied. “He can perhaps drop by and meet with Canon Parr.”
Susan was predictably having none of that. “I suggest, Stephen, that you make an appointment to see the earl at Thicketford Manor at the earliest opportunity.”
“Of course,” Whitworth agreed. “Thoughtless of me. So, we’ll set a date for the ceremony, shall we?”
“The week after the third reading of the banns,” Griff replied.
Afternoon Delights
After leaving St.John’s, Susan and Griff strolled arm in arm to Carr and Sons tailoring shop, sharing amused remarks about the curate. Susan noticed the wide-eyed stares of several passersby. “People are wondering who you are,” she told him. “And how it is I’m on the arm of a gorgeous man like you.”
“Let them gawk,” he replied. “We make a handsome couple.”
Unsure what to do with a compliment from a male, she stored it up in her heart.
Carr greeted them with his usual effusive politeness, assuring Griff the items he had ordered were almost ready.