“Well,” said Felicity, gesturing toward her husband. “Carlo can officially solemnize the marriage and write it in the book here, so you’ll have a more official certificate. Would you like that?”
Rosalind turned to Marlow, hating that their intimate, private marriage was being called into question. “We were married,” she said.
“There is no certificate, though?”
At her father’s gruff question, she felt Marlow’s hand tighten around her fingers. “It was written in the parish book,” he said.
“A parish book in Santa Maria Wherever is not much use to us here.”
“We will have a second wedding,” her mother said, too brightly. “Why not, now that we are all gathered together? And when we return to London, we can put it about that the two of you chose to marry in Tuscany so your sister could be present. It will explain to the ton why you were both absent last season.”
At that moment, her brother Townsend appeared, looking as if he’d come straight from a ride. “You’re alive?” he exclaimed. After taking her in, he strode toward Marlow. “Very well, since it gives me the chance to kill you myself.”
“Edward, darling,” her mother said. “We are having a civilized talk.”
“Civilized?” He stared at Marlow, nose to nose, their gazes both hot. Rosalind thought she’d never seen her brother this angry.
“Leave him alone,” she said. Her voice sounded too shrill. “All of you leave him alone or we shall run to India in truth and never come back.”
“I don’t need you to defend me.” He didn’t scold, but his words were firm. He turned back to Townsend. “If you wish for satisfaction—”
“Gentlemen,” August pleaded. “Sit and have some tea.”
“We’re going to have a wedding.” Her mother went to Townsend, commanding his attention. “A second one, actually, for your sister and Marlow have already married.”
“You’ll allow this elopement, then?” Townsend looked set to murder his new brother-in-law. “How dare you kidnap my sister? I’ll have your head for it, or else your honor—”
“Enough.” Her father’s voice silenced further threats. “We’ve heard the entire story in your absence,” he told Townsend. “And while I do believe Marlow improperly inflamed your sister’s affections, it was Rosalind’s choice to book passage on the Providence and run away. At this point there’s nothing to be done, except to thank God the two of them aren’t lying on the ocean floor along with the ship.”
Her mother made a soft sound of grief. Her father approached Marlow and, after regarding him in his lofty way for a long, fraught moment, extended his hand. “Thank you for bringing her back to us. You were instrumental in helping her survive…” His throat worked a moment as he shook Marlow’s hand, then he composed himself. “Helping her survive this entire ordeal. For that, we will always be grateful. You have always been part of our family, Viscount Marlow, almost like another son to me. I welcome you now as a son-in-law.”
Marlow held his regard. Rosalind felt a surge of pride in the way he retained his dignity. Her husband. Her love.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” he replied. “I swear I shall never cease trying to better myself, to be worthy of her.”
You are worthy, she wanted to cry. New tears sprang to her eyes. You’re already worthy. Why won’t you see it?
Under the duke’s expectant gaze, Townsend also extended a conciliatory handshake to Marlow, though his eyes still burned dark.
“We shall excuse the women to begin planning a wedding,” her father said. “And we gentlemen shall remain and hear the entirety of your adventures again, perhaps in more detail now that Townsend has joined us.”
“If you wish, Your Grace.”
“No need to Your Grace me now that you’re part of the family,” said her father. “Truly part of it, by marriage.”
Marlow nodded, then turned to Rosalind and gave her hand a squeeze. She wanted him to kiss her, but this was not the time, when he’d only just earned her parents’ acceptance. If they must have a second marriage to pacify everyone, so be it, but for Rosalind their real marriage would always be the intimate ceremony beside the fire with the Maria Reginas and the smiling priest, when she and Marlow had still been reeling from their close brush with death.
“Go with the ladies,” he said. “I’ll relate our adventures one more time, then do my best to forget them.”
“Be sure to emphasize your heroics.”
Her staunch, affectionate words brought a smile, and then a small kiss after all, placed upon her forehead. It felt oddly intimate. Of all the people in this room, only they would know their real experiences during that stormy night, and the sinking…and everything they had gone through since.
*
She, her mother, and Felicity retired to a sunny solar with brick walls and vases of pretty flowers. Jane joined them shortly after, having been kept away from the original confrontation by her husband, who did not wish his pregnant wife to become upset.
“He was not too much of a hothead?” she asked, gazing apologetically at Rosalind.