Amanda Scott by Madcap Marchioness

surprise she nodded and looked away first.
    “As you say, Joshua.”
    Lady Hetta said suddenly, “You must have been very sorry, my dear Adriana, to have been married without your father by you to give you into Joshua’s keeping, but I daresay that with everything happening so quickly, there was no alternative.”
    “Such haste,” Lady Adelaide interjected before Adriana could reply to this abrupt statement, “as well as the fact that you were married from your brother’s house, Adriana, indicates that you must have been married without banns.”
    Adriana smiled at her. “For that, you must blame my brother, Alston, ma’am. He insisted upon a special license, you see. I daresay,” she added with a smile, “he wished to be rid of me quickly, once he had found someone willing to marry me.”
    “It was I who suggested the special license, sweetheart,” Chalford said. “I am an impatient man, so once I discovered there was no thought of your father’s attending the ceremony, I’m afraid the notion of waiting three whole weeks before being allowed to claim you for my own became intolerable.”
    “Waiting three weeks to get back to Thunderhill is more the case,” Lady Hetta said, chuckling. “We know, for Lydia wrote in her last letter, ages ago, that you had had your fill of London.”
    Adriana, who had glowed at her husband’s words, experienced deflation at Lady Hetta’s. She looked at Chalford now, keenly. “I am sure Alston said he’d decided upon a special license in order that we might be married from the house instead of at the church. ’Twas too public at Saint George’s, he said.”
    “Yes, he said that,” Chalford agreed, “but we both wanted the matter finished quickly, and banns do take three weeks.”
    “Banns are common,” declared Lady Adelaide. “To have one’s name shouted out in church three weeks running … Well, no person of gentle breeding could wish for such a thing. Much better, too, to have had the ceremony in a private house where one is not subjected to the stares of strangers. You did right, Chalford. I am pleased with you.”
    Adriana looked searchingly at her husband. “Did you truly wish only to get home quickly, sir?”
    He returned her look. “I always wish to get home, sweetheart, and this time more than ever. After all, I was bringing you with me, was I not? To kick our heels in London once the business was agreed upon seemed absurd when to avoid such a course would take no more than the greasing of a fist or two.”
    “You make the special license sound like a bribe.”
    “Well, is it anything less? One pays handsomely for the privilege of being married in one’s own good time, outside the church. I agree with Aunt Adelaide, in that I should not have liked hearing my name or yours shouted out in public, nor would I have liked our being gawked at by the common mob, which is what would have happened had we been married at Saint George’s. A special license was more sensible, all ’round.”
    Adriana was silent, scarcely listening as Lady Henrietta hastened to assure her that Chalford spoke the truth, that she would not have liked the publicness of banns or a church wedding either. Adriana didn’t believe for a moment that such factors had anything to do with anything. Lady Hetta had been right before in saying that he had merely wished to get home.
    Though Miranda had insisted that Chalford had fallen head over ears in love, and though Adriana had been given more than one reason to hope that might be the case, it was not. He had simply found a wife, a suitable mistress for Thunderhill. The fact of the matter was, she decided, that she had married a man who was already married to his home. Prying him out of a castle that came first in importance with him was going to prove a major undertaking and no mistake, but prying him out was becoming hourly more important if she was not to be buried alive there.
    “May one ask how many we are to expect?” asked Lady