Marrying Miss Hemingford by Nadia Nichols

back pews who would make no move until their so-called betters had gone.
    Mrs Bartrum rose and set off after them, leaving Anne to follow. She emerged into the sunlight almost side by side with Dr Tremayne. At the church door, the rector stood watching everyone leave, his rheumy eye noting absences that would be pointed out to the miscreants later in the week. He bowed to Lord and Lady Mancroft, who deigned to smile before passing on to chat to others in the churchyard. ‘Dr Tremayne,’ he said, catching sight of Justin. ‘I am glad to see you once again among my flock. It does not set a good example when you absent yourself from church.’
    â€˜I cannot come when I am needed elsewhere,’ Justin said, tight-lipped.
    â€˜Six days shalt thou labour—’ the parson began, but he was not allowed to finish.
    â€˜People fall ill every day of the week, Reverend.’
    â€˜Quite.’ He paused, looking at Anne, who had stoppedwhen Justin stopped. ‘Are you not going to introduce me?’ he asked, still addressing the doctor though his eye was taking in every detail of Anne’s dress and demeanour. ‘It behoves me to know the names of all my flock.’
    Justin had been aware that Anne was standing nearby, how could he not? But the idea that the parson thought she had attended church with him disconcerted him. ‘Reverend, you are mistaken…’
    â€˜I am Miss Hemingford,’ Anne said quickly. ‘My aunt, Mrs Bartrum, has taken a house in Brighton for the summer.’ She nodded towards her aunt, now in animated conversation with Lady Mancroft, the curling black feather on her bonnet wagging in time with her jaw.
    â€˜Oh, I see my error. I beg your pardon, Miss Hemingford.’
    â€˜There has been no error, Reverend,’ she said, slipping her hand beneath Justin’s elbow. ‘We are friends of Dr Tremayne. Please excuse us.’ And with that, she put enough pressure on Justin’s arm to make him walk forward.
    â€˜Why did you do that?’ he protested, obeying the tug of her hand because he was too much the gentleman to embarrass her in front of the parson.
    â€˜Who does he think he is, preaching to you?’ she demanded in a whisper. ‘Looking down at you like that. Why, you have more good in your little finger than he has in his whole body.’
    â€˜The Reverend and I fight a verbal duel whenever we meet,’ he said, half-pleased, half-miffed at her championing of him. ‘I am not a kitten who needs a mother cat to defend it.’
    She released his arm and laughed. ‘I did not think you did, but I enjoyed adding my contribution.’
    They joined Mrs Bartrum, who was looking at Anne in astonishment. How could she possibly know someone in Brighton well enough to take his arm in public? It must be an old family friend, chanced upon by accident. She prepared herself to be civil, but made a note to speak to Anne later about her behaviour. ‘Aunt, may I present Dr Tremayne. You remember, I told you about the little girl who was injured. It was to Dr Tremayne I took her.’
    Mrs Bartrum’s welcoming smile faded, but, unwilling to make a scene, she inclined her head in acknowledgement but did not offer her hand or speak. Justin fumed inwardly, blaming Miss Hemingford for the embarrassing situation in which he found himself. A few years before he would have held his own, but not now. He had chosen his path and he had to walk it; if it meant being looked down on by people like Mrs Bartrum and lectured at by parsons, then he had to put up with it. He bowed. ‘Your obedient, ma’am.’ The next minute he had clapped his hat on his head and was striding away.
    â€˜Oh, Aunt, you have frightened him off,’ Anne said.
    â€˜I should think so too! Whatever were you thinking of, taking his arm like that? I really am quite mortified. There is Lady Mancroft with her mouth open in astonishment and Captain