The Vicar's Wife

19*

Forsythe was pacing a hole in his carpeting, having been up and dressed since dawn. Continually his eyes went toward the forest separating Highland from the Foster house. Today was the day he became a husband, but all he could do was think about Hannibal Newton. When would the man show himself? Other than a few instances of poached chickens, there had been no indication of his presence.

"Worry will do you no good, Jon." Wentworth was sipping a cup of tea, staring outside. "When he shows himself, we will be there."

"It is the uncertainty of 'when' that has me so restless."

"I have men scouring the woods and roads for him," the duke explained for the dozenth time. "We will not stop until he is found."

"I almost wish he would just get it over with." Pacing to the window Forsythe glanced outside with a scowl. "What is he waiting for?"

"I'm hardly qualified to know the mind of a man like that." Green eyes studied his companion's face briefly. "Are you certain you don't want me at the ceremony? He's just as likely to show up there than not."

"I'd be more comfortable knowing you were on hand to prevent his appearance entirely, should it become necessary."

"I take your trust in my abilities as a compliment."

"As much as it pains me to say it, I am counting on you, Wentworth." He softened it with an amused smile. The duke snorted into his tea.

"High praise," straightening his jacket, Wentworth picked up his hat. "I'm off. Congratulations, Jon. Truly."

"Thank you, my lord." They shook, the vicar watching as his companion strode out to his waiting horse, mounting with easy grace. A hand lifted in a brief wave before he rode off. Forsythe breathed a sigh of relief, trusting his friend to ensure nothing interrupted the festivities. "Godspeed."

All too soon the moment arrived. The guests were seated, pews full, Forsythe waiting at the altar as Hattie walked down the aisle toward him. The hush over the guests was complete, for she was radiant. Snowy white muslin made her gleam like spun gold, sky-blue eyes sparkling as polished gems. Reaching his side, she took the hand he held out with a dazzling smile, and they faced the clergyman together.

Truthfully, Hattie's mind wandered during the droll speech that followed but managed to focus her thoughts on time for the vows. Her dearest Forsythe held her hand, gazing into her eyes as he intoned his oath, slipping the ring onto her finger.

"With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

The golden band sparkling on her finger fit perfectly, her heart nearly bursting with joy as she gazed at it. She dutifully repeated her own vows, then stood quietly as they took holy communion, and listened as scripture on marriage was recited. As the final prayer was said, Hattie was nearly trembling in excitement to be free of the stuffy environment, and alone with her beloved Forsythe. Her husband!

When the register book was turned toward them, she watched her husband sign it, then elegantly bent forward. Her flowing script was a beautiful testament to her new position in life. Harriet Alice Forsythe. Glancing at him, the couple shared a silent moment of triumph then he took her hand, gently tugging her toward the door. She followed willingly.

Lord Wentworth had already paid the clergyman for services, as part of his wedding gift to them, leaving the couple free to exit the church hand in hand. As customary, neither looked at the guests, ducking heads a birdseed rained down on them, tossed from happy hands as loud cheers filled the air.