Gingerbread Bride

Chapter Twelve

Rick needed the time on his own to recover. Mary felt every bit as good in his arms as he had imagined, and her state of undress disclosed a shapely form to which the high-waisted fashions did not do justice. Thinking about the blush that had covered every inch of skin he could see, and clearly carried on where he desperately wished to see, was not helping him calm himself.

Think of something else. Anything. Ah. Here was the perfect distraction—Bosville, rounding the corner and stopping to gape at Rick, the tower, the ladder, and again at Rick.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Waiting for Miss Rumbold, Bosville. She is in the tower, but I'm expecting her to join me."

"But... but my cousin, Mary..."

Rick chose to take that as a question. "Miss Pritchard? She went that way." He pointed down the path.

Bosville opened, then shut, his mouth and hurried away down the path.

Moments later, several other people rounded the house: Dr. and Mrs. Wren and several of the students. "Come along, Theo," said Dr. Wren impatiently. "That young pup insisted on us seeing the surprise in the summerhouse."

Rick and a somewhat-rumpled Mary joined on the tail of the group, and arrived at the summerhouse to find Miss Rumbold in Bosville's arms, her dress drooping to display a naked shoulder and quite a lot of her chemise.

"What, young Bosville, is the meaning of this?" demanded Dr. Wren.

"She just... I just..." Bosville glared at Miss Rumbold in a far from lover-like manner. Clearly, she had decided a viscount in the hand was worth more than a cautious sailor in the bush. "What Lord Bosville is trying to say, Dr. Wren, Mrs. Wren, is that he has asked for my hand in marriage, and I have accepted."

"That isn't... that is to say..." Bosville started, but Dr. Wren shook his hand, Mrs. Wren kissed them both and said she would write immediately to Bosville's mother, and the students declared tonight's Christmas celebration should also be a betrothal party.

"Bosville does not look happy," Rick whispered to Mary.

"How awful Enid is," Mary replied. "I don't like cousin Bosville, but to trap him!"

"They intended to trap us both," Rick pointed out. "They were in it together. She locked you in the tower, and he sent me to the summerhouse."

He had little sympathy for the viscount, and even less as the day wore on. Bosville, at least, had secured a bride, if not the one he intended, but Rick couldn't find even a moment alone with Mary.

She was everywhere, always busy, always in company. More of the Wren offspring arrived, with spouses and children, all delighted to meet Mary, the cousin whose letters from far-flung places had enlivened their lives for many years. She was in demand in the kitchen, where she was making and icing gingerbread shapes for the party supper. She was involved in the last of the decorating.

He gave up, and decided to move his baggage to the inn where he was booked for the night.

"Rick? Are you leaving?" Mary. She stopped in the parlor doorway.

"I'll be back for the party, Mary, but I'll leave from the inn in the morning. My father expects me in London tomorrow night. Mary? Will you walk into Oxford with me?"

Just then, Mrs. Wren and two of her daughters came down the stairs.

"Mary, dear, would you help with the kissing bough in the garden? Lieutenant Redepenning, you're off to the inn? What time do you expect to be back, dear?"