A Lily Among Thorns(34)

The rector looked up. He was a tall, thin man in his middle sixties, with an extremely incompetent tailor. “For a pretty young lady like yourself? Certainly.” He gave an avuncular chuckle.

Serena giggled behind her fan. Solomon looked at her in surprise. She was dimpling and ducking her head, so he couldn’t see her eyes. “Well, you see, sir, I want to get my sister an anniversary gift, but I can’t remember what day she was married, and I do so want it to be a surprise. She was married here last year, so I thought if I could just see the register—”

The rector smiled. “Of course. I’m sure your sister will be very pleased.”

“I hope so. Oh, but I’m being rude! My name is Elizabeth Jeeves, and this is my fiancé, David Burbank.”

The rector bowed over her proffered hand. “Charles Waddell.” He led them to a small back room, where an oak lectern held a slim leather book with “St. Andrew of the Cross Register” inked across the front. On the shelf below, older registers were stacked in an untidy pile.

“Oh, good!” Serena walked toward the lectern. Halfway there, she stopped and put a hand on her stomach. “Oh,” she said in a very different tone of voice. “Mr. Burbank—” Her other hand fluttered toward him and she swayed.

“Miss Jeeves!” Solomon rushed forward and put his arm around her waist.

She leaned into him and gripped his lapel. She still smelled like almonds, just as she had all those years ago.

“Are you all right?” he asked, remembering at the last second to broaden the Shropshire in his own voice.

She smiled weakly up at him. “It’s nothing. Not even as bad as yesterday. I don’t think I shall”—she glanced down in embarrassment—“I don’t think I shall be sick. I’d just like to sit down for a bit, if I may.” She grimaced queasily.

Solomon turned to Mr. Waddell. “Is there a chair you could bring in here?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” The rector bustled out. He was soon back again with a hard wooden bench.

Solomon helped Serena sit. She clung to his sleeve in a way that made him swallow rather hard. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m so sorry. It’s very silly of me to be always—”

“Not at all,” Solomon said firmly. “I’ll just stay here with you for a while, and when you feel better, we can look at the register and find your sister.”

Serena threw him a look of adoration. “You’re so good to me! But I won’t hear of it. This is a lovely old church and there’s no reason you can’t see some more of it. I shall just rest here for a while and you shall come back and find me when you’ve taken a look at those delightful windows. You can show Mr. Burbank the stained glass, can’t you, Mr. Waddell?”

The rector frowned. “Of course I can, Miss Jeeves. But are you sure you’ll be all right alone?”

Serena nodded. “I just feel ill some days. It’s nothing, really.”

Mr. Waddell’s eyes narrowed. Solomon wondered yet again why they hadn’t simply pretended to be married. With considerably less enthusiasm than he had shown before, the rector gestured to Solomon to precede him out of the room.

“Oh, Mr. Burbank, won’t you give me a kiss before you go?”

Solomon stared at Serena. She tilted up her head invitingly, and her gray eyes shimmered. It would serve her right if he shoved his tongue in her mouth. Instead he leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t forget to talk as loudly as possible,” she whispered in his ear.

Solomon smiled insincerely. She hadn’t needed to remind him yet again. He already had a plan. He had formed it the moment they walked through the door. “Here, my dear,” he said solicitously, pulling a small Bible off a nearby shelf and handing it to her. “I wouldn’t want you to be bored. Why don’t you occupy yourself in reading Scripture while you wait for the reverend and me to return? May I recommend Proverbs Thirty-one to your attention? It speaks most eloquently of the duties of a virtuous wife.”

Well, she needed something to pass the time until she was sure they were out of earshot. Idly, Serena opened the little Bible and turned to Proverbs. A number of them sounded familiar. She pictured Solomon as a little boy, memorizing the words of his namesake, and smiled.

From the front of the church, the organist began to practice. Good. That would nicely cover any sound she had to make.

Solomon had looked so put-upon when the rector decided they had been anticipating their vows. Pretending morning sickness had been the easiest way to convince him there was no need for a doctor. She knew it would have made more sense—and offended Solomon’s sensibilities less—to simply pretend to be married, but somehow she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. She was close enough to married as it was.