Three days aboard the Magnanime before docking in Scotland. Greg had watched Bella paint, so engrossed in the beauty of the ocean. He may never see the world through an artist’s eyes, but the world he did see featured the most beautiful artist ever born, and it was a sight he would never tire of. Traveling suited her. The smallest things – a craggy shore, a friendly seagull, the colors of the sunset on the horizon – all captured her interest and lit her eyes with a sparkle that warmed his heart.

She wanted to see Paris and Florence and probably a hundred different places, and Greg wanted to go with her to watch her experience the world, watch her recreate what she saw on her canvas. He was, simply put, the luckiest man to ever live.

As the barque docked north of Edinburgh at the port of Leith, Captain Bellamy stood on deck, flashing his toothless smile. “Once you finish your business, milord, we’ll set sail back for London.”

The business of eloping, though the sea captain thought the journey had something to do with investors in the Scottish city. But Greg nodded in thanks. “We will be as quick as we are able, Captain.”

“Take your time,” the man said as he glanced in Bella’s direction. “I know how Lady Avery likes to see everything.”

“She does, indeed,” Greg agreed. Then he offered Bella his hand and headed off the merchant ship onto dry land.

They hailed a hack at the docks and headed south to Morningside. Bella snuggled against Greg and he draped his arm around her shoulders. Happiness radiated from her and Greg never wanted the feeling to end. It would soon enough, he knew that. Just as soon as they returned to England, the peace and tranquility they’d found upon the Magnanime would come to an end, unless he could find a way to stave that off somehow.

“Scotland is beautiful, isn’t it?” Bella asked.

Greg bit back a smile. “Everything is beautiful through your eyes, my love.” The world would be a much better place if everyone saw it the way she did. And then an idea came to him, an idea he felt certain Bella would love. “But nothing in the world is as beautiful as you.”

She tipped her head up slightly to see him. “You only say that because you love me.”

Oh, he did indeed. More so every day, which he hadn’t even known was possible. “We probably should send a few notes back to London to keep anyone from fretting about us.”

Bella agreed with a nod. “I’m certain Prissa is beside herself with worry.”

“And probably Cordie as well.” Though his sister would be overjoyed to learn of their elopement. “I’ll ask her to post a notice in The Times. Nothing Chatham will be able to do once a public announcement is made.”

It wasn’t long before the hired coach rambled to a stop before the Maiden and the Doe pub, which looked as though it might have been around since the Reformation. It was still slightly surreal that they’d traveled all this way on Haversham’s suggestion, and the place was exactly where the marquess had said.

Greg quickly hopped from the hack before helping Bella find her feet, then he paid the driver his fare. “Let’s go find this McCloskey fellow, shall we?” he said, offering Bella his arm.

“Let’s.” A beautiful smile settled on her lips and Greg somehow managed not to sigh.

They stepped inside the pub, which was more than a little raucous, and Greg towed Bella slightly closer to him. Haversham hadn’t mentioned the place would be teaming with brigands.

They might not be brigands, but they all had a fairly swarthy look about them and seemed less than friendly. Best find Haversham’s friend and leave the Maiden and the Doe just as quickly as they were able, as Greg didn’t like the look in any of these Scotsmen’s eyes.

A fellow behind the bar was pouring a bit of ale and Greg called to him, “Pardon me. I’m looking for McCloskey.”

The room fell silent as the barkeep glanced up from his duty and…

Dear God, what had happened to the man’s face? It looked as though half of it had been melted off at some point. Bella gasped softy, and Greg tightened his hold on her once more.

“What are ye wantin’ with McCloskey?” the disfigured man asked.

Greg cleared his throat. “I was told he’d be here. We have a friend in common.” Friend was more than a stretch, but Greg wasn’t sure how else to explain the situation.

“Aye?” the barkeep asked and started toward Greg. “And who’s this friend of yers?”

“Haver—”

“Kirkburn,” Bella said. “He said to say Kirkburn sent us.”

The man narrowed his eyes on Bella, and Greg wished she hadn’t spoken, even if he had forgotten that part. The fellow’s appearance however was more than jarring.

“Ye’re a friend of Kirkburn’s?” the barkeep asked, sounding more than skeptical.

“He said McCloskley could help us find a vicar, his brother. We are here to be married,” Greg explained.

The barkeep snorted at that. “Hardly sounds like something Kirkburn would worry himself about.”

“You know him?” Greg asked. “You know Kirkburn?”

“Aye.” The barkeep said with a nod. “And like I said, helpin’ a Sassenach couple marry doesna sound like the man I kent.”

It didn’t sound like the man Greg knew Haversham to be either, but that was what had happened. “If you could just point us toward McCloskey,” Greg began.

“Who do ye think ye’ve been talkin’ to, Sassenach?”

“You’re McCloskey?” Greg asked, making certain he understood the man.

“Aye.”

And he meant to say nothing else? Greg shook his head. “Yes, well, Kirkburn said to remind you that you owe him a favor.”

McCloskey pointed to his disfigured face. “’Tis not somethin’ I’m likely to forget.”

What did that mean? Had Haversham melted the man’s face? Greg thought he was going to be sick.

“I’d look like this all over if he hadna saved me.” McCloskey heaved a sigh.

Good God. Haversham had saved the man from that?

“Is there some reason ye canna marry in England?” the barkeep asked before Greg could right his thoughts.

A reason they couldn’t marry in England? There were a number of reasons, not that Greg wanted to get into any of that with the Scot. “Yes, but they’re my own.”

“Fair enough.” McCloskey frowned. Then he turned his attention to a young fellow on a bench at the far end of the pub. “Hamish!” he called. “Take these two Sassenachs to see yer father.”

* * *

Vicar McCloskey’s church was rather quaint, especially in comparison to St. George’s. But Bella wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world. The chapel was only large enough for about fifty people for regular services. Behind the pulpit was a stained glass window with a cross, adorned in the prettiest blue flowers. It was, quite honestly, perfect.

Oh, Bella wished that Prissa and Elliott could be there with her. She wished Cordie and Greg’s brothers could be with them too. And, of course, Papa. She’d fled Chatham House so quickly she hadn’t had a chance to mourn him as she should, but she missed him too. She always would. He might not have sired her, but he’d given her his name, he’d raised her, and he’d loved her and she had loved him despite his flaws.

“Father,” young Hamish McCloskey called and he left Greg and Bella in the main chapel as he started for a back room. Probably the vicar’s office.

Greg took Bella’s hands in his and lifted them to his lips. “You’re not nervous are you?”

Most girls were nervous about their wedding night, but Bella had already enjoyed hers and every night since. So what was there to fear? She shook her head. “Only eager to call myself Lady Avery. I think it has a rather nice ring to it.”

Greg laughed. “Everyone aboard Bellamy’s barque has been calling you that for days.”

Which was true. “But now it will actually be my name.”

“Bella, I’ve had an idea ever since we arrived in Edinburgh.”

“Oh?” she asked.

“I think I will take Simon up on his offer and buy into his shipping company after all.”

“Indeed?” Bella blinked at him. Where in the world had that come from? Greg didn’t seem even remotely interested in his friend’s offer when they were in London.

He nodded. “Actually, I think Simon will be quite put out with me when he learns I’ve absconded with his merchant ship, but he’s the one who’s urged me to return to my reckless ways.”

“We’re absconding with his ship?” Had he lost his mind?

Greg nodded and his green eyes twinkled happily. “I’m going to tell Bellamy that we have to head to Florence to meet with another set of investors.”

“Florence?” Bella’s mouth fell slightly open.

“Didn’t you want to go to Florence?”

She nodded quickly. “Yes, but—”

Greg shrugged. “I think if I am a partner in Heaton and Masters I should be allowed to take my wife to Florence before returning home. And if Heaton and Masters disagree, they can reject my offer once we return to London.”

Bella threw her arms around his neck. “Greg, you are reckless,” she said before peppering kisses across his neck.

“Ah!” came a voice from the front of the chapel. “I see ye are ready to be married.”

Bella dropped her arms from Greg and spun back around. Hamish McCloskey stood near the front pulpit with a man who must be his father. They had the same almond shape to their eyes and the same overly round nose.

“Vicar McCloskey?” Greg asked, linking his arm with Bella’s and leading her toward the two Scots.

“Aye,” the man said, eyeing them both suspiciously. “My son says ye’re here to be wedded.”

“If you would be so kind as to do the honors,” Greg replied.

But Vicar McCloskey frowned slightly. “Any reason ye canna wait for the banns to be read?”

“It would make eloping much more difficult,” Greg said with a grin.

The Scottish vicar did crack a smile at that. “Ye passed Gretna some time back, sir.”

“Indeed,” Greg agreed, “but I am quite happy to make a donation to your parish…”

“No need to add bribery to whatever yer sins are.” The vicar shook his head. Then he glanced at his son. “Go grab Angus. We’ll need both of ye to serve as witnesses.”

As the man’s son hastened from the chapel, Greg offered his hand to the vicar. “Thank you, Mr. McCloskey.”

“My Hamish says yer friend saved my brother’s life. It wouldna be right to turn ye away.” Then he gestured to the doorway to his office. “Ye can come in there and write yer names for me so I doona mess them up.”

Bella released a sigh she didn’t know she was holding. “Thank you, sir.”

The vicar flashed her a smile before he started for the doorway he’d just indicated.

“Actually, Mr. McCloskey,” Greg began, “my bride and I do need to pen a couple of letters. Do you have a bit of foolscap you could let us have?”

Then the vicar laughed. “Foolscap isna cheap, Englishman. For a couple o’ sheets, I’ll let ye make a donation to the parish.”

“Deal,” Greg agreed.

* * *

Three letters written, though it had taken Bella twice as long to write the one to her sister as it had taken Greg to write the ones to Cordie and Simon. However, he was certain she had much more to explain than he did.

Vicar McCloskey glanced at the letters once they were addressed and then looked Greg over as though he was a specimen he hadn’t encountered before. “The Earl of Thurlstone, the Countess of Clayworth and a Lady Priscilla Winslett.”

Greg nodded. “You don’t mind posting them for us?”

The vicar blew out a breath. “I think I’m just startin’ to realize I’m in exalted company.”

“Lord Avery, at your service.”

The vicar snorted. “Lord Avery is a might different from the Gregory Allen Avery ye wrote down on my bit of paper.”

“I’m one in the same,” Greg said.

“My brother’s always fraternizin’ with the wrong sort,” the clergyman complained as he shook his head. “I should’ve kent there was somethin’ odd about ye. Ye are dressed too fancy for common folk.”

“I assure you even lords are not immune to falling in love, Mr. McCloskey.”

The man frowned as he glanced back at the letters in his hand. “This Earl of Thurlstone isna gonna come here lookin’ for her, is he?”

Greg couldn’t help but laugh. “I assure you he won’t.” If the Duke of Chatham knew to look in McCloskey’s church, Greg couldn’t have said the same. But Simon would not do so.

“All right, then let’s get this over with.”

Not the most romantic wedding, but when Greg glanced down at Bella on his arm, he didn’t care in the least. McCloskey could be grumpy and curse Greg through this world and into the next, just so long as he performed the marriage ceremony uniting him with the most wonderful lady in the world first.

The vicar opened his bible and then closed it. “I’d usually read some flowery words, but I’d just as soon be done with ye.”

“By all means,” Greg said. “Let us say our vows and we’ll be on our way.”

Mr. McCloskey tugged a piece of paper out of his pocket and glanced down at it. “All right, do ye, Gregory Allen Avery, take Arabella Grace Winslett to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and cherish ‘til death do ye part?”

“I do.” Greg smiled down at Bella and the soft twinkling of her silver eyes warmed his soul like she always did.

“And do ye, Arabella Grace Winslett, take Gregory Allen Avery, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love, honor and obey ‘til death do ye part?”

Without hesitation, Bella said, “I do.”

McCloskey waved his hand in the air. “Kiss yer bride and then be on yer way, milord.”

And kissing Bella was Greg’s greatest pleasure. He tipped her chin up and brushed the most chaste of kisses upon her lips. He could have kissed her all day, but not there, and he preferred their next set of kisses not be so chaste.

“All right,” McCloskey grumbled. “Ye’re man and wife or lord and lady or whatever ye are. And I will thank ye not to send any of yer friends my way in the future.”

Greg couldn’t help but laugh. He certainly couldn’t imagine any of his friends trekking this far north to be married by an ill-tempered Scottish vicar. “It’ll be our secret.”

Then Greg tucked Bella’s hand in the crook of his arm and led her back outside the church. “Well, Lady Avery, do you feel any different?”

She looked up at him, and then fell into a fit of laughter. “The was the strangest wedding, Greg.”

On that he was in complete agreement. “But we’ll never forget it.”

“No, we will not.” She dabbed at the corner of her eyes as she continued to laugh.

And that sound was the loveliest in all of the world. Bella happy. Greg hoped to hear that same melodic sound at least once a day for the rest of his life. “Come along,” he said. “I only had Simon get you enough painting supplies to last to Edinburgh. There’s got to be some place we can pick up more to tide you over until we reach Florence.” But that wasn’t all they were missing. “And actually, we should probably shop for clothing as well. As much as I enjoy having you completely to myself and naked in bed, no doubt you will soon tire of wearing the same dress day after day. There’s got to be something readymade in a city this size.”

“I think that is a very good idea.” She beamed up at him. “I love you, Gregory Avery.”

“I love you, Arabella Avery.” And he did, with all of his heart.