Page 139 of The Wallflower Takes All

The man in black shifted near the window.

Gabriel’s gaze fixed upon him. “You are a clergyman?”

The man swallowed. “In a manner of speaking.”

“There are very few manners of speaking that answer that question.”

Count Bellarosa waved one elegant hand. “Mr. Pottle has studied extensively.”

“Studied what?” Gabriel asked.

Mr. Pottle’s eyes moved toward the door. “A number of subjects.”

“Has ordination been among them?” Gabriel pressed.

A pause. “Not formally.”

Gabriel’s expression did not alter.

Poppy had learned enough to recognize the warning in that stillness.

Mama reached for her champagne. “Darling, do not be narrow-minded. Formalities have killed more romance than bad poetry.”

“Nothing has killed bad poetry,” Gabriel said. “Mr. Loxley has proved that repeatedly.”

Count Bellarosa drew himself up. “Sir, you bring an unseemly skepticism into a room prepared for devotion.”

“I bring a professional aversion to fraud,” Gabriel intoned.

The count pressed a hand against his chest. “Fraud?”

“Mr. Pottle is not a clergyman. That document upon the table is not a special license. And unless I am much mistaken, that ring contains paste.”

Mama looked down at the enormous stone. “Does it?”

Count Bellarosa’s grandeur dimmed by a fraction. “Paste has been maligned by lesser imaginations.”

Gabriel crossed to the table and picked up the paper. “This license bears the signature of an archbishop who died eight years ago.”

Mr. Pottle winced.

Count Bellarosa spread his hands. “A clerical oversight.”

Gabriel’s jaw ticked. “An impressive one.”

Poppy looked at Mama. “Mama,” she said carefully, “what are you doing?”

Lady Viva lifted her glass and took a small sip. “Solving things, sweetie.”

“You cannot solve our difficulties by marrying a man whose wedding license was signed by a dead archbishop,” Poppy pointed out.

“One should not dismiss assistance merely because it arrives from beyond the grave,” Mama replied.

“Mama.” The sharpness of Poppy’s voice cut through the absurdity.

Lady Viva lowered the glass.

For one moment, no one spoke.