“Did you mean to wax long and eloquent on the shortcomings of your parishioners or read your usual list of local sinners?”
Though Mr. Throckmorten didn’t reply aloud, his face gave his answer.
Lord Lampton raised an eyebrow to his brother Harold and received an almost pontifical inclination of the head in return. “I do not believe your words will be necessary,” he told Mr. Throckmorten. With a rather condescending look of concern, he added, “Go have that lie down. You’ll need it.”
The earl bowed so slightly that it was more of an insult than an acknowledgment. Mr. Throckmorten took himself off, looking more than a little flabbergasted. Miss Kendrick offered her betrothed a round of silent applause.
“I haven’t taken Orders yet, Philip,” Holy Harry reminded his brother.
“I sat through a long, tedious ordination not a year ago.” Lord Lampton smoothed the front of his unusually somber waistcoat.
“A deacon cannot—”
“God can be merciful, Harry,” Lord Lampton replied with a shrug. He took his fiancée’s arm once more. “And not having to listen to Throckmorten extol his own virtues while throwing his harsh and poisonous barbs at everyone else in attendance will be merciful indeed. Just make it a short service,” he added.
“It will have to be” was the grumbled reply, but Marion thought Mr. Harry Jonquil looked at least a little excited at the possibility. His step picked up speed as he too made his way inside the church. No doubt, his mind was spinning at the task ahead of him.
“Come, Cousin Marion,” Cousin Miles whispered at her side. “We too should be finding our seats.”
She nodded and walked almost numbly into the impressive edifice of the church. Throckmorten was about to lose his position, Marion had a feeling, and not a day too soon—probably a few years too late, in fact. But Mr. Throckmorten’s situation completely fled from her thoughts as she walked up the aisle to the pew Roderick and Adèle already occupied. Ahead, in the Farland pew, sat Layton, Caroline at his side, apparently explaining her prayer book to him in astoundingly acute detail, considering she couldn’t read. Layton listened with a fond smile on his face, though his posture was anything but at ease.
It would take time, Marion reminded herself and hoped he understood that as well. For so long, he had considered himself beyond redemption, hated by a God she knew he revered. But this was a step closer to peace of mind. If forgiveness for what he saw as grievous sins had been less important to him, Layton would not have been as unhappy as he had been and this return to a way of life he’d always embraced would not have meant as much.
Lady Lampton pressed up the aisle just as Marion seated herself in the row behind Layton and Caroline. Rather than take her customary seat in the Lampton pew, the countess sat beside her son, laid a hand on his cheek for the slightest moment, and smiled a little tearily before shifting her attention ahead.
Marion felt tears trickle down her own cheeks as she watched the Jonquils enter. They couldn’t have all fit on the Farland pew but looked very much like they would have liked to make the attempt. Lord Lampton, Mr. Jason Jonquil, and Captain Stanley Jonquil sat with the Misses Kendrick, and Mrs. Kendrick sat on the Lampton pew across the aisle. Mr. Corbin Jonquil joined his mother and, Marion noted, held her hand as the congregation settled in.
“He came, Mary!” Caroline whispered over the back of her pew.
“Yes, dearest,” Marion whispered back.
“And he will sit by me every week.” All signs of her tantrum of minutes earlier had completely disappeared. “He said so!”
Two more tears escaped Marion’s eyes. She leaned farther forward in order to address the girl without her words being overheard. “Do you think your papa will be happy now?”
“Oh yes,” Caroline answered, her whisper a touch louder than it had been. She wrapped her arms around her father’s neck. She smiled lovingly at Layton then kissed his cheek. Layton turned to smile at his daughter after her unforeseen gesture. His gaze met Marion’s. She loved his beautiful blue eyes and the depth of feeling she always saw there.
His forehead creased with concern. “Tears, Marion?” he whispered.
She shook her head, waving off his worries. These were tears of joy as much as sorrow.
Layton pulled from his pocket a folded bit of linen and passed it back to her. Marion accepted it but not without a flip in her heart. She would never be able to look at a handkerchief again without thinking of the evening she’d spent with Layton and Caroline laughing over handkerchief etiquette.
She dabbed at the tears hovering on her lashes.