George seemed to sag in his boots. “Good lord, but I need a drink.”

The vicar looked as relieved as his son. “Mr. Archer…I don’t know what to say.”

“You needn’t say anything,” Alex replied. “I can only hope, in time, we might put this whole unfortunate episode behind us. Not just for my sake, but for Miss Hayes’s sake, as well.”

Laura’s mouth tilted into a cautious smile. “We’d like you to marry us, sir.”

“Indeed?” The vicar settled his spectacles back on his nose. “I daresay it’s necessary. People have been talking a great deal, and none of it to the good. It’s the way of things in a small village. I’ve tried to dispel the worst of it. And I intend to go further. This Sunday, my sermon will be on the scripture from Second Kings, when Elijah put his mouth upon the mouth of a dead boy and revived him with his breath. Not all such behavior is the stuff of scandal.”

“Mr. Archer saved my life,” Laura said. “If not for him…”

Alex’s throat tightened. He didn’t want to think about what might have happened if his rescue attempts had failed. If Laura had died there on the beach at Margate. The very idea of it was too painful to contemplate.

“Quite right,” the vicar agreed. “Would that an understanding of that would be enough to quell the gossip.”

“Will marriage be enough to stop it?” Alex asked.

“I believe it will. Nevertheless…” The vicar paused, frowning. “I should hate to think that was your only motivation to wed. The bonds of matrimony are sacred. They shouldn’t be entered into lightly.”

“We aren’t entering into it lightly,” Laura said. “Marriage was in our thoughts well before the incident at Margate.”

“It’s true. We spoke of it only last Monday.” Alex’s thumb moved over the curve of Laura’s finger. “Didn’t we, Miss Hayes?”

The most delicate of blushes rose in her cheeks. “We did,” she agreed. “So you see, it’s not merely because of the scandal.”

“In that case,” the vicar said, “it would be my profound pleasure. Have you a date in mind?”

“We do. Tomorrow morning at the church.” Laura cast Alex a questioning look. “Is that all right?”

Alex gazed steadily back at her. Tomorrow she would be his. Not just for an hour, or a day, but for all time. His wife—even if he left her. “It’s perfect.”

The vicar himself conveyed the pair of them back to Bramble Cottage in his carriage. From there, Alex retrieved his horse from the stable and made ready to depart for a hotel in the village.

“While I’m there, I’ll send a wire to Weatherwax,” he said as he and Laura stood alone outside the garden gate. “I’ll tell him we expect him here without delay.”

“He’ll never come.”