She would have questioned him further, but there was no time. The carriage slowed as it rolled up to the gate in front of Bramble Cottage. As the horses came to a halt, they whickered. Another team of horses answered back.

Laura looked out the window. A hired carriage was parked just ahead on the road. “I wonder who that is?”

She didn’t have to wonder long.

The words had hardly left her mouth when the door of the carriage opened, and Mr. Weatherwax stepped out.

Alex hadn’t given much thought to the Hayes family’s solicitor, except insofar as the man was a nuisance—a nuisance that would likely be eliminated by Alex and Laura’s marriage. When he’d sent the wire to London yesterday, he’d expected Weatherwax to respond in some form or another. An angry letter, perhaps. Or a grudging visit on Friday. But to see the man standing in front of Bramble Cottage less than twenty-four hours after being informed of his client’s intent to marry was…interesting.

Laura’s reaction, however, wasn’t quite so academic. Indeed, at the sight of Weatherwax, her entire demeanor changed. Gone was the glow in her cheeks she’d had since she’d walked down the aisle—and the even brighter glow she’d possessed while broaching the subject of consummating their marriage. She’d gone pale, and grave, her body fairly vibrating with tension as Alex assisted her down from the carriage.

“What on earth is he doing here?” she asked under her breath.

“Miss Hayes! I must speak with you immediately!” Weatherwax hurried toward them, only to stop short. His gaze flicked over Laura’s white dress and flower crown. He staggered back a step. “Dear God, ma’am. Don’t say I’m too late?”

“Too late for what, sir?” Laura asked.

“To stop this travesty. What can you have been thinking, Miss Hayes?”

“It’s Mrs. Archer now,” Alex said. “We’ve just come from the church.”

The solicitor’s face fell. “You are married, then.” He withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and blotted the perspiration from his brow. “This complicates matters.”

Alex felt Laura’s hand tighten on his arm. He covered it with his own. “Let’s go inside, shall we? There’s no need to discuss family business in the street.”

She nodded. “Yes. Do come in, Mr. Weatherwax. You’ll want some refreshment after your journey.”

Mrs. Crabtree met them at the door. She looked as surprised to see the solicitor as they were.

“Mr. Weatherwax has come down from London to speak with me,” Laura explained.

“But your guests,” the housekeeper protested. “I’ve a wedding breakfast to serve.”

“This won’t take long,” Laura said. “We’ll go into Papa’s bookroom. If you would be so good as to bring some tea?”