“So I gather. I take it you have an objection to the church?”

“No. Yes. No, I don’t mind it, although I do think it extremely unkind of you not to even investigate the possibility of Westminster Abbey being open to individuals who are not of royal blood. Truly, Alasdair, it’s not the church I find fault with; it’s the people.”

Dare stared at her for the count of five. His amusement at her evaporated as the ache throbbing at the front of his head blossomed. Wearily he pinched the bridge of his nose again. “The people? What people?”

Charlotte nodded, clearly pleased with him. “Exactly! What people! There are none, no one except your sister and Caro. And Lord Beverly. And your sister’s betrothed, and my cousin’s servants. But other than those scant dozen, there is no one else. It is simply impossible for you to insist we marry with no one to watch us. Thus I have decided that I shan’t wed you until the proper number of people are present to witness our most sacred oaths to each other.”

“The proper number…” Dare shook his head, opened his mouth to say more, then thought better of it. Enough was enough. He had been as patient as a saint, but he had to take the upper hand with her, or he’d never again regain control of his life. The horrific vision of what life would be like with Charlotte in command fixed firmly in mind, he took his bride by her elbow and started toward the church, ducking under a rope dancer’s rope set up between two pillars on the church portico. When Charlotte balked, he stopped and faced her. “Either you enter this church with me here and now and we wed, or you can leave and find yourself another fox.”

“Fox?” A puzzled frown wrinkled her adorable brow.

He fought the need to smooth the puzzlement away. If he wanted even a remote chance of happiness in the future with her, he had to stand firm now. Only by getting this marriage ceremony over with could he return to the important task of finishing his engine. Without the money that engine was sure to bring, their futures weren’t just bleak, they were nonexistent. “Fox. Victim. Husband. Whatever you want to call it, but understand this, Charlotte, I will not pander to your whims and temper. Make up your mind.”

“What?” Charlotte stared at him openmouthed for a moment.

Dare leaned closer so only she could hear his words. “You wished to wed me. Now you will do so, or you will walk away from here a free woman. It’s your decision.”

“But, Alasdair—”

“My…name…is…Dare,” he replied in the same low tone, his jaw set.

Her eyes clouded with tears as she obviously recognized the stalwartness behind his words. Despite his best intentions, he felt something melt in his chest at the sight of her lovely eyes filling, but a man couldn’t give in to every pair of weepy eyes he saw, even if it felt like each tear was ripping open a gaping hole in his heart.