“If the Almighty is that particular about the feelings of those joining in marriage before Him,” Harrison grumbled with another sidelong look at his friend, “then over half of London will be struck down at the exact same time I am. I do hope you will enjoy the spectacle.”

Granger laughed softly before exhaling a half groan. “Basset, there are other ways. Easier ways.”

Harrison shook his head. “Nothing could be easier than selecting a young lady who meets the important criteria for a man in my position and taking all emotion out of the idea. I don’t know why you’re objecting more than I am.”

“Because of the two of us,” Granger told him, taking his voice even lower in volume, “I have been married. I know the manner of it, the things that no one discusses, and I am telling you that this is not the way.”

“No, this is not your way,” Harrison snapped, tired of the pretense and opinions. He cleared his throat, composing his features. “Apologies. I am ill at ease today.”

Granger was silent for a moment. “Well, in that respect, you are rather like every other bridegroom. No man wants to stand here waiting for their bride. Much better just to have the thing over with and done, eh?”

Harrison nodded, relieved to have the debate of the nature of his impending marriage lie at last. He’d have to discuss the thing with Emblyn when he was back in Cornwall, and that was a fight he was not looking forward to in the least. He did not need a preliminary glimpse into how that would go from his groomsman as he prepared to make his vows.

“If you are prepared to do this, in spite of my commentary, I’ll not say another word.” Granger squared his shoulders, turning his attention toward the ceiling of the church. “They had to choose St. George’s, eh? Knowing full well your side of the church would have no one in it?”

Harrison smirked a little. “Your wife sits there, does she not?”

Granger glanced over his shoulder briefly. “She does, yes. And so does Julia Roskelley and her husband. Nice of them to make the journey. And no Trembath, the blighter. How dare he abandon you to this. And no Miss Moyle?”

The mention of Emblyn tightened Harrison’s throat, and he shook his head very faintly. “She wouldn’t. It was not surprising, but I would have liked to have her here all the same.”

“And is…?”

Again, Harrison shook his head. “No, I think. Thank God.”