Still, more drastic changes had happened in fewer—his father had taken him from home, and deposited him at the Portsmouth Naval Yard all those years ago in less than three days. And the three-day interval waiting for the colonel to retrieve his daughter from Somerset had also given Ian enough time to travel to Doctors’ Commons in London to pay through the teeth to procure a special license. He was, legally and ecclesiastically speaking, as ready as he could be. Yet, now, as he stood on the steps of his rambling cottage, his gut knotted up tighter than a bosun’s fist at the sight of the hired chaise that drew down his long, meandering drive. He had faced French cannon with less trepidation. But damn his eyes and his rising pulse, he would see it through. He would make it work. Ian temporarily pushed all thoughts and concerns about Ross from his mind, and forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand.
What do You think about The Scandal Before Christmas?
