“Told me you’d marry Nell with or without my consent, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Mean it?”
John looked steadily down into those over bright eyes. “Most certainly!”
Sir Peter gave a little cackle of laughter. “Very well! You shall marry her—now!”
There was a moment’s astonished silence. “Tell him it is impossible!” Nell said, in a panting undervoice.
“It ain’t impossible,” said Sir Peter. “I’ve seen to that! Special license,” he told John, with impish triumph. “Thorne’s got it, but I sent for it! Told you I could still keep my horses together!”
“You’re at home to a peg, sir!” John assured him, amusement quivering in his voice. He looked up, and stretched out his hand across the bed to Nell. “But how is this? Won’t you marry me after all, my love?”
“No, no, unthinkable!” she said, wringing her hands. “You are being forced—forced—into marrying me—in such a way!”
“Am I? But how unnecessary! I don’t even need persuading!”