Chapter Twenty-Four

Naturally there also had to be a good old fashioned Anglican wedding.

Jennifer travelled home with her parents in advance of Brendon who announced he couldn't possibly have the father of the groom dressed in a kilt that last looked to have been washed not long after Culloden. Before leaving, the Reverend had quietly had a private word suggesting the groom also purchase a clean pair of drawers since the ones Dougal was wearing had clearly never been washed at all…

To Augustus Shackleford the journey back to Blackmore had been the longest of his entire life. Even Flossy had taken to curling up under the seat, her head firmly tucked underneath her paws. Dear God, he'd forgotten just how much children could talk – or mayhap he'd never actually been stuck in a carriage with one for nigh on a sennight before.

He could swear that Finn never stopped. From the moment they climbed into the carriage at Caerlaverock to the moment they stepped out of it at the vicarage. He had no idea what he'd do if Percy refused to take the lad. Agnes would likely leave him… He paused and thought for a moment. Clearly, every cloud had a silver lining.

Still, at the end of the day, he needn't have worried. He'd taken Finn to visit, and almost from the onset, both Percy and Lizzy had been captivated by the lad - although what they actually saw in him was anybody's guess. As far as the Reverend was concerned, the boy's only saving grace was his partiality to bread-and-butter pudding.

As with every other Shackleford wedding – although the villagers were quick to point out that, in actual fact, this was a Sinclair wedding and much more genteel – the whole of Blackmore was invited, and for one day, the high and mighty (not to mention the good and the great) mixed with the commoners – and of course the rest of the Shacklefords, who, as always, provided the entertainment.

Everyone agreed that the bride was a vision and the groom looked very handsome, even though he was wearing a skirt and had an accent that absolutely no one could understand apart from Mary Noon who had apparently courted a man from Glasgow in another life.

So, all in all, the wedding turned out to be a corker, which was no more than the Blackmore residents had come to expect from their Duke and Duchess. Indeed, as the villagers were staggering home, they were already taking bets as to who would be next.

THE END