Adrian stood in the small Hartland church close to the property of the Abbey, his friend Benjamin at his side. He wore a pair of fine dark-blue trousers and a matching coat with a gold waistcoat.
It felt odd not to be wearing the livery of a footman, which he’d worn nearly every single day of service, except on rare holidays. Ahead of him, the church was filled with a small group of Hartland Abbey servants, as well as Lord and Lady Devon and their children. It was alarming to be so visible after so many years of practicing the art of invisibility.
He looked toward Peregrine Sherman, who’d ridden to London with him two days before to procure a special license from the Doctors’ Commons so he could marry Venetia straightaway. He owed the man much and hoped to repay the favor someday. Peregr
