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She shook her head. “She will roam as she does now.”

Ambrose regarded her with an expression of profound resignation. “Am I to understand that the animal is part of the marriage settlement?”

“An indispensable part.”

“And if I object?”

Marina folded her hands before her. “Then I am afraid we shall have encountered our first serious disagreement.”

For a moment, he stared at her. Then, to her considerable surprise, he laughed. It was a low, brief sound, but so unexpected that she found herself smiling in response.

“Very well,” he conceded. “Your murderous cat may accompany you.”

“Luna,” she reminded him.

“Luna,” he repeated, with the air of a man making an extraordinary concession. “Though I reserve the right to defend myself should she attempt another assault.”

“How generous of you, Your Grace.”

“I am discovering that marriage to you will require a great many sacrifices.”

“And we have not even begun.”

His smile deepened, and for one fleeting moment Marina caught a glimpse of the man beneath the formidable Duke of Griffin. He looked almost boyishly amused, and the sight did something altogether inconvenient to her heart.

“Now,” he said, recovering his composure, “while you attend to your cottage and your formidable companion, I shall make arrangements for a special license.”

“So soon?”

“You have accepted my proposal, Lady Whitmore. I see little advantage in delaying matters unnecessarily. I meant what I said, I wish to be married within the week and none of your demands—which amounted to more than one by the way—indicate a need to delay.”

Marina raised an eyebrow. “You do realize that arranging a marriage is not quite the same as issuing orders to your household?”

“I am beginning to appreciate the distinction.”

“Good. Because I shall need sufficient time to gather my belongings, speak with my family, and ensure that my plants do not perish in my absence.”

“Then you shall have it,” he answered, his tone growing more serious.

She studied him for a moment, searching for the impatience or displeasure she had half expected to find. There was none.

“Very well,” she said at last. “I shall return to the cottage and make my preparations. You may attend to the license.”

“A most satisfactory division of labor. Will Sunday suit?”

She nodded. “Yes, it will allow time for my family to attend.”

He flinched at the word family, and she recalled that in all likelihood, nobody would sit on his side of the aisle but the butler. Then, he recovered himself.

“There is a chapel on the grounds. We can wed there, provided it is late in the day or exceptionally cloudy. Otherwise, the drawing room will have to do.”

She paused then. “Can you really not tolerate any sunlight?”

He shook his head. “You saw how I reacted at your home to only a sliver of it.”

“But candlelight is tolerable?”

He nodded. “It does not harm me, nor does light from the fireplace.”