“In theory I could end up in prison,” Anna said. “If Comstock has his way, that’s exactly what will happen.”

Jack studied their linked hands for a moment, and then he gave her an even, calculating look.

“There are people working on your behalf this weekend.”

“That’s an oddly momentous statement. I do trust Conrad, but—”

“Oscar is hard at work, too.”

That gave her pause. “Oscar?”

“If they want to send somebody to prison, it’s going to be the person who did Janine Campbell harm.”

“Jack,” Anna said. “I appreciate Oscar’s help, but it’s entirely possible that she acted alone, without any assistance.”

“Maybe so,” Jack said. “But Oscar is tracking her movements for the days before she died, I can pretty much guarantee that. If she saw no one out of the ordinary and no one out of the ordinary came to see her—if Oscar can account for all of your time in the last week—that will be the end of the matter. As far as your connection, of course.”

Anna drew in a very deep breath and held it. She could see a half-dozen ways this plan might fail, but then again, it might succeed.

“So can you put that worry out of your mind for the rest of the weekend?”

“I suppose I must,” Anna said. She stood, but he stayed where he was, looking up at her.

“Are you coming?” she said. “They may have already closed the town hall for the day, and then what?”

•   •   •

IN FACT, THE justice of the peace was almost out the door when they found him. He had already put an old-fashioned stovepipe hat on his perfectly bald head and was standing in the doorway. He looked at them over the top of his spectacles with what could only be called suspicion.

Before Jack had said five words, the man turned his back on them and went back into his office, leaving the door open.

Jack ushered her inside, following closely.

The man who had taken a seat behind the desk was Theodore Baugh, Esq., according to the placard on his desk. He gestured to two chairs, and they sat. Anna wondered if the man would ever speak, and whether she should be nervous about the way he was studying her. Before she could think of something to say that wouldn’t sound silly or inappropriate, the man put both hands on his desk and leaned forward a little.

“Witnesses?”

Jack said, “I’ll go ask the clerk down the hall.”

“The clerk down the hall. In a hurry, I see.”

He didn’t ask why they were in a hurry, and Jack didn’t volunteer any information. Anna was starting to enjoy herself, though she wasn’t sure why.

Justice Baugh pursed his lips thoughtfully, then pointed to something on the wall behind them. Anna and Jack both turned to see a carefully lettered proverb in a simple black frame: Marry in Haste, Repent at Leisure.

A full minute passed while they sat silently, being studied. Anna thought of oral exams in front of a row of professors, grim or bored or encouraging, but she was willing to leave all this to Jack. Somehow she knew that he would not speak first, that he had taken the justice of the peace at face value and accepted a challenge of sorts. She was really quite curious about how the impasse would end.

Another minute passed. With a sigh Justice Baugh got up from his chair, walked around the desk to the door, and opened it. His voice boomed down the hall.

“Mr. Macklin, Mr. Reynolds, I need you down here right away.”

Anna whispered to Jack, “Is he sending for the constables to arrest us, do you think?”

Jack’s mouth quirked at the corner.

When Justice Baugh returned to his desk chair he drew a piece of paper toward himself, took the cork from a bottle of ink, and picked up his pen. He looked at Jack.

“Name?”

By the time he had finished making a record of Jack’s name, profession, age, place of birth and residence, and the names and birthplaces of his parents, two young men had come into the office. Baugh ignored them as he turned to Anna.

“My name is Liliane Mathilde Savard. I am a physician and surgeon, and today is my twenty-eighth birthday. I was born in Paradise, Hamilton County, New York, and I live at number eighteen Waverly Place in the city. My father was Dr. Henry de Guise Savard, born in New Orleans. My mother was also a physician, Curiosity Bonner Savard, born in Paradise, Hamilton County, New York.”

Justice Baugh’s eyebrows had climbed his forehead while she talked, but he didn’t challenge her. Anna decided that she liked him.

“Either of you have any legal impediments to this marriage?”

When they assured him they did not, he scribbled something on his paper and without looking up said, “Five dollars for the marriage license. Five for the civil ceremony.”

It seemed that Jack had anticipated this much, because he put the money on the desk without looking for his wallet. The bills disappeared into Justice Baugh’s desk drawer with amazing speed.

Then he looked at them over his spectacles one more time, and his whole face split into a smile.

•   •   •

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER they left Justice Baugh’s office. In his hand Jack held the marriage license and certificate, ink just barely dry, and regarded them as if he had never seen paper before in his life.

“Here,” Anna said, gesturing for them. “I have a folio in my bag.”

Her hands were trembling a little as she tucked the documents away, but the sight of her own signature, strong and clear, gave her back her equilibrium. They had married in haste, it was true, but they had also married out of affection and common interests and love. Even if she had yet to say the word, it was true.

When she straightened again, he was smiling down at her.

“Here we are,” he said. “Married.”

“So it seems. Now what?”

“Now we check into the hotel and find some dinner.”

The first raindrops fell as they started down the street and so they ran the rest of the way, and stopped under the portico just as the sky opened up in earnest. The smell of rain hitting earth and cobblestones warm from the sun rose around them, the sweetest of perfumes.

Jack opened the door and looked at her quizzically. “What are you thinking?”

“I hope it rains all night,” she said. “I love this. I love—” She swallowed. “I love summer rain.”

He bent down and kissed the corner of her mouth. Against her ear he said, “I love you too, Anna Savard.”

•   •   •

THEY ATE AN early supper in the hotel restaurant: a thick broth full of wide noodles, roasted lamb and buttery mashed turnips, the first salad greens of the season and marinated mushrooms. In between courses they talked about the practical matters they had so studiously avoided before stepping into Justice Baugh’s office.

“I should send a telegram to Aunt Quinlan, and one to Cap and Sophie, too. Do you want to send one to your sisters?”

The corner of his mouth jerked. “Now that would offend my mother, if she heard the news after my sisters.”

“We could go to Greenwood tomorrow,” Anna said. “If we took the ferry to Perth Amboy, we could find transportation from there, no? That would be better than a telegram.”

As soon as the words left her mouth Anna wished she could call them back. The idea of adding a trip to Greenwood had come to her out of a sense of propriety, but it also filled her with dread. Jack saw all that on her face, and in that moment Anna forgave him for his frustrating talent for reading her mind.

“Anna,” he said. “We’ve got a one-day honeymoon, and I’ll be damned if we’ll spend it anywhere but in bed.”

The blossoming of heat on her throat and cheeks made him laugh, and Anna decided she could forgive him for that, too.

•   •   •

ANNA WATCHED FOR a while as Jack worked on the telegrams for his parents and sisters, his usually confident hand pausing over each word. Just at this moment she was glad she didn’t speak Italian, though at some point she would want to know what he had written. She had never heard him speaking to his parents and had no idea if he would be deferential or self-assertive. Italians, she had come to understand, could be terribly formal in certain situations.

He had written a telegram for Oscar, too, but it was tucked under the others and Anna had the idea that she should leave well enough alone. Better not to hover. She made another tour of the room and stopped to watch the storm. The rain was moving across the bay in long sinuous strokes that shimmered in the half-light. She shivered a little but didn’t bother to dig the shawl out of her valise. This kind of shivering was not about the chill in the air, but her nerves.

The room was well kept and comfortable with a dresser, a divan, a desk, and a good wide bed with a thick comforter that would be welcome in the cool night salt air. The innkeeper himself had come to bring them a pitcher of fresh water for the washstand and to lay a fire in the grate, nodding toward the window and the rain in explanation. When he had gone and Jack was still bent over the telegram form on the desk, Anna found herself yawning. She stretched out on the divan and let herself be seduced by the falling rain, drifting into sleep only to wake with a start sometime later when lightning streaked across the sky. A blanket had been draped over her, light and warm.