//CLARA//
The chapel doors closed behind us, and the world narrowed to the sound of our footsteps on the gravel path.
"So," I said, swinging our joined hands between us like a schoolgirl. "I'm Mrs. Guggenheim, now, I supposed."
"Has a nice ring to it," he smiled. "It suits you perfectly."
"It sounds like a lot of paperwork."
He laughed. "I'll handle the paperwork. You're apparently very busy running away from weddings."
I shoved his shoulder. He caught my hand and kissed my knuckles.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"You'll see."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
A different carriage waited at the bottom of the lane. A plain black coach with no crest, no markings, nothing to identify its owner. Casimir opened the door.
"After you, Mrs. Guggenheim."
My stomach flipped. "That's going to take some getting used to."
"We have time."
He climbed in after me, and the carriage jolted forward.
