“Every single guest over the age of eighteen knows exactly what you and I are going to do the very moment they leave—”
“And every one of them would thank you not to begin until they do.” She slapped at his hand when he laughed and reached for her again. “I’m attempting to have a serious conversation, Whit.”
“Well, don’t,” he advised. “It’s our wedding day.”
“And therefore I shouldn’t be serious?”
“You should be celebrating.”
“I am,” she replied and dodged another grasp. “But I want to know if William means to continue his missions.”
She nodded toward Evie, who stood a distance away in a small group of guests. It was clear she wasn’t listening to what ever was being said. Her gaze and thoughts were focused on the hills beyond the lawn.
Whit paused in his attempts to snatch up his wife. “William intends to fulfill his promise to the late duke, though I tried to talk him out of it.” He aimed a dark scowl at the man in question. “He won’t tell me what he has planned either, the blighter. Says I won’t be able to stop myself from interfering.”
“You won’t,” she agreed, and looked from Evie to William. “Perhaps I can pry something out of him.”
“Unlikely,” Whit scoffed. “The man’s lips are sealed tighter than a drum.”
She continued to eye William speculatively. “Hmm. I believe a brief talk with the man is in order.”
“He’s an agent for the War Department, Mirabelle. A brief talk isn’t going to…” He trailed off as she moved away from him towards William. “You’ll tell me what he says!”
She cast a wink over her shoulder. “I’ll think on it.”