" There's a very generous donation in the parish's future if you make this fast. Ten minutes, at the most." Frowning, the man fumbled open his liturgy. " There's an established rite, Your Grace. Marriage must be entered into with solemnity and consideration. I don't know that I can rush--" " Ten minutes. One thousand guineas." The liturgy snapped closed. " Then again, what do a few extra minutes signify to an eternal God?" He beckoned Amelia with a fluttering, papery hand. " Make haste, child. You're about to be married. "