After Wedding

The first thing Ernest Teucher did as a married man was veer toward the vestry door.

Eleanor's gloved hand caught his sleeve before his second pace landed. "The carriage is in the opposite direction, husband."

Ernest halted, glancing from the small arched doorway he had nearly walked through to the central aisle paved in stone. "A minor course correction."

"Naturally."

"I was distracted."

"By what?"

He looked at her, the veil pinned behind her hair, white freesias still gathered in her hand. "By you."

The dry amusement in Eleanor's gray eyes softened, her fingers tightening around his arm. "An acceptable justification. Try not to lead us into the coal cellar."