Miss Penn-Leith—ehr, Mrs. Carnegie now, he supposed—blushed deeply. His bride, he abruptly noticed, had rather kissable lips—a bowed upper lip over a plush lower one that looked rather succulent, now that he contemplated it— Right. The end of one’s marriage ceremony was not the time to begin thinking about kissing one’s wife. Unfortunately by this point, Fox had hesitated too long. He blamed the brandy. The congregation stirred. He cleared his throat and leaned forward, pressing a light kiss on his new wife’s cheek. Clapping and cheers erupted. His new bride smiled brightly. And just like
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