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       J. Kirk Howard, President

      Printed and bound in Canada

       Printed on recycled paper

      Dundurn Press

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       Toronto, Ontario, Canada

       M5E 1M6

      Gazelle Book Services Limited

       White Cross Mills

       Hightown, Lancaster, England

       LA1 4X5

      Dundurn Press

       2250 Military Road

       Tonawanda, NY

       U.S.A. 14150

       For Nancy … with love

       chapter one

      "Samantha Anne Bliss: do you take Peter Sebastian Bryan to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward…"

      "That's it, then," mutters David Bliss, Samantha's father, thinking that he is talking to himself. "The poor sucker hasn't got a clue what he's taking on. I just hope he doesn't blame me."

      "Who's going to blame you?" whispers an enquirer, her voice barely audible above the rain hammering on the church's ancient copper roof.

      "… till death ye both shall part?" continues the pastor.

      Oh God! Was I talking aloud? "Sorry, Daphne," whispers Bliss.

      "I do," replies Samantha, without hesitation.

      No mention of honour or obey.

       Did you expect there to be? She's a lawyer, not an office flunky. Anyway, when did she ever do what she was told?

      There's a first time for everything.

      "Peter Sebastian Bryan: do you take Samantha Anne Bliss…"

      David Bliss feels a slight tug and has to bend a long way to question the giant toadstool hat on his left.

      "What is it, Daphne?"

      "Don't they usually ask the man first?"

      "Not the one who's marrying my daughter, apparently."

      An indignant "Shush!" comes from the woman on Bliss's right and he briefly cranes around as if trying to locate the talkative culprit.

      "I meant you, David," says Sarah, Bliss's ex-wife, as she digs him in the ribs.

      "Sorry…"

      "In sickness and in health," drones the clergyman, "till death ye both shall part?"

      "I do."

      "I now pronounce you man and wife."

      "I'm surprised Samantha didn't insist on changing that to, ‘I now pronounce you woman and husband,'" Bliss mutters to Daphne as he shields his elderly friend against the deluge while leading her to the limousine.

      "Weddings always make me so happy," snivels the grandmotherly figure under the hat, but Bliss's mind is on his ex-wife as he offers Daphne a Kleenex, saying, "That's ‘cos you've never had one of your own, Daphne."

      Daphne Lovelace, a lifelong spinster by sheer determination, haughtily waves off the proffered tissue with her own monogrammed silk handkerchief. "Well, it's never too late, David. ‘Marry in haste, repent at leisure,' my mother always said. And you needn't look at me like that. I may not be a spring chicken but I've had offers. Anyway, it couldn't have been too bad — aren't you planning on doing it again?"

      "Whoever gave you that idea?" laughs Bliss, though he knows it would be easier to cart water in a sieve than keep a secret from Daphne.

      "Samantha mentioned a certain little French hen," she replies cryptically, but Bliss refuses to play.

      "Take off the umbrella, Daphne. You'll never get into the car wearing that."

      "Huh. Cheek! Chief Inspector," she snorts, but complies, saying, "If Minnie had shown up you would have had someone else's hat to pick on. You should've seen the millinery creation I tarted up for her. I'm quite put out that she didn't even phone me to say she wasn't coming."

      Bliss vaults into the car behind the aging woman and gazes intently through the windshield, questioning whether or not the chauffeur can see the road. "More suitable for a funeral?" he whistles, but it's an avoidance tactic immediately rumbled by Daphne as they drive off gingerly towards the Berkeley Hotel.

      "I know you find Minnie a bit irritating at times, but we're going on a trip around the world together, you

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