He finds her at the University of London's Horticulture Hall, shepherds her around, makes comments of limited sophistication but genuine enthusiasm regarding the pretty flowers, and excuses himself a couple hours into the affair for a bathroom break.
Mark-as-Miles, unwilling to peep out from behind Linya for long, jumps up so his head clears the level of her shoulder for just a moment. "Hello!" he chirps on the first bounce. "Have you met my wife?" on the second. Another bounce, "Isn't she lovely?" Bounce. "Your empress gave her to me!" Bounce. "It was a very moving ceremony!" Bounce. "You might want to put away that plasma arc," bounce, "before someone gets hurt!"
The Cetagandan scout puts away the plasma arc.
"Of course we have no wish to harm the lady's husband," he murmurs in the general direction of his knees. "Pardon me while I retrieve my commanding officer and this can be sorted out, I'm sure -"
Linya sighs with genteel impatience. The scout scurries away and is replaced by a fellow in extremely dramatic face paint.
"Er, milady ghem...?"
"Miles," says Linya exasperatedly, "perhaps while we're at it you'd like to notify this fellow that contra precedent I did not marry a ghem-lord, as I'm sure he can see with his own eyes, and therefore have not adopted the syllable as though producing it from the aether?"
"The proper form of address," bounces Miles, "is Lady Vorkosigan." Bounce. "She says she'll be annoyed if you shoot me."
"Miles," says Linya, "can you think of any reason to help this individual, for merely declining to annoy me by shooting you?"
The ghem winces.
"No," he says, ceasing his bounces at last and sidling out to stand by Linya's elbow. "Also, I owe Naismith a favour at the moment. His people recently rescued some of mine from Komarran kidnappers. Sorry, century-captain—" he makes this guess at rank based on the pattern of face paint. "You'd better turn around and go home. At least temporarily."
"I will - take that under advisement."
Linya peers at her fingernails. "It occurs to me that I could licitly be offended at attempts on your clone's life even without the possibility of mistaken identity, Miles," she muses. "Obviously he wasn't a participant in our wedding, but the ceremony is about genomes... it isn't really designed to take clones or even identical twins into account, when they're considered so... tacky, within Cetaganda itself... since you owe Naismith a favor, you could choose to warn this fellow here."
"My wife," he says, smiling at the century-captain, "suggests that since Naismith is as much an expression of my genome as I am, she could reasonably be offended at attempts on his life just as much as on mine. Perhaps you'd like to take that under advisement too."
"I believe I'll apply for orders from upstream in my chain of command. I apologize for the inconvenience, Lord Vorkosigan. Do please convey that to your wife as well."
To Linya, he bows, and then he scurries back into the tower.
Linya waits until she can't hear his footsteps anymore, then relaxes. "There. Sorry if you were harboring a latent hope to be thrown at Cetagandan assassins."
"I'm—past that," he says a little uncomfortably, still in Lord Vorkosigan mode. "But thank you. Let's go get the rest of them before they run into trouble." He heads back down the corridor.
"I—I—" He shivers. "Yes. I'm sorry. I, uh." He inhales a steadying breath. "Mark shot Ser Galen. Mark had a crippling panic attack immediately afterward. Miles got me on my feet again by suggesting I not be Mark. It's working so far. I'm reluctant to mess with it too badly while there are still people nearby who want me dead. It seems like a bad time to go catatonic again."
Linya nods, once, and doesn't say anything else while they traverse the remaining distance to rejoin the others.
"They're withdrawing. 'I' owe 'you' a favour," Mark explains. "For rescuing him," a gesture to Galeni, "from the Komarrans. And Lady Vorkosigan is prepared to be annoyed with them if they kill 'you' on the grounds that your genome, being mine, belongs to her."
Miles grins. "Good for you both. C'mon. If we run into ghem-lieutenant Tabor on our way out, ask after his bonsai - he mentioned briefly that he'd taken it up as a hobby, the one time I met him."
Mark nods. And toward Tower Seven they go.
"Specifically," elaborates Miles, "he gave Mark a nerve disruptor intending him to shoot us and he was not quite one full word into making the suggestion before Mark shot him instead."
"There's still that hundred thousand Betan dollars," says Miles. "If you need... space. To figure out how to be yourself. Whoever that is."
"I might take you up on that," says Mark.
"Of course I'd like it if you could just come home to Mother," says Miles, "but God knows I understand what the weight of expectations can do to a person."
Mark laughs softly. After a moment, so does Miles.
"Cordelia is fairly pleasant to show up as an unexpected relative to," Linya mentions. "Her surroundings - vary."
"I've heard," says Mark.
They reach the Tower Seven lift tube and begin ascending.
The Cetagandans have been brisk about clearing out the tower of their presence. They encounter none in it. When they exit the tower, there is a ghem-lieutenant, wandering around, looking unhappy. He startles when he sees Linya, politely averts his eyes, notes Miles and Mark with bewilderment, recognizes Ivan and Galeni, and appears quite paralyzed by all of them put together.
"A mercenary gets it where he can," Miles-as-Naismith says brightly. Mark-as-Vorkosigan shoots him a mildly disgusted look. Miles-as-Naismith ignores him and inquires of his wristcom, "Quinn, can we get an aircar to Tower Seven for pickup?"