The ballroom was abuzz with anticipation as the gala reached its height.
“Glenraven.” Sebastian nodded at them with a smug air of triumph. The air around him seemed to shift, and Lora caught that now-familiar scent—lemon intertwined with the smoky residue of burnt wood. Realization struck her like a bolt; the fragrance was no mere coincidence.
“Pardon me, Sebastian.” Lady Aurington walked past him, almost pushing him out of her way. “You’ll have to wait.” She nodded to Duncan, who was in the middle of the room.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Duncan called out, his voice ringing with command. “May I have your attention, please?” He waited several moments for the center of the dance floor to clear and for the guests to quiet down.
“Thank you. Your hosts, Lord and Lady Aurington.”
Duncan stepped away as Ewan’s parents took his place.
“My wife and I would like to welcome you all to Aurington Park. We hope you enjoy the evening. It has come to our attention that rumors are circulating about an announcement this evening. I understand there is a great deal of activity in the betting book at White’s.” He took out a piece of parchment.
“One entry reads: I wager that the announcement will reveal a new political alliance, one that could shift the balance of power in Parliament.” He looked up. “Before you take sides, that is not our announcement. Another entry reads; I’ll bet you two to one that they’ve discovered a new continent. Yes, right beyond the Americas, and they’ll name it after our illustrious host.”
“I read one of the entries.”
Aurington looked up. “Is that you, Sir Haroldson? What did you read?”
“I’ve heard you’re going to announce an expedition to the moon. They say you’re funding a flying contraption made of silk and dreams!”
A burst of laughter rolled through the room. When it quieted, Aurington wiped his eyes. Laughing had brought him to tears.
“That is very good, but my dreams are more down to earth.”
“If I were allowed to bet,” came Aunt Geraldine’s voice from the back of the room. Everyone turned. “My money’s on the declaration of an engagement for the Duke’s heir. It’s high time the young lord settled down, and what better occasion to announce it than tonight, his thirtieth birthday.”
All eyes turned to Ewan, who had Juliet on his arm.
“Well, Glenraven?” As the room reached its peak of anticipation, with murmurs and the clinking of glasses filling the air, Ewan prepared to make his announcement. It was then that Sebastian stepped forward, a document clutched in his hand and a gleam of triumph in his eye.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if I may,” Sebastian’s voice rang out, clear and confident, cutting through the din of the crowd. “Before Lord Glenraven makes his undoubtedly erroneous announcement about himself and Miss Hayward, I have a matter of utmost importance to share.”
He unfurled the document with a flourish, holding it high for all to see. “Behold, the true marriage settlement with Miss Juliet, the daughter of Baron Fairmont. So you see.” He gazed out at the crowd as they all listened to his every word. “He has not met the requirements of the Aurington inheritance legacy, which will put to rest any claims the young former Marquess here might have.”
His smile was wide, almost predatory, as he turned to Ewan. “It seems, my dear Ewan, that your time of playing lord of the manor is coming to an end. And what a spectacle it is to have all of society as witnesses to your downfall. And with the legal contract, I will spirit Lady Juliet to Gretna Green this very evening.”
The room fell into a stunned silence at the gravity of Sebastian’s words. Ewan maintained his composure, his eyes never leaving Sebastian’s face.
“Let me see that document.” Aunt Geraldine called out as the crowd parted, giving her room.
“Of course, dear Auntie.” Ewan wanted to wipe the smirk from his face. Instead, his thumb made small circles on Juliet’s hand to help her stay calm.
“I think there is something wrong with this document.” Aunt Geraldine looked up and out at the crowd. “Cecilie,” she called out. “Sister, you’re needed here.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ewan nudged Julietand nodded toward Sebastian, whose face had gone pale.
The room’s murmur hushed to silence when Juliet’s parents made an unexpected entrance. With a grace that gave no indication of their mission, they approached the gathering around Sebastian and the archbishop.
Aunt Geraldine and her sister stood side by side. Cecilie took the document and scanned it with a practiced gaze. A frown creased her brow as she turned to face the onlookers. “I did not sign this.” Her voice resonated with authority. “And even if I had the power to do so, which I assure you I do not, I would have at least spelled my own name correctly.”
A collective gasp rippled through the room as she pointed to the signature at the bottom of the page. “This says ‘Cecily,’ with a y but I am Cecilie, with an ie and I have always been so.” She turned, glaring at Sebastian. “This document is a forgery.”
Sebastian’s earlier confidence evaporated like mist under the warm morning sun. His face paled, and his eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape. The crowd’s murmurs grew louder, a wave of indignation and disbelief crashed over him.
Two men, Bow Street Runners, stepped forward and positioned themselves on either side of Sebastian. He attempted to step back, but their firm grips on his arms halted his retreat.
