“Your Grace,” the priest said awkwardly. “You must understand that I cannot ignore this interruption. It is of the gravest import. The viscountess must be allowed to speak. She must have a good reason to interrupt the ceremony.”
Everyone turned to look at Lady Haddington. Charlotte knew what was coming. She recognized the letters in her stepmother’s hand. Why had she not burnt them when she had the chance? All was lost, now, surely?
“Miss Hervey has a lover!” Lady Haddington announced, waving the bundle of letters above her head. Next to her, Alison smirked behind her fan.
“I cannot bear it,” Charlotte said to the Duke, trying to pull away from him. “Please, let me go. I cannot bear the shame.”
“Stay, Charlotte, I beg you. I will resolve this,” he implored, holding her arm.
She looked up at him desperately. “How can you possibly fix it?” she whispered. “You must wish you had never set eyes on me.”
“No, that is not true,” he said, then turned his attention back to Lady Haddington. “My lady, you do not know what you are talking about.”
“No, Your Grace, forgive me, but I think you do not know what you are talking about,” she insisted. “I have here a selection of letters sent to Miss Hervey by a gentleman who is not present today. A gentleman who is not the man that she is intent upon marrying. How, in good conscience, Your Grace, could I allow this marriage to proceed when the bride has a secret lover?”
All eyes were fixed on Charlotte now, and she felt her head swim with panic and terror. She wrenched herself free from the Duke’s arm. “I must go!” She ran, her cheeks aflame, down the aisle and through the doors of the church, out into the churchyard, leaving the gaping mouths of the ladies and gentlemen of the ton behind her.
* * *
Charlotte ran across the churchyard, almost blinded by tears. She felt sure she would never recover from the shame her stepmother had heaped upon her today. All those people staring at her! And it brought back to her the memory of the humiliation she had been dealt at the hands of Lord Harry. That moment when his engagement to Miss Thomas had been announced, despite the ardent words of love he had written to her.
The Duke knew, she told herself. He knew what had gone on between herself and Lord Harry. The letters would not be a shock to him. After all, he had read one with his own eyes on that first day he had met her when that infernal dog had all but delivered it into his hands, and he had pursued her all the same. Of course, at the beginning, it had all been a pretense, but he had said he loved her for herself, and wanted to marry her despite everything. He would not desert her for the sake of a bundle of letters, would he?
She wondered, now, if she should have stayed inside the chapel and waited to see what he said in response to Lady Haddington’s declaration. Perhaps he would be leaping to her defense? But she simply could not stand it for a moment longer, all those people staring at her and thinking of her as some kind of improper, indecent woman. Not fit to be a duchess.
Not fit to be a duchess…Her stepmother’s words echoed in her ears. She was not fit to be his wife. She had been trying to convince herself all this time that things were different, but now, this scandal was too much. They would be the talk of the ton for months on end. Such a thing as this would not blow over like a spring shower. No, it would be like a thunderstorm over their heads, overshadowing everything. And she could not stand by and allow him to expose himself to this, to force himself to suffer this shame on her behalf.
And yet, as she stood under the tree, feeling a drop of rain landing on her cheek, her whole body gave way to the wave of sadness that threatened to engulf her. Only now did she realize what she felt for him. Only now, after these few weeks of upheaval and confusion, did she recognize that what she felt for him was love.
He was twice the man Lord Harry was, nay, more. He had defended her against the slights of her stepmother. He had even defended her mother, although he had never known her. He had gone chasing after Lord Harry, urging him to do the decent thing, even though he said he was in love with her himself by then. And all the while, he had kept quiet about his own growing feelings for fear of overwhelming her.
And when the time was right, when she really needed him to be honest with her, he had managed to open his heart to her and tell her that it was love he felt for her.
But she had left him alone to face the scandal, the wrath of the ton. No, it was not right. It was not what her mother would do. She turned on her heel and crossed the churchyard, heading back to the chapel. They would face this together, and she would fight for him, as he had fought for her.
* * *
Luke looked around the chapel and felt a wave of despair sweeping over him. Should he run after her now or try to explain the situation to the people gathered here? He wished, at that moment, that he could be in two places at one time. Both tasks were critical to his future happiness.
He turned to the viscountess, that wretched woman who was so determined to ruin Charlotte’s happiness and in turn, his. “You tell me nothing I did not already know,” he declared.
There was a ripple of surprise throughout the congregation. Only Mark knew what had happened between himself and Charlotte at the beginning; he had confessed it all to his friend. And now, he was about to tell the whole story to those gathered in the chapel, and he had no doubt that the news would be all around the ton before lunchtime. But so be it. He had had enough of lies. He had enough of hiding his feelings.
“Charlotte told me when we first met that she had previously corresponded with this man.” Luke held short of announcing his name. For the sake of poor Miss Thomas only, he thought to himself. There was no need for her to be plunged into this scandal, too; she had done nothing wrong, after all, and was almost certainly destined to an unhappy marriage with a man as feckless as Lord Harry.
“She admitted it to you? The brazen thing!” Lady Haddington spat. “What on earth can have possessed you to marry her? I searched her room-” She gasped and lifted her hand to her mouth.
“You searched her room?” Luke said. He turned to Lord Haddington, who up until now had been silent. “You may wish, my lord, to speak with your wife about how she conducts herself in your home.”
“I – I searched her room for signs of witchcraft! I thought that she must have bewitched you into marrying her. That could be the only answer, the only reason why a gentleman such as you should show any interest in someone like Charlotte.” the viscountess said, having the decency at least to look a little embarrassed as she admitted to such a shocking invasion of her stepdaughter’s privacy. “But I found these letters instead, which are just as damning. Think of the dishonor you are doing to your family and the good name of your estate by marrying this hussy!”
“Stop!” Luke shouted, holding up a hand to stem the flow of poison emanating from the viscountess. “I will hear no more of this! I knew all there was to know about it. It was the smallest dalliance before we met, with a man entirely unworthy of her attention, and it came to nothing. It has not the least relevance to me.” He turned and glared at the priest. “Nothing improper happened, and I am enraged that my marriage has been further delayed.”
Mark turned to him now with a cough. “What would you like to happen now, Seton?”
Luke paused for a moment. Even if he could find Charlotte, wherever she had run to, and bring her back, he did not want to be married here, in this place, before these wretched people. And he was certain that Charlotte would feel the same. An idea began to grow in his mind, and he made a sudden decision.
He whirled back around and faced the crowd. “You must leave, all of you!”
