Chapter 18 #2
“Are you trying to humiliate me?” he hissed. “Because I assure you, this will not end well for you or your family.”
Damian wrenched Joan away from Julian’s grip and, without warning, drove his fist into the Earl’s face.
The entire church gasped in unison.
Julian staggered backward, blood spurting from his nose. Rage contorted his handsome features into something ugly and vicious. He lunged at Damian, his fist raised,
“Stop!” Joan threw herself between them, her arms spread wide. “Stop this immediately!”
Julian’s fist hung in the air, trembling with barely restrained fury. For a terrible moment, Joan thought he might strike her anyway. His eyes were wild, his face twisted with rage.
He drew his hand back.
“Don’t you dare touch her!”
The voice rang out from the back of the church, high and clear and desperate.
Victoria burst through the doors, her traveling cloak flying behind her as she ran down the aisle. She threw herself at Joan, wrapping her arms around her sister in a protective embrace.
The crowd erupted into chaos. Voices rose in confusion and scandal and delight at the unexpected drama.
Julian laughed. “So this is what it is. A setup. You planned this to humiliate me!”
Joan looked over Victoria’s head, trying to understand what was happening. “Victoria, why are you here? You were supposed to stay in the country.”
“I won’t let you marry him,” Victoria sobbed against Joan’s shoulder. “I won’t. I can’t.”
“She doesn’t have a choice,” Julian snarled. He reached for Joan again, his fingers grasping.
“Touch her, and I will personally remove your hands from your body.”
The voice was deep, cold, and utterly commanding. It cut through the chaos like a blade through silk.
Everyone turned.
Laurence stood in the church doorway. Beside him was Hugo St. Vincent, Duke of Ravenvale. Both men were dressed impeccably, and both wore expressions of deadly intent.
Joan felt her heart stop, then restart with a painful lurch. What are they doing here? How did they…
She clutched Victoria tighter, staring at Laurence in shock.
Julian lowered his hand slowly, his face going pale despite the blood still dripping from his nose. He forced a nervous laugh.
“Your Grace! What an unexpected… that is, I don’t recall extending you an invitation, but of course you are most welcome.”
“Am I?” Laurence’s voice was dangerously soft. He walked down the aisle with measured steps, Hugo following close behind. “I was not aware I required your permission to attend any gathering in London.”
“No, no, of course not,” Julian stammered. “There has been a small… misunderstanding. A bit of family drama. Nothing to concern yourself with. It will be sorted momentarily.”
Laurence’s gaze found Joan’s. Even across the distance, she felt the intensity of it, the question, the concern, the barely restrained fury on her behalf.
“This wedding will not proceed,” Laurence said, his voice carrying easily through the church. “The guests may depart.”
Julian’s face flushed red. “Now see here, Your Grace. I understand you are a man of considerable influence, but this is my wedding. You cannot…”
“Can’t I?”
The two words held such quiet menace that several people in the front pews visibly recoiled.
“You may be powerful,” Julian continued, his voice rising with desperation, “but even you cannot abuse your authority in such a manner! This is a private matter!”
The irony, Joan thought with almost hysterical amusement. He’s accusing another of abusing power.
“Everyone, please remain seated!” Julian called out to the assembled guests. “There has been a misunderstanding, but I assure you, this wedding will proceed as planned. Your Grace, I must ask you to leave.”
“I would strongly suggest,” Hugo said mildly, “that you take the Duke’s advice. Send everyone home. Call off this farce of a wedding. It is in your best interest.”
“I will not be bullied!” Julian’s voice cracked slightly. “This wedding must proceed!”
Hugo glanced at Laurence, who nodded slightly. Hugo clapped his hands once.
The church doors opened again. Four women entered, all visibly pregnant, all wearing the cheap, gaudy clothes of women from the lower classes. Behind them came another woman Joan recognized with a jolt of shock: Clara Hartley, Julian’s mistress, looking haggard, angry, pregnant.
And with Clara came two small children, a boy and a girl, perhaps three and four years old respectively.
Julian turned absolutely crimson. His mouth worked soundlessly.
“Do these ladies look familiar to you, Aldridge?” Laurence asked conversationally.
“No,” Julian managed. “I’ve never seen them before in my life.”
“No?” Laurence’s eyebrow rose. “Are you quite certain?”
“Absolutely certain.”
A sixth woman entered, older, with heavily painted features and an expression of grim satisfaction. She was clearly the madam of a brothel, and she carried a leather-bound ledger.
She walked directly to Hugo and handed him the book with a respectful curtsy.
Hugo opened it, flipped through several pages, then looked up with an expression of exaggerated shock.
“How extraordinary!” he announced loudly.
“According to the records kept by Mrs. Devonshire here, the Earl of Aldridge is the single largest patron of her establishment. And furthermore,” he paused dramatically, “he is the father of all four unborn children these women carry, as well as the two children present.”
The church erupted. Women gasped and clutched their fans. Men shouted in outrage. The noise was deafening.
“This is nonsense!” Julian screamed. “Lies! All lies! I don’t know these women!”
Laurence gestured to the two toddlers, who clung to Clara’s skirts. “You deny these are your children? We can always search for proof.”
Julian looked around desperately, seeing condemnation on every face.
“Hawthorne here has had two other children with his first mistress and as you can see, she and a few others are still carrying his seeds.”
His eyes found Joan, and he lunged toward her, grabbing her arms.
“Don’t believe them!” he begged. “It’s all fabrication! I don’t know those women! You must believe me!”
Joan rolled her eyes. It was no surprise he had two children. Even Damian and Victoria did not look taken aback.
He whirled to face the pregnant women. “How much did they pay you to lie? I can end you for this! I will have you all arrested for slander!”
One of the pregnant women stepped forward. Her hands shook, but her voice was steady.
“You left this at my lodgings last night, my lord.” She held up a signet ring, Julian’s family crest clearly visible on the gold. “When you came to visit. As you have every Thursday for the past three years.”
The church fell absolutely silent.
Julian’s face went from red to white. He snatched the ring from her hand. “This is… Someone must have stolen it! This proves nothing!”
Joan drew back her hand and slapped him across the face with enough force to make his head snap to the side.
Julian staggered backward. And then, with the desperation of a drowning man, he grabbed Victoria’s arm and pulled her against him.
“Victoria! You love me, don’t you?” His voice was high, almost hysterical. “I love you! I was confused, but I see clearly now. I don’t know these women, I swear it. We can still be married.”
Damian shoved Julian away with brutal force. Joan wrapped her arms around Victoria, pulling her sister behind her.
“Do not touch her,” Joan said coldly. “Do not ever touch my sister again.”
Hugo cleared his throat. “I’m afraid there’s more.”
He held up the ledger for the assembled crowd to see. “This book also contains detailed records of the Earl’s use of public funds, funds allocated for estate improvements and charitable works, to pay for his visits to Mrs. Devonshire’s establishment.”
The noise that erupted was even louder than before. Joan heard words like “embezzlement” and “fraud” and “disgrace.”
Julian fell to his knees, his face crumpling. He looked up at Hugo with desperate, pleading eyes.
“You’ll ruin me,” he whispered.
Hugo shrugged. “I did suggest you send everyone home.”
Laurence’s voice cut through the chaos. “I believe there are several officials and clergy present who can confirm the authenticity of these claims.”
The vicar who had been preparing to officiate stepped forward, his face twisted with disgust. “I have never witnessed such flagrant disregard for the sanctity of marriage. You are an animal, sir. An absolute disgrace.”
He turned to Joan and bowed. “Miss Sinclair, you are free of any obligation to this… creature. I will not sanction this union under any circumstances.”
He turned and walked from the church, his robes swirling behind him.
Several men in official dress approached Hugo and Laurence. Joan recognized them as magistrates and members of Parliament, men with the power to investigate and prosecute.
“We will need to examine those records,” one of them said grimly, as Hugo handed him the ledger.
Another turned to Damian. “Lord Sinclair, the Earl had no right to pursue your family as he did. He was in no position to contract a marriage with any respectable family. We will ensure he faces appropriate consequences.”
Julian tried to approach them, his hands outstretched in supplication. “Please, if you would just listen…”
The officials looked at him with such contempt that Julian stopped mid-sentence. Without another word, they turned and left the church.
Julian started to follow, but Hugo stepped into his path, blocking him effortlessly.
Laurence approached Julian slowly, deliberately. He reached out and smoothed the Earl’s rumpled coat with almost gentle hands. Then he leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper that only Julian could hear.
“If I ever see you anywhere near the Sinclairs again,” Laurence said softly, “I will have you publicly executed. Do you understand me?”
Julian’s face went white. He gasped, stumbled backward, and then fled down the aisle and out of the church like a man pursued by demons.