Chapter 19
“Your Grace, you are already familiar with Temperance,” Charity said to her husband-to-be. “But I must make you acquainted with my other friends.”
One by one, Charity introduced Alethea, Prudence, and Maria, and then their husbands.
Duncan had been cordial with all of them, even striking up a conversation with the other dukes.
Her friends had arrived the day before with their husbands, all of them with the familiar warmth Charity had missed so much that it had made her chest ache when she saw them step out of their carriages.
With her friends here, it seemed that the wedding day had arrived too quickly.
“Oh, you must be truly excited,” Alethea had said to Charity on the morning of her wedding day as she got ready, “I have to say that he does seem like a gentleman.”
“I know you always see the best in people,” Charity replied, knowing all too well of this habit of her friends.
“Are you saying that he is the exception?” Maria stepped into the conversation, fixing a stray piece of hair on Charity’s face back in place. “You must know, given that you have already spent some time with him in courtship.”
“I can testify that he is a good man,” Temperance cut into the conversation in her usual unabashed manner, “and of course, my word holds some weight in this context, as you know I am quite the good judge of character.”
The ladies laughed, feeling themselves slip into a familiar sort of dynamic. Since they had left the nunnery, each of their lives had changed so drastically, but there was still the comfort of having a close friend who sustained them even in their most difficult moments.
“But what does the bride to be, think?” Prudence nudged her softly. It was that moment that Augusta walked into the room, a rare smile plastered across her face.
“You better hurry up, sister dear,” she announced cheekily, “the ceremony is to begin very soon, and you do not want to keep the Duke waiting. He is far too patient, and should not be disappointed on his wedding day.”
It felt like a sobering moment for Charity. Initially, Augusta had been so against the marriage but now that she had come to know Duncan more, she had become quite fond of him.
“Well, then,” Charity bit down on her lip, “I suppose that there is no more time to waste then, is it?”
She lifted her skirts, which were gorgeous and flowy in satin.
The dress had been arranged by the duke, and it fit her perfectly.
She had never owned something like this, but was pleased to find that her tastes were aligned with her husband to be.
Heavens, even when she thought of the concept, it made her flush.
One of the staff announced that the ceremony would begin in fifteen minutes, and all of the women made their way over to where the wedding was supposed to take place. The chapel was set within the estate, which felt just private and intimate enough to suit Charity.
When Charity reached the front and saw Duncan waiting, she had to hold herself still, since her body wanted to do too many things at once. He looked formal and controlled, and he met her gaze directly, and for a moment Charity felt a strange calm settle in her chest.
We are to be married. It did not make her want to bolt or retch. No, it was a rather comfortable feeling, if she was being honest with herself.
Temperance and the others took their seats. Malcolm stood a little to the side, ready to intervene if anyone tried to create trouble, which Charity appreciated.
An officiant had been arranged, and he looked like a man of a serious disposition. He stood next to the Duke, adjusting the thin wire frame of his glasses before clearing his throat.
“We are about to begin the ceremony,” he said, and a rush of emotion passed through Charity. She closed her hands into a fist. It was happening. Oh, it was finally happening. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of two souls, Miss Charity X and Duke Duncan X.”
She could not even dare look up at her husband to be, worried that he would somehow see just how nervous and jittery she felt.
It was an excited nervousness, and it felt good to share this moment with everyone that she loved.
They had been very intentional about their guest list, and she could confirm that there was not a single person present in the chapel who did not have the best of intentions for her.
When the officiant reached the final lines before the pronouncement, Charity felt her throat tighten so suddenly she nearly missed the cue, and the officiant looked between them.
“If any person here present knows of any lawful impediment why these two should not be joined together,” the officiant said, “let him speak now, or forever hold his peace.”
There was a brief pause that seemed ordinary at first, but then suddenly, the door at the back of the chapel opened with force.
A man’s voice rang out, loud enough to make several people turn sharply.
“STOP THIS AT ONCE.”
Charity’s entire body went cold and turned to face the sight that made her stomach drop.
Uncle Edward?
He stood in the doorway, face flushed, breathing hard as if he had run, and beside him was Robert, who looked less furious. More like smug, for whatever strange reason. Behind them were two constables in uniform.
Charity looked to Duncan, her mind immediately going to the worst scenario. Duncan, in turn, had a placid expression.
Edward pushed forward again, pointing as if he owned the space. She had not seen her uncle for some time now, but he had not changed even slightly. His entitlement was still the most noticeable thing about.
“Well, I hate to interrupt this little ceremony,” he started with a wicked expression on his face, “but I must. You cannot marry my niece, nor can you take them away from me.”
One of the constables stepped forward with a hand raised, as if he meant to stop Edward from charging down the aisle.
“Sir,” he said firmly, “you will keep yourself back, or you will be removed from this place before any proper business can be done.”
“I brought you here for a reason,” he snapped, barely glancing at the man. “Do your duty.”
The constable nodded once, and looked toward Duncan. He seemed to be taking stock of the kind of person Duncan was.
“Your Grace,” he said, sounding uncertain of himself, “We have been told there is a dispute concerning two minor girls who are kin to the Viscount of Orton, and we have been instructed to retrieve them.”
“You were told there is a dispute,” Duncan said, voice even. “By whom?”
The constable glanced back at Edward, then answered. “The viscount himself, Your Grace.”
Duncan nodded once, as if that confirmed what he already believed.
“And you were told I am trying to steal his nieces?”
“Yes,” the constable said, though his tone sounded less convinced now that he had to say it out loud in this room.
“Do you often accept a viscount’s accusation as fact without hearing the other side, or did you only decide that today was a good day to begin behaving foolishly?”
The constable’s face flushed. “Your Grace, we are here to prevent a possible unlawful removal of minors from their lawful guardian….”
“Lawful guardian,” Duncan repeated, with a calm that made the words sharper. “Is he their lawful guardian, or is he merely a man who claims he is?”
The constable hesitated while Edward snapped, “Of course I am.”
Duncan did not look at Edward when he answered.
“You will not speak again unless I ask you to,” Duncan said, and something in his tone made Edward go very still with shock and fury mixed together.
The constable cleared his throat, trying again. “Their parents are deceased, sir, and the viscount claims authority….”
“The girls came to my house of their own will, did they not?”
“That is what you claim,” The constable blinked.
“No,” Duncan said, “that is what they will tell you if you ask them instead of listening to a man who arrived shouting.”
Duncan finally turned his head slightly, just enough to address Augusta and Matilda without breaking control.
“Come here,” Duncan said. Charity’s throat tightened. She wanted to pull them back, to hide them, to speak first, to do anything that might protect them, but Duncan’s voice had already set the room into a different order, and to Charity’s shock, Augusta stepped forward.
Matilda clung to Augusta’s hand, but she came too, eyes wide, mouth trembling. Charity’s stomach lurched, but she forced herself not to move, forced herself not to interfere, since she could see Duncan had a plan, and she could also see that panic would only make this worse.
Duncan spoke to Augusta first, and his voice lowered slightly, not soft, but controlled enough that Charity knew he was trying not to frighten her further.
“Tell them,” Duncan said. “Did I steal you?”
“No,” Augusta said, and she spoke clearly, eyes fixed on the constables. “He did not steal us, and if you had any decency, you would ask why we ran in the first place instead of storming into a church like this.”
The constable looked startled by her bluntness, then looked at Matilda.
“And you,” he said, less harshly, “did you come of your own will?”
Matilda’s lip trembled. She swallowed hard and nodded, though she looked on the verge of tears.
“Yes,” Matilda said, and her voice shook, but she pushed through it. “We came because Uncle Edward scares me, and he shouts, and he says strange things, and he tried to make Charity drink something, and then she got sick, and I thought she was going to die, and I do not want to go back.”
The room went so quiet that Charity heard someone inhale sharply near the front pews.
Edward’s face went red with rage.
“You little liar,” Edward shouted, stepping forward again, but the constable grabbed his arm.
“Sir,” the constable said, voice hard, “you will stop, or I will put you outside myself.”
Edward jerked his arm, but he did not push again, and the fact that he was being restrained in front of witnesses seemed to make him even more unstable.
Duncan returned his attention to the constables.