Chapter 34
Charles
Thursday
I glance at myself in the mirror, taking in my haggard countenance. My stomach clenches as nerves jangle throughout. Not even in the heat of battle have I felt this dread.
As I finish getting dressed, a soft knock at my door causes the valet and me to look over. “Enter.”
The footman comes in with his tray, and I can’t help but laugh as he walks over. Well wishes already? The instant I see the scrawl on the top, my blood runs cold.
“Out.”
With a bow, both men leave as I stare at the letter. It will, no doubt, be yet another taunt, another tease about the wedding that will not happen. I wonder how they will feel when it’s me at the end of the aisle and not Henhaven?
My Most Frustratingly Asinine Duke,
How dare you interfere? Her marriage was to be to Henhaven. You were to suffer as you watched her marry another. How dare you flip the narrative and take her for your own?
I promise you this. If you go forward with this wedding, you will regret it.
Your Infuriated Thorn in Your Side
I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the letter. How could the blackmailer have known? And why would they be rooting for Henhaven to succeed? None of this makes any sense.
To my knowledge, everyone but Lewis is actually happy to see me finally wed Cynthia. Just because my brother is wroth doesn’t mean he would rather I cast her to the side.
No. This is someone else. Someone completely different. What are the odds that it’s Henhaven himself? To date, I have seen no bets or wagers. I haven’t had any interaction with him save these last miserable weeks. It’s certainly a possibility. He could be devious enough to disguise his handwriting.
I tuck the note away with a few of the others in my bedroom desk to look at later. If this person wants to keep me from marrying Cynthia, then I’m just going to keep doing the opposite. Nothing, not even hell itself, will keep me from her side.
As the valet comes back in and finishes dressing me, I nearly forget about the letter in my excitement. Soon all will be well. I’ll have my wife, and no one will be able to take her from me.
Granted, even with the excitement, my body still refuses to move. It’s as if I know there will be far more fights and arguments before I give my darling omega the happy ending we both desire.
My eyes are heavy as I trot through London, seeking out their modest home in the parish. Henhaven’s letter must have arrived by now. If not, Cynthia’s father is in for a rude surprise.
As I go to knock, the door flings open. It’s not a footman as usual, but the Baron of Kirden himself, his face mottled red as he motions for me to come inside. He most certainly got the letter.
“What is this I hear about Henhaven calling off the wedding? He says in his note that it is impossible to go through with it. And now, here you are on my doorstep. That can only mean one thing. Scandal. Impropriety. Who saw? Who will all flock to the streets to share the news?”
“Only Henhaven and my friends.”
“Ah. So you do admit it. You compromised my daughter. A duke. An Alpha who could have anyone.”
“Not just anyone,” I insist. “I love your daughter.”
“Fie!” he cries out as he slams his hand on the desk. “Love. If you loved her, it would have been you asking for her hand at the very beginning.”
With a smug smile, I sit down in the chair in front of his desk and cross my legs. “If you recall, I did attempt to secure her hand. You were the one who refused.”
He turns and glares at me, his gaze nearly as hot and deadly as Lewis’s. “Don’t you dare put this on me, boy. You know I was constrained. He put in his request first. There was nothing amiss with it. I could not break it off without causing scandal to both him and my daughter.”
Despite him being correct in what he says, I narrow my eyes and lean forward.
“I am not ‘boy’ to you. I am a duke. I understand that you are upset with the turn of events. Trust me, I would have rather it all turn out differently myself. Either way, I am coming here for your blessing in my marriage to your daughter.”
He turns from me and scowls. “You know you have it.”
“Then this concludes our meeting for today. I will go procure a special license.”
“And if he does not grant it?”
I rise and smirk at him. “Gretna Green looks very fetching this time of year.”
“You wouldn’t dare. That would be even more scandalous.”
“Fear not. With your written permission and the note Henhaven sent you, I see no reason the Archbishop won’t allow it.”
Furious, the man sits at his desk and pulls out some paper and writes in hard, harried strokes. “There. This should be everything you need. Oh, and Norhaven?”
“Yes?”
“Ever since my daughter was young, she fell in love with your family. In some ways, I even considered you a son. Do not force me to put you over my knee and discipline you like one.”
At that, I can’t help but laugh. It eases the tension a bit as I reach out to shake his hand. “I will make her my bride by any means possible.”
“See that you do. I like that Henhaven fellow, but you were the only one she ever wanted.”
“Why, whenever there is a problem, it is always one of you lot,” the Archbishop of Canterbury sighs as he shakes his head. “Another special license? Are none of you capable of finding a woman and marrying her in the proper way?”
“When the heart yearns…”
“Yes, yes. I understand. At least it’s a reasonable hour and I’m not already abed. You find me in a gregarious mood. Tread lightly. Now then, who are you to marry?”
“Miss Cynthia Campbell.”
The man pauses, his quill poised above the parchment. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I must have misheard. Did you say Miss Campbell?”
“Indeed, I did.”
“Miss Cynthia Campbell.”
“Yes.”
“Miss Cynthia Campbell, daughter to Miles Campbell, Baron of Kirden?”
“One and the same.”
He chuckles and wipes his hand down his face.
“Do you come here to waste my time? What means this foolishness? My ears and brain must not be in agreement for me to be hearing such things. Are you not aware that Miss Campbell is already slated to be married to David Richardson, Viscount of Henhaven, this coming Saturday?”
“I am very aware.”
“And yet you stand here before me, asking for a special license.”
“I do indeed.”
“For Miss Campbell.”
“I can say it as many times as you need, but yes. Miss Cynthia Campbell.”
He places the quill on the desk and looks up at me. “Have you gone mad, Your Grace? A woman cannot marry two husbands.”
“I am very much aware. Henhaven is no longer able to marry her. I am taking his place with her father’s blessing.”
The Archbishop snatches the papers out of my hand and looks over them, his brow furrowing. “This is highly irregular.”
“I am more than willing to pay for the inconvenience.”
“And if I say no?”
“If it pleases you, our joining is a love-”
“Love match,” he finishes, rolling his eyes. “Where have I heard that one before?”
“We have all been blessed to find our perfect mate. Much, in part, to you and your magnanimity.”
He glances up at me and raises an eyebrow. “Flattery, Norhaven? Really? You think that is the way to get what you need?”
“I’m merely stating the truth. Think of it. All these couples you helped to find love. Why, if you’re not Cupid in disguise.”
“Blasphemy to mention a pagan god to me,” he intones before lifting a kind eye and a smirk my way. “But I will take the sentiment. Here. Your license. Are there any more in your group I need to know of?”
“I am the last.”
“Good,” he chuckles. “See that it stays that way. My magnanimity is finite, and you lot have stretched it to its breaking point.”
With a low bow, I grab the license and leave, not wishing to vex the good man any further. I can’t chance him changing his mind. Or worse, should he tell the Queen and get her involvement. She so does love to meddle in the affairs of others.
My heart is light as I leave Lambeth Palace, license secured against my chest. Cynthia is now mine indeed, but there is still so much to prepare if I want her to have a wedding fit for a duchess. How surprised she’ll be when she enters the church on Saturday.
The rector, of course, seems quite put out at the announcement. Though all he’s had to do, really, is to announce the banns. It’s not as if anything else has been accomplished.
He goes through the list of everything that’s already been planned, and I reject it all. Henhaven, though of considerable means, seemed more than willing to have a wedding below his station. Did he not care? Did he worry he’d embarrass Cynthia by demanding something more grand?
He could have paid for it more than enough times over. The fact that everything is plain tells me he truly knew nothing of her. She was a body to marry. Nothing more.
“And what would you like to keep, and what do you want to change?”
A large smile crosses my lips as I lean over, palming a bag of coin. “Nothing of his. I plan to change everything.”