The Wedding-Crashing Duchess (A Lady’s Vow #10)

Chapter 1

“You’ve barely said a word all evening.”

Augusta Cluett turned her head slowly and found her sister watching her with an expression of grave concern. When Augusta didn’t answer back immediately, Charity pressed on.

“Is there a reason, or something that you need to tell me?” Charity looked at her sister expectantly. “You’re never this quiet.”

“Oh, I think you’re reading too much into things.” Augusta waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Surely, I am allowed to be silent, if I wish. Everyone else in this hall is chattering away, and if you really wish to have conversation, you ought to speak to one of them.”

Charity looked at her sister with an expression of both disappointment and amusement.

“I’m not concerned whether you are speaking to me,” she said, looking around the room which was supposedly filled with some of the most eligible bachelors in all of London.

“Just that you don’t seem to be interested in speaking to anyone else either.

What was wrong with the gentleman who tried to strike up a conversation with you just now?

You gave him clipped answers, and the poor soul eventually just retreated.

I could tell that he was interested in you. ”

“Oh, don’t go and play matchmaker,” Augusta narrowed her eyes at her sister. “Besides, nothing he was saying was of any interest to me.”

“I feel that you should have at least given him a chance.” Charity frowned, which was not a surprise. Augusta knew that her sister wanted the “best” for her, and apparently that involved marrying a suitable man.

“Let me be earnest with you,” Augusta lowered her voice. “I am not interested in engaging with any of the men tonight. Surely, I’m allowed that.”

Something in the seriousness with which Augusta said the words struck a comedic chord in Charity, and she laughed, drawing the attention of an elderly lady seated a few places away.

The woman looked at them with interest, no doubt hoping they were discussing something worth repeating, and Charity immediately transformed her expression into one of composed innocence.

“Fine, then.”

The ballroom at Hewes Park had been arranged with all the splendor expected of an earl’s daughter on the occasion of her engagement.

The engagement of Lady Phillipa Hewes to the Duke of Ravenhill had drawn half the fashionable world, and the other half would undoubtedly claim to have been present when the marriage was discussed afterward.

Everywhere Augusta looked, she saw ladies dressed in their best silks and gentlemen displaying their finest coats.

Phillipa stood near her mother beneath an arrangement of pale roses, receiving congratulations with a graceful smile that had not altered once during the evening.

Charity followed her gaze, which had landed on Phillipa for perhaps the tenth time that night. Though Augusta told herself that it was only by coincidence.

“I see now why you’re not interested in speaking to anyone at all,” Charity said, seeming rather pleased with herself for arriving at some great conclusion. “Rather, you’re fixated on the star of tonight’s event.”

She made a gesture, nodding her head in the direction of Phillipa.

Augusta smoothed an invisible crease from the skirt of her pale green gown. “I am curious, naturally.”

“Phillipa appears very happy,” Charity noted, causing Augusta to roll her eyes in response.

Charity studied her for a moment. The amusement faded from her face, though her tone remained gentle.

“You do not believe so?”

“I do not know whether she is happy. I have not spoken to her for more than two minutes at a time since the engagement was announced, and during those two minutes there were at least seven people listening to every word we said,” Augusta said quickly, pursing her lips.

“So, I have no real reason to believe it.’

“Huh,” Charity considered her words, “still, I would say that you are being a bit presumptuous. I would tell you to be happy for her, and not worry. Your time will come soon.”

Augusta’s mouth dropped open at her sister's words.

“Are you implying that I am somehow jealous of her?”

“Well, no…” Charity tried to backpedal, though the damage had already been done. “I know that there has always been a little bit of a... competition between the two of you, and it's only natural to...”

“Please. You’re being ridiculous,” Augusta cut her off mid-sentence. “I simply think it strange that she should accept a man she has known for so little time.”

Surely, that was the entire reason. Charity was so irritating with her presumptions, she thought to herself.

“Many women marry men they have known for less time.”

Augusta glanced toward Phillipa again. She had moved farther into the room and was now speaking to a group of married ladies, each of whom seemed intent upon offering advice.

Phillipa listened with the same perfect attention she gave everyone, tilting her head at precisely the proper angle and smiling whenever courtesy required it.

“You always liked her,” Charity continued.

“I respect her.”

“I believe that is the nearest you have ever come to admitting affection for a rival. She has been compared with you in every drawing room for the past two Seasons.”

“That is hardly our fault.”

“No, but neither of you appeared greatly troubled by it.”

Augusta could not deny that.

From the moment of their debuts, she and Phillipa had been spoken of as though they were competing candidates for some invisible prize.

They were close enough in age, similar enough in rank and equally determined to behave well.

When Phillipa opened a ball with the son of a duke, Augusta’s next partner became a matter of public interest. When Augusta received flowers from an eligible marquess, Phillipa’s admirers sent twice as many the following morning.

The rivalry had never descended into cruelty. They smiled, competed, and understood one another with an ease that sometimes felt more intimate than friendship.

Each knew how much effort the other spent appearing effortless.

“She wanted to make an excellent marriage and used to speak of it as though it were a campaign. I know that she considered every possibility carefully, so I cannot understand why she has acted so quickly now.”

“Perhaps because the prospect is a duke.”

“Even so,” Augusta shrugged her shoulders.

“I have not known her to be someone who is particularly dazzled by titles. I know that another duke was interested in her, although granted he was almost fifteen years older than her. But she didn’t show sort of interest back.

If a title was the only thing, then surely, she would have been engaged long ago. ”

“That part is unusual,” Charity said after a moment. “I grant you that. But not enough to draw the conclusion that you’re set on.”

“How do you know? You know almost nothing about him.”

Charity lowered her voice. “I know he is considered responsible with his estates. Duncan has heard no complaints regarding his tenants, and there have been no rumors of debt or cruelty.”

“That’s hardly anything,” Augusta pressed. “Charity, you usually know a lot more about people; at least admit that. Isn’t that strange? Do you not see why that would be worrying?”

Charity let out a small laugh.

“I’m not the one marrying him,” she said. “So it’s fine, really. I suppose we will find out more about him as time passes. The wedding is in a few days, after all.”

Before Augusta could answer, Duncan appeared beside them carrying two glasses of lemonade.

“I have been sent to persuade Augusta to dance,” he announced, handing one glass to Charity. “Your third rejected suitor has appealed to me as head of the family.”

“He is not my suitor, and I was not interested in speaking to him,” Augusta replied, annoyed that their conversation had been cut short.

“Perhaps he was nervous; he didn’t seem too bad of a prospect.”

“Charity, can you tell him that I am not open to receiving any suitors tonight?” She turned to her sister for rescue.

Charity leaned into him to whisper something and received a smile that altered Duncan’s entire face. It was a small thing, no more than a glance passing between husband and wife, but Augusta felt the familiar tightening in her chest.

Was it jealousy? Well, no. She could not resent Charity her happiness, particularly after all her sister had endured. Yet witnessing the ease between them reminded Augusta of what she wanted and of how uncertain she had begun to feel that she would ever find it.

She did not want merely to marry but rather to be chosen with conviction, as Duncan had chosen Charity. She wanted a man who would stand beside her, and a home of her own, children, duties and a place in the world that did not depend upon her sister’s generosity.

That last desire carried shame with it, though Charity had never once treated her as a burden.

“Very well, then,” Duncan said. “Will you at least take a sip of your drink? I don’t like seeing you this worried.”

Augusta suddenly felt a bit suffocated by their concern, even though she knew in her heart that both of them meant well.

“Can you excuse me for a moment?” she said abruptly.

“Where are you going?” Charity said, a hint of worry reflecting back in her eyes. “I think Phillipa might still be too occupied to speak, so you should let go of that pursuit for tonight.”

“I’m only stepping out for some air,” she assured her. “Don’t wait for me.”

Augusta left before they could find another reason to detain her. She moved along the edge of the ballroom, passing groups of guests who scarcely noticed her departure. Near the doors, she glimpsed Phillipa again and nearly changed direction.

Phillipa stood beside her father, listening to a stout man with a red face. Her attention remained fixed on the speaker, but for one brief moment her eyes shifted across the room and met Augusta’s.

Augusta paused.