Chapter 3 #2
He gave her a look at that.
“Yes, a foolish person indeed. You have never seen another cane with a silver raven, so you decided mine must be the only one in existence,” Ravenhill’s gaze hardened again. “You had never seen me before today. How could you possibly know whether it was me?”
Augusta hesitated, but then decided to not let him intimidate her again. It was something he did easily.
Ravenhill looked toward Lord Hewes. “I arrived shortly after nine. I spoke with you in the library, remained there for nearly an hour, and then joined several gentlemen in the card room. Can you confirm that?”
“That is true,” Lord Hewes nodded slowly.
“I remained in the card room until I left the house,” Ravenhill continued. “I was seen by every man at the table, two servants, and several guests who came and went during the evening. At no point did I visit the lower garden.”
“Someone could have lied for you,” Augusta said, looking at him.
The silence that followed was profound.
“You believe that I killed a woman upon a neighboring estate,” he said, “carried her body through the grounds during an engagement party, returned to the card room without anyone noticing my absence, and persuaded every witness to lie on my behalf.”
“When you say it in that manner…”
“In what manner would you prefer I describe your accusation?”
Augusta did not answer, and the duke looked toward Duncan. “Did you speak to the constables?”
“Not yet,” Duncan replied. “We learned of the body this morning while travelling here.”
“Then you know only what appeared in the newspaper, and yet Lady Augusta judged that sufficient evidence to stop a wedding.”
“If I had been correct and said nothing, Phillipa would have been trapped in a marriage with a murderer.” Augusta met his gaze.
Suddenly, she was doubting herself for everything again.
“And because you may be incorrect, you have publicly branded an innocent man a murderer.”
Augusta looked toward Phillipa. Her friend stood very still beside her father, staring at the floor.
Regret struck Augusta with unexpected force.
She had not considered what would happen if Ravenhill could prove his innocence. She had thought only of saving Phillipa. Now the church was emptying, every guest carrying away the same astonishing story.
“I am sorry,” Augusta said quietly. “I truly believed…”
“I am aware of what you believed.” Ravenhill turned away from her and addressed Lord Hewes.
“The scandal sheets will print the accusation by tomorrow morning, perhaps sooner. I will have my solicitor speak to the editors and make clear that there is no evidence against me. The constables may question the guests who saw me during the engagement party. Once this foolishness is settled, the wedding may be rearranged.”
“Rearranged?” Augusta stared at him.
“Yes,” Ravenhill replied. “Unless you intended to prevent the marriage permanently.”
Phillipa finally raised her head. “How long will it take?”
Ravenhill’s expression softened slightly when he looked at her.
“A fortnight, perhaps,” he said. “Long enough for the constables to verify my movements and for the loudest rumors to exhaust themselves. We need not wait longer than that.”
“That seems reasonable,” Lord Hewes nodded. We shall issue a statement explaining that the ceremony was delayed because of an unfounded accusation.”
Augusta felt sick. Phillipa had spent the morning preparing herself to become a duchess. Her family had gathered, the church had been decorated, and every guest had watched her walk toward a man Augusta had publicly called a killer.
“I am so sorry,” Augusta told her. “I believed I was protecting you. I did not think…”
“You have not only damaged the duke’s reputation,” Charity said more quietly. “People will question your judgement and your character and say you invented the story out of jealousy or spite. You may have destroyed your own prospects as thoroughly as you disrupted Phillipa’s marriage.”
Augusta lowered her eyes. She had known there would be consequences when she stood but hadn’t allowed herself to consider their full shape.
Marriage proposals seemed very unimportant beside the possibility of Phillipa being harmed. Yet now that Ravenhill’s alibi had been spoken so plainly, Augusta understood that society might not see courage in her actions. Rather, hysteria, envy, or scandal.
Phillipa crossed the room and removed her veil. She folded it once in her hands, then placed it upon a chair.
“I do not wish to rearrange the wedding,” she said.
“Phillipa, you are upset,” Lord Hewes turned toward her. “That is understandable, but there is no need to make another decision today.”
“You no longer wish to marry me?” Ronan studied her.
“When Augusta stood, I was horrified. I believed she had humiliated both of us and thrown away her own reputation for a suspicion she could not prove,” Phillipa met his eyes
Augusta winced, but Phillipa continued.
“Then the ceremony stopped,” she said, “and before I understood what had happened, I felt relieved. I was with His Grace for most of the night, so I knew that the accusation was not correct but it came at a time that benefited me. That much I cannot deny.”
The room became still, and everyone seemed to be in shock trying to absorb what was being said.
Surely, no one had expected Phillipa to say such a thing. It was usual for a bride to be to be so direct.
Phillipa turned to Ronan.
“You have treated me honorably. I will not pretend otherwise, nor will I allow anyone to say that you pressured me into this match. You were direct about what you wanted, and I accepted because I believed the marriage was too advantageous to refuse. However, now I realize that I accepted for every reason except the one that matters to me.”
He regarded her without visible offence. “Which reason is that?” he asked after a moment.
There seemed to be no anger in his voice either. Which was a rare thing. Usually, men did not take very kindly to being turned down.
“I want to love the man I marry,” Phillipa said. “I tried to convince myself that respect would be enough and that affection might follow in time. But when the wedding stopped, I was not afraid of losing you; rather, I was grateful for the chance to reconsider.”
Lord Hewes’s face tightened. “Phillipa, this match would protect your future and your brothers’ inheritance. You would be foolish to think otherwise, and now is not the time to make careless statements such as this.”
Phillipa was quiet again for a moment. It was clear that she had given a lot of thought to whatever it was that she was saying here, and that it would be difficult to change her mind.
“I know what it would do for the family,” she replied. “That is why I came so close to marrying a man I scarcely know. But if I continue now, I shall spend the rest of my life wondering whether I was too afraid to wait for something more.”
Ravenhill remained silent for several moments. Everyone seemed to expect him to object. Augusta watched his hand upon the cane, wondering whether anger would finally break through his restraint.
But he surprised everyone with his next words.
“I understand,” he said simply.
“I…” Phillipa tried to explain further.
“Enough of it,” he said and then turned to Augusta. “But I don’t forgive you for this.”
Augusta looked back at him, suddenly fearing him.
“You accused me publicly of the most serious crime a man can commit. By evening, there will not be a drawing room in London where my name is not joined to the word murderer.”
“I will tell everyone I was mistaken,” she said.
“You cannot recall words now,” his tone was serious. “It is irresponsible of you to think that you can make a claim so serious, and then simply walk back on it.”
Duncan stepped forward, offering a protective role.
“Ravenhill, my family owes you an apology. Augusta acted rashly, and I accept responsibility for whatever damage follows. If there is a way to make amends, name it.”
Ravenhill considered him for a moment. His anger was still visible, and Augusta wondered what it would take for it to calm down. There was something menacing about him. He seemed like a perfect gentleman, but at the same time, he appeared someone who could do considerable harm if he wished.
“I do not yet know what amends will satisfy me,” he said. “But I will think of something. You will have to wait until I arrive at a conclusion.”
Duncan inclined his head. “You have my word that I will repay the injury.”
“I shall hold you to that promise.”
Augusta felt a chill run down her spine.
It all seemed rather ominous, and she didn’t know what this promise might entail.
Surely, the duke would not wish to exact revenge.
That would place her in a difficult position, and she didn’t have the same social leverage that he possessed to get her out of a difficult situation.
Ravenhill’s gaze returned to Augusta and moved over her slowly, from the careful arrangement of her hair to the hands she had clasped before her.
There was no admiration in the look. It felt more like an assessment, as though he were deciding precisely how much trouble she had brought into his life and what he intended to do about it.
Augusta fought the urge to step back.
Ravenhill rested both hands upon the silver head of his cane.
“I will visit Blackstone Manor very soon,” he said. “When I do, Your Grace, I expect to receive the payment you have offered.”
Duncan’s expression remained steady. “You will be received.”
Ravenhill looked at Augusta once more. She could not tell whether the coldness in his face came from fury or calculation, only that the sight of the silver raven beneath his hand made the memory of the garden rise again.
Augusta was not someone who ever made rash decisions. If anything, her discernment was something that she was rather proud of. So how was it possible that she had made such a grave error? Was it really true that she had assumed incorrectly?
She had been so sure at the moment, and now she didn’t know if she could believe her own self.
Was I really mistaken?