“H—how dare you? What do you have against me?”
“It is a matter of honor, you see. Not a personal grudge,” he continued. “One I could not, in good conscience, ignore. I felt it my duty to inform the people it affects—before it is too late.”
That was all it took.
With a wordless growl, Harry stormed forward, fists clenched at his sides, his entire body seething with rage as he charged down the aisle toward Evan.
Evan did not move. Instead, he merely stood there. And then, Hartenshire stumbled. Finally,he had realized the mistake he was making by squaring up to a duke.
“Something wrong, Lord Hartenshire?” Evan murmured, taunting him.
Hartenshire’s nostrils flared, his fists twitching at his sides, but he did not take another step forward.
Because now, he understood that he had already lost.
George, however, intervened first before any further words could be exchanged.
“Enough!” George bellowed, stepping between them. His face was red with fury though it was unclear whether it was directed more at Evan or at the Marquess himself.
Harry was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with barely restrained rage.
“If what the Duke of Giltburg is saying has any merit, then this wedding cannot continue.” George turned to him, his voice sharp with finality.
Isadora blinked, standing up in the crowd now. She wanted to run over to her sister and cry happy tears, but the confrontation was not over just yet.
“I will not have my daughter married to a scoundrel who intends to use her fortune to clean up his own disgrace. Consider this wedding called off,” George said.
The father of the bride had spoken, and the Marquess had no more ground to stand on. His mouth opened as if to protest, but George cut him off.
“And I suggest you never darken my doorstep again.”
A stunned silence followed, broken only by the whispers that now swirled like a storm among the guests.
Harry looked like he would implode at any given moment. His entire body trembled with rage. But he was outnumbered. The damage had been done.
Isadora could hardly believe it.
She rushed over to Penelope, whose eyes were wide, her hands still gripping her bouquet. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Penelope exhaled, a shuddering breath of relief, and Isadora’s entire body loosened.
She barely heard the whispers of the guests around them, barely registered George mumbling something about how he could have been so deceived. None of it mattered.
The wedding had been stopped.
The moment the ceremony was officially called off, people began to rise, some pretending to be horrified while secretly thrilled by the gossip they would carry home. It would not take long for the word to spread.
But that was the least of Isadora’s concerns.
It had worked!
Public humiliation by a man who ranked higher in status. That was all it had taken. Had Isadora made the same claims, George would never have believed her. But even he—as awful as he was—had a reputation to protect.
“Oh, Isadora,” Penelope said, crying now. But with happy tears. “Did you plan this? Were you behind all of this?”
“I made a promise to you not to let you marry that horrible man. Now, please, let us get away from this mess. We shall never have to think of this again.”
“But how?” Penelope questioned, still in disbelief. “How did you manage to do this?”
“I told you before that it is my responsibility to protect you,” Isadora smiled, “so the means do not matter here. All that does is that you are not bound to that horrible man anymore.”
