Chapter Fifteen
Harriet felt the world spin and the light from the candles blurred as the words sank in.
Noooo…She sagged against Paul, who was shaking a little himself.
Then a surge of fury swept through her and she straightened, turned, put her hands on her hips and glared down the darkened nave. “Who thehellare you that you dare interrupt us? And what possible reasons could you have? I demand you tell us immediately, without prevarication mind you.”
She took a couple of steps down from the alter, still half-blinded by the candles, able to see only a silhouette nearing her. She’d never felt this kind of anger; a fire that burned inside her, rising up until it threatened to choke her. “Come on then, you…you…miserable excuse for a man. Face us with your charge if you dare.”
“Well I will if you’ll be quiet for a moment.” The Earl of Vernwood gazed at her in amusement. “I swear if you had a sword you’d run me through, wouldn’t you?”
“I…er…my Lord…oh dear.” The anger and fire subsided, leaving Harriet to experience a crushing amount of embarrassment.
“Sir,” said Paul, coming to stand at Harriet’s side. “Do you really mean to stop our marriage?”
“Not at all,” said the Earl, nodding to the silent shocked people around the altar. “I merely wish to ensure its legality by informing your Vicar here of your correct name.”
“Uh…what?” Paul’s usual composure deserted him, and Harriet couldn’t help but notice his jaw had dropped. “What name? I’m me. Paul DeVoreaux.”
“Well now, you see that’s where you’re mistaken.”
“I don’t…but…huh?” Once again, words deserted Paul.
Harriet dashed to the rescue. “I think he means to ask what the devil you’re talking about.” She caught herself up. “Uh, my Lord.”
Vernwood sighed and put his cloak on one of the pews. From the pocket he extracted what looked like a long and official document. There was even a seal at the bottom over a small red ribbon.
“This is what I’m talking about.” He held up the paper. “I received this missive earlier this evening by special courier. It has come from London, from friends of mine in Whitehall. Quite high up in Whitehall, I might add. In it, you will find that…” he glanced at the writing, “…the matter of the estate of Viscount Alderton Hayward has been settled. The line of succession has rightfully passed to the decedent’s nephew, Paul DeVoreaux, now that this heir has been formally pardoned of all wrongdoing and welcomed back to the shores of his native land. Henceforth he shall be correctly known as Paul DeVoreaux, Viscount Hayward, and his estate shall be endowed with all the holdings and finances accompanying such elevation.”
The Earl looked up. “There’s more, but it’s a bit boring. I think you understand the gist of it.” He rolled the document back up neatly. “Therefore, Miss Harriet, I interrupted your wedding so that you could marry the man who is now legally a Viscount. Had it been otherwise, had he signed the parish registry with any other name, there might still have been grounds for your damn family to interfere.”
She blinked. “Youknowabout that? About them?”
His smile was pure charm. “My dear girl, I know about them. About you. About Paul and his family.” He glanced at Tabby. “Hello Tabitha.”
She curtseyed. “My Lord.”
“James.”
James grinned. “I should have guessed. Your conversation yesterday was probing to say the least.”
“This is all very fascinating, and I mean no offense, my Lord, but could we possibly finish the wedding ceremony please?” Letitia lifted her chin. “Everything else can wait.”
“Of course, Lady FitzArden.” He turned to Simon. “If you could just repeat the bits with Paul’s new title, all will be well.”
Simon cleared his throat. “Right then. We try again. Repeat after me. I Paul—er whatever your new name is—take thee Harriet Anne Selkirk…oh go on then. You know the rest.” He closed his bible and threw his hands in the air. “Bless you both. You’re married. Just say yes and kiss the bride.”
“Yes.”
And just like that, Paul gained a wife, a Viscountcy, and what might well be a tidy fortune.
He lifted his head from kissing his bride thoroughly, and looked at the assembled throng, smiling at him with warmth and affection.
He choked back a most unmanly sob, took a breath and hugged Harriet close. “Happy Christmas everyone. Happy Christmas.”
*~~*~~*
The parish registry was duly signed and witnessed, all parties involved verified the marriage of Paul DeVoreaux, Viscount Hayward, to Harriet Anne Selkirk.
