The minister asked the congregation to bow their heads in prayer for the happy couple. She expected David to drop her hand, but he didn’t. Nor did he release it when they sat down for the rest of the service.
Was he softening toward her at last? She hardly dared hope. But holding his hand made her heart ache with yearning.
The way she felt about David was so different from her sentiments toward Jeffrey. Her former fiancé’s jests had made her laugh, and his irreverent flirtations gave her butterflies. He was always tempting her to misbehave, and the more she rebelled, the better he liked it. But David made no effort to seduce. He didn’t try to entertain her. What he offered instead was something deeper. Her flighty nature found stability and comfort—a rock she recognized as one which would support her in her darkest hour. With David by her side, she could face anything.
Or so she thought, until she overheard a loud whisper behind her. “Lord Effingham says she’s carrying his child.”
The sanctuary turned suddenly cold, and all her breath rushed out of her.
“I suppose Whitcomb doesn’t mind after what happened with his first wife. Once a cuckold, always a cuckold,” someone else whispered back.
David released her hand and stiffened beside her. He clenched his fists until they shook, and she dared a glance at his face. His eyes were shut tightly, and a deep flush crept up his neck until he was positively crimson.
She reached for his hand, brushing it with her fingers, but he flinched away. He didn’t believe Lord Effingham’s lies, did he? She couldn’t bear to lose him. She simply couldn’t! He was too dear to her. And under the censorious gazes of the entire ton, she needed her knight in shining armor more than ever.
Swallowing hard, she fought back the tears of humiliation that prickled the corners of her eyes. How could Jeffrey be so cruel? It was bad enough to claim they had anticipated their vows, but no. He had to complete his humiliation and try to drive away the one man who was willing to stand by her side.
And poor David! Cuckolded! Now his reaction to her mention of his wife made sense. No wonder he couldn’t stand to speak of her. And he must have been wondering at that very moment if history was repeating itself. She couldn’t blame him under the circumstances, even if his reaction cut her to the quick.
The urge to flee almost overwhelmed her, and it was all she could do to stay in her seat through the remainder of the service. As soon as the final benediction had been given, she rushed through the crowd without waiting for her brother or David and out to the street, desperate to escape to the quiet confines of her carriage.
Someone caught her elbow as she fled.
She turned, and Jeffrey stood before her with his smarmy smile. He gripped her arm painfully. “You’re supposed to marry me, darling. I mean to have your money no matter what it takes. Be warned that I will ruin you both you and Whitcomb if you attempt to go through with the wedding. No one crosses me without paying a price.”
“Let go of me, you horrible beast!” She wrenched her arm away and ran to her coach as fast as she could, shutting the door and closing the curtains as soon as she was inside. Jeffrey wouldn’t dare follow her in there. The footmen were under orders from Papa to keep Jeffrey well away.
Alone at last, she slumped against the squabs, giving in to the urge to weep. She always tried to look on the bright side, but even she couldn’t find a way to make this anything but an utter disaster. Her good fortune had failed her, and over a stupid,spiteful lie, she was going to lose the man on whom she had her heart set. Lord Whitcomb would most likely never speak to her again. No doubt he was headed to The Lyon’s Den that very moment to ask Mrs. Dove-Lyon for a different match.
A knock on the carriage door made her jump. “Go away, Jeffrey. I have nothing to say to you.”
“It’s David. May I come in for a moment?”
Her breath caught at the sound of his voice. He hadn’t fled? Hewantedto speak with her? Perhaps her luck hadn’t failed her after all! “Yes, please!”
The carriage door opened, and David stepped in, taking a seat opposite her and leaving the door open a crack…as if propriety still mattered at a moment like this. “I asked your father if I might have a word with you, and he agreed. Have you been crying?”
Oh, heavens! She must have looked a fright after bawling her eyes out like that. Her fingers flew to her face, as if she could somehow brush away the redness around her eyes and the streaks down her cheeks. “Yes. I’m sorry you’re seeing me like this.”
He started to reach out and pulled his hand back at the last moment. “Is there any truth to the rumor?” He doubted her. Of course, he did. Given his history, how could he not?
“I swear to you, it’s all a lie. He has not touched me.”
There had to be some way to convince him. His face was hard and blank as he gazed at her with wary eyes.
“If you wish for a long engagement to prove that I’m telling the truth, I’m willing to wait. Please.” She would get on her knees and beg if it would help. A tear streaked down her cheek despite her best efforts to hold it back. Was this the end? Would she ever see her knight again?
He reached out and brushed the tear away before pulling back his hand as if he’d touched fire, then he turned his gaze to his knees.
Her heart swelled with tenuous hope.
At last, he let out a long, slow breath between his teeth. “I will stand by you. You have my word of honor.”
Oh, thank heavens! Another tear slid down her cheek, but it didn’t matter. She hadn’t lost him! Fortune was with her even in the depths of despair.
She might have wrapped her arms around him, throwing caution to the wind, if Papa and Arthur’s voices right outside the carriage hadn’t startled her to her senses. A moment later the door opened, and her father peered in. “Whitcomb, I would like to pay you a visit this afternoon with Clarissa. I believe there are a number of things we must discuss.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” David bowed his head and hurried down from the carriage, taking her heart with him.
