“Do you think so?”
“Aye. It’s blatantly obvious, lad. If ye want her to be yers, I reckon she will be.”
“I have been wondering about asking her out for a stroll or maybe to luncheon if she can spare the time one day. Except ladies’ maids don’t get much time off so—”
“Leave it with me, Claus. I’ll make sure Miss Russell can manage without her on occasion.”
Claus answered with a broad smile. “Thank you, Blayne. I appreciate that.”
“Think nothing of it.” They arrived at the church where the vicar stood waiting. Guthrie and Regina had also arrived together with Marcus and a few other people.
“Are you ready?” Guthrie asked once Blayne had finished greeting everyone and they’d headed inside. “Or is your stomach one big knot the way mine was when I waited here for my bride?”
“I must confess I feel like a tangled mess inside.”
Guthrie grinned and gave him a slap on the back as they moved toward the altar where they would await Charlotte’s arrival. “It will ease the moment you see her step through those doors. Mark my word.”
Blayne answered with a stiff nod and took his position with Guthrie by his side. He dipped his head occasionally in acknowledgement of guests arriving and was surprised by how many peers showed up. The Dukes of Huntley, Coventry, and Redding were all in attendance together with their wives, as was Redding’s brother, Mr. Lowell and his wife, the former Duchess of Tremaine. Besides them, Blayne spotted the Earl of Fielding who sat with his wife a bit further back. And then there were the Earl and Countess of Warwick along with a slew of other people Blayne didn’t know. Charlotte’s parents must have invited them all, which had to mean they’d truly changed their minds about him or else they’d have favored a more discreet event.
Blayne straightened his spine and scanned the pews for that one face he hoped not to see. He couldn’t help it. After looking over his shoulder for almost twenty years, he had to be certain his uncle would not leap from the shadows at the last second and ruin everything. Blayne’s stomach tightened. If they could just get through the next hour, he and Charlotte could slip away quietly into obscurity.
“Take a deep breath,” Guthrie said with a chuckle. “You look like you’re getting strangled by your cravat.”
It did feel a bit snug. Blayne fought the urge to reach up and give it a tug. And then the organ began to play and a choir started to sing and he simply forgot all about it. Because, there she was, stunning as ever in simple ivory silk. A veil pinned to her bonnet gave the illusion of misty clouds swirling around her luminous face.
Blayne’s heart stumbled in response to her ethereal beauty, but then his world righted itself and the anxiety he’d experienced earlier dissipated just as Guthrie had said it would. Everyone else faded away, disappearing into the background. The only person who existed for him in that moment was Charlotte. Love shone in her eyes and happiness drew her lips into a wide smile.
“I barely slept one wink last night,” she whispered as soon as she reached him. “Thank goodness we’re finally here.”
“I couldnae agree with ye more,” he murmured as he took her arm. Turning, he guided her forward a couple of steps so they could face the vicar together.
“Dearly beloved,” the vicar intoned, “we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”
Blayne did his best to stay perfectly still so as not to look too impatient while the vicar continued. He spoke of marriage being rooted in the church, of its sanctity, and how one should enter the sacred institution for the right reasons.
“Therefore,” the vicar said in even tones, “if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”
A deliberate pause followed. Blayne held his breath. And expelled it as soon as the vicar turned the page in his book of scripture.
“I require,” the vicar continued, “to—”
“Objection!”
Blayne’s blood froze in response to that voice. He couldn’t move, could only stand there, helpless, while the world crashed down around him. The vicar gave him a questioning glance. At his side, Blayne could sense Charlotte’s shock.
“Proceed.” Guthrie’s firm voice sounded from somewhere nearby.
“If ye do this, James,” Seamus said, his voice echoing through the church, “yer wife will have to endure the ensuing scandal and the burden of yer sins. Is that what ye want?”
Slowly, so as not to shatter if he moved too quickly, Blayne turned to face the bastard from whom he’d been hiding for most of his life.
“Who is James?” someone asked amid additional whispers.
Blayne stared down his uncle who stood near the exit. The years had whitened his hair and his beard. They’d also transformed the large and dangerous highlander Blayne remembered into a much smaller man who looked almost frail. He’d not come alone though. Blayne knew the chief magistrate well enough by sight now to recognize him immediately.
So. This was it then. He’d been defeated at the last second.
Resigned, he turned to Charlotte, the one person he cared for and to whom he owed more than any apology could convey. Her eyes were wide and imploring. Tears clung to her lashes. “I’m sorry, lass, but I cannae do this to ye.”
