“What do you mean?”
“Marrying ye would be wrong. It always was but then there was Mr. Hallibrand and the threat of scandal and I could see nae way out.”
“Listen to me,” she told him firmly. “I don’t care what that man has to say about you. All I know is that I love you and that I intend to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter what.”
“Ach, luv. If it were so simple, I’d wed ye in a heartbeat. But ye see, what I failed to tell ye because I feared yer reaction was that I’m wanted for murder.” He watched her flinch and decided to add, “I killed my father in cold blood and as much as I’ve tried to escape it, the time has come for me to face the consequence.”
When all she did was stare at him, Blayne turned away and went to meet his uncle while gasps and horrified chatter erupted around him.
It was difficult to fathom how swiftly one’s happiness could be stolen. Only seconds ago Charlotte had been overjoyed with the prospect of building a life for herself with Blayne – a life destined to start a few minutes later once they were pronounced husband and wife. Now, she struggled to hold back tears while the congregation transformed into a chorus of unkind comments and outraged remarks.
She’d been jilted by a man who’d just been declared a criminal worthy of hanging. It didn’t seem possible. In fact, it felt completely surreal.
“Come,” Regina said, her hand gently settling on Charlotte’s arm. “You could probably do with some fresh air and a drink. Guthrie has a flask of brandy in the carriage. I suggest we go and find it.”
Numb, Charlotte forced one foot in front of the other while doing her best to block out the voices around her.
“My God,” her father exclaimed as he bore down upon her. “I knew I shouldn’t trust him and now look at what has happened. It’s deplorable, beyond the pale, utterly ruinous.”
“Please, Lord Elkins,” Regina said while steering Charlotte past him. “You’re not helping.”
“What would you have me do?” he asked.
“Accept the situation for what it is,” Regina said, “and support your daughter. Lord knows she faces a difficult time ahead after what just happened.”
Charlotte didn’t doubt it and with Regina being the daughter of a condemned murderer, she surely knew a thing or two about it. Her friendship was a consolation.
“Here,” Regina said a few minutes later when she and Charlotte were comfortably seated inside the Windham carriage. They’d closed the curtains to block out the world. It was an illusion, of course, but a welcome one at the moment.
Charlotte accepted the flask Regina offered and took a long sip. The spicy brandy slid down her throat to heat her insides. A wonderful sense of calm followed. Charlotte’s head cleared. She pondered the recent events, what that awful man had said and how he’d called Blayne by another name. James. It felt off.
Dismissing Blayne’s possible false identity for a moment, Charlotte thought back on her previous interactions with him and the conversations they’d shared. He’d told her he wouldn’t marry because of his past – that he’d once done something much worse than anything he’d revealed to her. And yet, the man she knew him to be was generous, loving, and kind beyond compare. His personality didn’t square with that of a cold-blooded killer.
Something wasn’t right.
She took another sip from the flask before handing it back to Regina. “I need to speak with your husband.”
“What are you planning?”
“To find out as much as I can about Blayne’s past.” Because nothing seemed to add up. In spite of Blayne’s own assertion of guilt, Charlotte was certain he’d not murdered his father for no good reason. And if that were the case, if there were even the slimmest chance he could be acquitted, she would move heaven and earth in order to find it.
“I must say,” Guthrie drawled when Charlotte voiced her intention to him later, “I’m quite impressed by your willingness to stand by him through this.”
“Blayne has offered me more support these past two months than I have received from anyone, including my own family, for my entire life. Of course I intend to stand by him. And damn anyone who dares to get in my way.”
“Brava,” Marcus said from his position in a nearby armchair.
After informing her parents she’d be home later, Charlotte had returned to Windham House for what she hoped would prove an informative discussion. She’d ignored her father’s protests completely.
“So,” Charlotte said, her eyes focused on Guthrie, “why does Blayne believe he’s guilty of killing his father, and who on earth was the man who stopped us from speaking our vows?”
“In answer to your first question, Blayne believes he killed his father because he did. The man you refer to is his uncle, Mr. Seamus Callanach.”
Guthrie’s calm voice put Charlotte at ease in spite of the damning words he’d just spoken. “Tell me what happened, as precisely as you can.”
“According to what Blayne has told me, he was seventeen years of age when it happened. Apparently, he was woken one night by piercing screams, so he rushed to see what was going on. The noise came from his mother’s bedchamber. When he arrived there he found her pinned against the wall by his father, her expression one of pure terror.” Guthrie knit his brow. “Her lover was on the bed, covered in blood.”
“Dear God,” Charlotte muttered.
