Page 10 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

Augusta felt that her entire world had just come to a halt.

The cane was the same as she had seen from the night at the ball, with a silver raven on top.

Suddenly, it all fell into place, and she gasped loudly as the realization occurred to her.

The duke was the murderer.

Could it really be?

CHAPTER 3

The first words of the ceremony passed Augusta without meaning, and her attention remained fixed upon the silver raven beneath the Duke of Ravenhill’s hand.

There could not be two canes so perfectly alike. Surely, this was too big a coincidence.

Phillipa stood before that same man, prepared to bind herself to him for the rest of her life.

To her credit, she appeared composed beneath her veil. Only Augusta knew what she had admitted in the room behind the chapel. Even though he hadn’t been her first choice, it still had been premised on the assumption that he was an honorable man. It made her heart sink.

Charity touched Augusta’s arm again, her concern deepening.

“You are trembling,” she whispered. “Are you unwell?”

Augusta shook her head, though she could not drag her eyes from the duke.

“We must speak outside,” Charity murmured. “Whatever is troubling you can wait until the ceremony is finished.”

Every word the officiant spoke brought Phillipa closer to becoming Ravenhill’s wife. Once the vows were exchanged, there would be no simple way to free her. Augusta knew enough of marriage to understand that a husband could isolate his wife, dismiss her fears, and keep her beneath his authority without anyone questioning his right to do so.

What would happen if Phillipa discovered the truth after the wedding?

The duke’s gaze remained upon Phillipa, but Augusta could not forget the moment he had looked toward her. She had seen no recognition in his face. Perhaps the darkness had concealed her as thoroughly as his hood had concealed him. If he had recognized her, he possessed enough control not to show it.

The thought made Augusta’s skin turn cold.

The officiant continued in an even voice, asking the duke whether he would take Phillipa as his lawful wife. Ravenhill answered without hesitation.

“I will.” his voice was deep and controlled, exactly as Augusta might have expected from his appearance.

Phillipa gave the same answer when the question was put to her, though her voice was quieter.

Augusta’s fingers tightened, and Charity turned sharply toward her. “Augusta, you’ve gone pale, and I’m getting really worried for you.”

But it was easy to tune her out. At the front of the church, the officiant reached the final portion of the ceremony.

“If any person present knows of any lawful impediment why these two should not be joined in matrimony, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”

Augusta knew that it was now or never.

She stood.

The movement drew every eye in the church toward her. For one terrible instant, she could not find her voice. She saw Phillipa turn beneath her veil, and Duke Ravenhill looked directly at Augusta, his expression unreadable.

“This wedding cannot continue,” Augusta said, her eyes fixed on the cane.

“Augusta?” Phillipa stared at her.

“The Duke of Ravenhill is a murderer.”