Page 11 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

The church erupted as voices rose from every side. Guests twisted in their seats, demanding explanations from one another as though anyone but Augusta could provide them. A woman near the rear gave a loud gasp, while several gentlemen stood to obtain a better view.

Charity pulled Augusta down by the wrist.

“What have you done?” she whispered fiercely.

At the front of the church, Lord Hewes had risen and moved toward his daughter. Phillipa remained beside the duke, her face almost entirely without color.

In all this, Duke Ravenhill had not moved. His stillness was more alarming than an outburst might have been. One hand remained upon his cane while the other closed slowly at his side. His gaze settled upon Augusta with such cold intensity that the noise around them seemed to fade.

The officiant attempted to restore order, but no one listened. Duncan stood and placed himself partly between Augusta and the aisle..

The tapping of his cane against the stone floor cut through the surrounding voices as he approached. Guests moved out of his way without being asked. When he stopped before Augusta, his expression was controlled, but there was no mistaking his fury.

“You will explain that accusation,” he said.

“I intend to.” Augusta rose again, though Charity still held her arm.

He looked toward Duncan, then Charity. “You and your family will follow me.”

“My wife and sister will go nowhere with you unless I accompany them.” Duncan’s expression darkened.

Ravenhill’s gaze shifted to him. “I included you when I said, family.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned toward Lord Hewes. “Bring Phillipa,” he said. “We will settle this away from the guests.”

Lord Hewes looked as though he wished to object to being ordered about in his own daughter’s wedding, but the disorder in the church left little room for argument. He took Phillipa’s arm and led her toward the side passage as Ravenhill followed.

Duncan offered Augusta his arm, though his face made clear that the gesture was not optional.

“Come,” he said. “And do not say another word until we are behind a closed door.”

Augusta allowed him to guide her. As they passed the watching guests, fragments of conversation reached her.

Murder.

The words spread through the chapel faster than any explanation could have contained them. Charity walked beside Augusta until they entered the small withdrawing room behind the chapel. The moment the door closed, she turned upon her.

“Have you any notion of what you have just done?” she demanded.

Augusta had never heard her sister speak to her in that tone.

“I stopped Phillipa from marrying a man I believe to be dangerous.”

“You accused a duke of murder before half the most influential families in England,” Charity replied.

“I had no other opportunity.”

“You had every opportunity,” Charity said. “This should not be something that you should have involved yourself in, and if anything, you could have told us quietly.”

“The ceremony was already underway. I could not have…she would have become his wife by then.”

Lord Hewes, who had been speaking quietly to his daughter near the window, turned toward them.

“My daughter has not become anyone’s wife,” he said. “For which I suppose you ought to be congratulated, Lady Augusta. You have ensured that much.”

Phillipa stood beside him with her veil pushed back from her face. She looked shocked rather than angry, which Augusta found more difficult to bear.

“I am sorry,” Augusta said to her. “I know what this has done to you, but I could not remain silent.”