Page 13 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

“That is true,” Lord Hewes nodded slowly.

“I remained in the card room until I left the house,” Ravenhill continued. “I was seen by every man at the table, two servants, and several guests who came and went during the evening. At no point did I visit the lower garden.”

“Someone could have lied for you,” Augusta said, looking at him.

The silence that followed was profound.

“You believe that I killed a woman upon a neighboring estate,” he said, “carried her body through the grounds during an engagement party, returned to the card room without anyone noticing my absence, and persuaded every witness to lie on my behalf.”

“When you say it in that manner…”

“In what manner would you prefer I describe your accusation?”

Augusta did not answer, and the duke looked toward Duncan. “Did you speak to the constables?”

“Not yet,” Duncan replied. “We learned of the body this morning while travelling here.”

“Then you know only what appeared in the newspaper, and yet Lady Augusta judged that sufficient evidence to stop a wedding.”

“If I had been correct and said nothing, Phillipa would have been trapped in a marriage with a murderer.” Augusta met his gaze.

Suddenly, she was doubting herself for everything again.

“And because you may be incorrect, you have publicly branded an innocent man a murderer.”

Augusta looked toward Phillipa. Her friend stood very still beside her father, staring at the floor.

Regret struck Augusta with unexpected force.

She had not considered what would happen if Ravenhill could prove his innocence. She had thought only of saving Phillipa. Now the church was emptying, every guest carrying away the same astonishing story.

“I am sorry,” Augusta said quietly. “I truly believed…”

“I am aware of what you believed.” Ravenhill turned away from her and addressed Lord Hewes. “The scandal sheets will print the accusation by tomorrow morning, perhaps sooner. I will have my solicitor speak to the editors and make clear that there is no evidence against me. The constables may question the guests who saw me during the engagement party. Once this foolishness is settled, the wedding may be rearranged.”

“Rearranged?” Augusta stared at him.

“Yes,” Ravenhill replied. “Unless you intended to prevent the marriage permanently.”

Phillipa finally raised her head. “How long will it take?”

Ravenhill’s expression softened slightly when he looked at her.

“A fortnight, perhaps,” he said. “Long enough for the constables to verify my movements and for the loudest rumors to exhaust themselves. We need not wait longer than that.”

“That seems reasonable,” Lord Hewes nodded. We shall issue a statement explaining that the ceremony was delayed because of an unfounded accusation.”

Augusta felt sick. Phillipa had spent the morning preparing herself to become a duchess. Her family had gathered, the church had been decorated, and every guest had watched her walk toward a man Augusta had publicly called a killer.

“I am so sorry,” Augusta told her. “I believed I was protecting you. I did not think…”

“You have not only damaged the duke’s reputation,” Charity said more quietly. “People will question your judgement and your character and say you invented the story out of jealousy or spite. You may have destroyed your own prospects as thoroughly as you disrupted Phillipa’s marriage.”

Augusta lowered her eyes. She had known there would be consequences when she stood but hadn’t allowed herself to consider their full shape.

Marriage proposals seemed very unimportant beside the possibility of Phillipa being harmed. Yet now that Ravenhill’s alibi had been spoken so plainly, Augusta understood that society might not see courage in her actions. Rather, hysteria, envy, or scandal.

Phillipa crossed the room and removed her veil. She folded it once in her hands, then placed it upon a chair.