Page 25 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

“They are waiting for you to object,” Charity corrected. “It would complete the story beautifully if the bride interrupted her own ceremony.”

Augusta looked toward the chapel again and caught sight of several ladies leaning toward one another in conversation. “They do not even attempt to appear discreet.”

“No one behaves discreetly when convinced that a scandal may occur at any moment,” Charity said, taking Augusta’s hands and drawing her away from the doorway. “You must stop looking at them.”

“You’re asking me a hard thing.”

“You may still tell me that you do not wish to proceed,” she said quietly. “Duncan will take you home, and we will take care of you. Surely, it will cause some scandal, but none of that matters if you have changed your mind.”

Augusta wondered if she should take the offer, but then knew that it wasn’t an option.

“I have not changed my mind. Trust me.”

Charity smiled, though her eyes remained serious. “Are you frightened of him?”

Augusta considered the question before answering. “I am frightened of not knowing him. He is to become my husband within the hour, and I still cannot read him.”

“Duncan was not much easier at first,” Charity replied. “There was a time when he believed a stern expression and a command were sufficient to convey all the sentiments a woman might reasonably require.”

“How did you cure him of that?”

“I refused to obey.”

Augusta gave her a doubtful look. “That seems to be your solution to many difficulties.”

Charity moved behind Augusta and adjusted the fall of her veil. The pale green gown they had chosen was simple by society’s standards. Augusta had rejected a heavier veil and every suggestion of excessive ornament.

She had already supplied society with spectacle enough.

“What if his daughter dislikes me?” Augusta asked. It was something that she had considered, and it made her nervous.

Charity’s hands stilled.

“She may dislike you at first,” she answered honestly. “Children are not always grateful, and they have their own personalities. You must allow her time.”

A knock sounded at the door before Augusta could reply. Duncan entered, dressed in formal black, his expression composed until he looked at her. Then something softened in his face.

“Are you ready?”

“No,” Augusta replied.

Charity came forward and kissed Augusta’s cheek. “You need not be certain of everything today. You need only be certain that this is the choice you wish to make.”

Augusta looked from her sister to Duncan, then placed her hand upon his arm.

The church fell silent when the doors opened. Augusta had expected whispers, and there were a few, hurriedly smothered by the beginning of the music, but most of the guests merely turned and stared. Their attention pressed upon her from every direction as she began walking beside Duncan.

She kept her eyes ahead as Ronan stood before the officiant.

He wore black, as he had at Phillipa’s wedding, though today the severe color was relieved by a silver waistcoat. His cane rested beneath one hand, the raven-shaped handle catching the light from the windows.

For one brief instant, Augusta remembered rain and darkness. But as Ronan looked at her, the memory vanished.

His gaze remained fixed upon her as she approached, and there was something in the intensity of it that made every step feel unsteady. He did not glance toward Duncan or the gathered guests. In fact, he scarcely appeared to breathe.

Augusta resisted the urge to inspect her gown. Charity had assured her that nothing was misplaced, but the longer Ronan stared, the more convinced she became that some detail had gone wrong.

When she reached him, Duncan placed her hand into Ronan’s. Her future husband continued looking at her face.