Blayne straightened his spine and scanned the pews for that one face he hoped not to see. He couldn’t help it. After looking over his shoulder for almost twenty years, he had to be certain his uncle would not leap from the shadows at the last second and ruin everything. Blayne’s stomach tightened. If they could just get through the next hour, he and Charlotte could slip away quietly into obscurity.
“Take a deep breath,” Guthrie said with a chuckle. “You look like you’re getting strangled by your cravat.”
It did feel a bit snug. Blayne fought the urge to reach up and give it a tug. And then the organ began to play and a choir started to sing and he simply forgot all about it. Because, there she was, stunning as ever in simple ivory silk. A veil pinned to her bonnet gave the illusion of misty clouds swirling around her luminous face.
Blayne’s heart stumbled in response to her ethereal beauty, but then his world righted itself and the anxiety he’d experienced earlier dissipated just as Guthrie had said it would. Everyone else faded away, disappearing into the background. The only person who existed for him in that moment was Charlotte. Love shone in her eyes and happiness drew her lips into a wide smile.
“I barely slept one wink last night,” she whispered as soon as she reached him. “Thank goodness we’re finally here.”
“I couldnae agree with ye more,” he murmured as he took her arm. Turning, he guided her forward a couple of steps so they could face the vicar together.
“Dearly beloved,” the vicar intoned, “we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”
Blayne did his best to stay perfectly still so as not to look too impatient while the vicar continued. He spoke of marriage being rooted in the church, of its sanctity, and how one should enter the sacred institution for the right reasons.
“Therefore,” the vicar said in even tones, “if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”
A deliberate pause followed. Blayne held his breath. And expelled it as soon as the vicar turned the page in his book of scripture.
“I require,” the vicar continued, “to—”
“Objection!”
Blayne’s blood froze in response to that voice. He couldn’t move, could only stand there, helpless, while the world crashed down around him. The vicar gave him a questioning glance. At his side, Blayne could sense Charlotte’s shock.
“Proceed.” Guthrie’s firm voice sounded from somewhere nearby.
“If ye do this, James,” Seamus said, his voice echoing through the church, “yer wife will have to endure the ensuing scandal and the burden of yer sins. Is that what ye want?”
Slowly, so as not to shatter if he moved too quickly, Blayne turned to face the bastard from whom he’d been hiding for most of his life.
“Who is James?” someone asked amid additional whispers.
Blayne stared down his uncle who stood near the exit. The years had whitened his hair and his beard. They’d also transformed the large and dangerous highlander Blayne remembered into a much smaller man who looked almost frail. He’d not come alone though. Blayne knew the chief magistrate well enough by sight now to recognize him immediately.
So. This was it then. He’d been defeated at the last second.
Resigned, he turned to Charlotte, the one person he cared for and to whom he owed more than any apology could convey. Her eyes were wide and imploring. Tears clung to her lashes. “I’m sorry, lass, but I cannae do this to ye.”
“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.