Page 13 of A Bride for the Scottish Duke
“She did not know,” Lady Charity suddenly said, stepping closer to him, so close that her arm brushed against his—an odd but not unwelcome sensation. “I did not want to tell her yet. That is why I turned down your proposal this morning. Because I was already wed.” She sounded confident and self-assured, though Eammon knew it was not so by the way she grabbed onto him as if for dear life.
“You mean to tell me you wed in secret? What, did you dash off to Gretna Green?” Markham shook his head in disgust.
“Of course not,” Eammon said, pushing his chest out. “We wed at the local registry office. As a peer, you should be aware that due to the Marriage Act of 1836, those who wish can wed in a registry office, which is what we chose to do.”
He looked at Charity, who nodded. For once, Eammon was grateful that his father always insisted he read every bill of law that passed through the House of Lords; looking at Markham, he appeared taken aback. Had he not known? Or forgotten? The law was new and suited mostly non-Anglicans who wished to wed without the restrictions imposed by the Church of England. Thus, he may not have concerned himself with it.
“You, the daughter of a peer, of an upstanding Anglican, chose to wed in a registry office? I am to believe that?” Markham scoffed.
“You must believe it, for it is indeed the truth,” Charity said, and Eammon admired her resolve.
“I think you are telling tall tales, Leith,” Markham said, stepping closer, one hand in the air with his index finger wagging.
Eammon pursed his lips and took a half step forward before smoothly waving his hand before him to push down Markham's finger. “I shall not permit the viscount of a most obscure county to wag his finger in my presence. I am the Duke of Leith, and we are not friends. Therefore you will address me as Your Grace or Duke. Understood?”
Markham stepped back, and a vein popped on his forehead as rage filled him.
“I cannot accept your words, I shall challenge this,” he wagged his finger again, but then quickly dropped it.
“You can't,” Eammon said. “We have all the documentation. And a witness.”
“Do you?” Markham said and sneered. “And who might that be? A trusted friend?”
Eammon hesitated for the first time. He had hoped to name his cousin Thomas as his witness, but now he saw this might not be ideal as he'd been questioned, given they were so close.
“As well as a lady of the high society,” a woman's voice said from the right. He turned and saw the young woman who had been with Charity inside. He vaguely knew her but could not think of her name.
“Lady Millie?” Markham looked utterly shocked, and beside him, Lady Charity jerked, which pushed her even closer to him. “You are a part of this theater? I always knew you were eccentric but this is beneath even you.”
“Millie?” Lady Charity whispered, her voice uncertain.
The young woman, whose countenance was full of certainty and determination, smiled. “Indeed, Lord Markham. I was a witness to my cousin's marriage to His Grace. They wished to keep it private for the time being and thus did not tell my aunt just yet, but it seems thanks to your theatrics, they will be forced to tell her now.”
Markham looked from her to Eammon and then rested his eyes on Charity, who shifted from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable.
“Is that so?” he said.
“Indeed, Lady Millie and my cousin, Thomas Banfield, Marquess of Ruslip, were witnesses when we wed. I will be more than happy to provide any proof you require,” he said, hoping he sounded confident, for he did not feel it.
“Very well. I shall congratulate you then, I suppose, if it is true,” Markham said and turned to stalk back inside the house. “Although we will see about that.”
He glared at them with contempt but then stalked away, leaving behind a thickness in the air that was most oppressive.
Once he was gone, Lady Millie walked up to him. “Your Grace, I do hope your intentions toward my cousin are honorable.”
“I give you my word, my intentions are solely to protect your cousin from harm. My intentions are honorable, indeed.”
Were they? Were they truly? Perhaps in part. Enough for the statement to not feel like a lie.
“Very well then, but you must make a plan. You cannot declare yourself married and then not produce evidence. I will support you, Your Grace, but you will have to make this lie a reality quickly,” she said and he nodded at once.
“I intend to.” he said.
Charity looked at him then. “You must both have been in your cups if you think I will agree to this. Just because I do not have to marry Markham does not mean I am happy about this. This was not my choice. I do not understand any of this. Why must I marry you to be protected? From what? From whom?”
“From men like Markham,” he said. “And many others like him. With me, you will be safe, I promise you that.”
“And I am to simply believe you?” she challenged him.
