Page 7 of Marry in Secret
“Duke?” Rutherford repeated. “Are you coming?”
Duke?Rose had been about to marrya duke? Might explain why she seemed so upset. Might explain the anger he’d heard in her voice.
Belatedly he recalled Ollie shouting something at him as he’d raced off, something about “the wedding of the season,” but he hadn’t stopped to listen. Ollie had just told him that Rose was getting married at eleven and Thomas hadn’t waited to hear another thing. He’d taken off running, running like a madman, cutting through alleys and across parks.
He’d only just made it in time.
The duke turned a basilisk gaze on Thomas, raked him slowly from head to toe. Thomas, unmoved, gave him look for look. Rose was his. And nobody, not family, not a duke, not an angry congregation waving sticks was going to stop him claiming her.
The duke turned to Rose’s brother and lifted one indifferent shoulder. “It’s your mess, Ashendon, you deal with it.”
Ashendon?Rose’s father must be dead if Cal Rutherford was now Lord Ashendon. And what had happened to the older brother? Dead too, he supposed.
Not that it made any difference to Thomas.
The duke stepped forward and addressed the congregation in a bored voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your attendance but I’m afraid your time—and mine—has been wasted. There will be no wedding today.” He picked up his hat and strolled from the church, apparently obliviousof the murmurs and whispers that followed his progress, quite as if he hadn’t just been effectively jilted.
His best man hesitated, then snatched up his hat and hurried after him. The door banged shut behind them.
Rose’s brother swore under his breath.
None of the congregation moved. They were all waiting to see what happened.
The bishop opened the door to the vestry. A thin, elegant, elderly lady—the one who’d ordered him tossed back into the gutter—rose to her feet. “I will be part of this discussion,” she declared.
The bishop smirked indulgently. “Dear Lady Salter, this sordid business is not for ladies. We gentlemen will sort it—”
Lady Salter. Thomas recalled that Rose had a sweet aunt and a scary one. He’d met the sweet one, so this must be Aunt Agatha.
She skewered the bishop with a glare. “Pshaw! I arranged a brilliant match for my niece—a duke!—and if some ragged scarecrow thinks he can set it aside with some spurious false claim...” She directed a contemptuous look at the scarecrow.
Meet the in-laws. The scarecrow couldn’t help himself—he winked at her.
The old lady swelled with indignation, but before she could damn his impudence, the bishop distracted her by saying, “Lady Salter, this is a complicated matter better suited to a masculine understanding.”
She fixed him with a scathing glare. “Masculine understanding? Pshaw! Weddings are women’s business!”
The bishop opened his mouth, ready to argue the case, when a voice from the doorway drew everyone’s attention. “I vouch for Commander Beresford and the truth of his claim.” As one the congregation swiveled toward the speaker. Thomas’s friend Ollie had finally arrived.
Ollie strolled down the aisle quite as if he weren’t the cynosure of all eyes. “I gather you made it in time,” he said to Thomas.
“And who might you be?” Ashendon snapped.
Ollie made a graceful bow. “Oliver Yelland of the Navy Board, at your service. Sorry I’m late. Things to arrange, cab to catch, jarvey to be paid.”
“Yelland? Yelland?” Lady Salter said irritably. “Never heard of you. What are you doing, poking that long nose into other people’s affairs? You have no business here, sirrah, so—”
“On the contrary, madam, business here extremely pertinent.” His glance took in the group gathered by the vestry entrance. “Known Thomas Beresford any time these last ten years. Vouch for him absolutely.”
At Ashendon’s skeptical snort, he added, “Doubt my veracity? Admiral Sir Thomas Byam Martin—Comptroller of the Navy—will vouch for me.”
“That’s as may be, but what—” Ashendon began.
“Am a witness.”
“Witness?” snapped Lady Salter. “This is a private family matter. We don’t need any more witnesses.” She shook her cane at the listening wedding guests. “We have far too many of the dratted things as it is. Now, be off with you.”
“Witness to the bride’s wedding,” Ollie said sweetly. “Theoriginalone. I was Thomas’s best man.”
