Page 56 of A Virgin for His Grace
"Mr. James Whitmore?" the senior officer called out in a voice trained to carry across crowded courtrooms.
"Yes?" Whitmore replied weakly, clearly recognizing that his situation had somehow grown even more desperate.
"You are under arrest for the crime of fraud, specifically for representing yourself as a gentleman of means whilst concealing debts that render you legally insolvent and for threatening a young lady as proven from the letters. You will accompany us immediately."
The final blow struck Whitmore like a physical force, and he swayed on his feet as the full magnitude of his exposure became clear. Not only had his character been revealed before all of society, but he now faced potential imprisonment for his deceptions.
"This is not over," he said with pathetic defiance as the officers moved to escort him from the church. "I will not be destroyed by your machinations, Ravenshollow. There will be consequences."
"The only consequences," Devon replied with quiet authority, "will be those you have earned through your own choices. Take him away, gentlemen. London society has seenquite enough of Mr. Whitmore's character for one day."
As the disgraced fortune-hunter was led from the church in custody, a buzz of excited conversation filled the air. Yet Arabella remained frozen at the altar, struggling to process the dramatic reversal of her fortunes.
"Arabella," Devon said softly, moving to stand before her with an expression that held both hope and trepidation. "I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness after the pain I have caused you. But if you can find it in your heart to trust me once more, I swear to you that I will spend the rest of my life ensuring that you never regret that decision."
She stared up into his beloved face, noting the lines of strain that marked the cost of his deception and the genuine vulnerability that flickered in his dark eyes. Here was the man she had fallen in love with despite all rational thought, the same Devon who had shown her passion and tenderness in equal measure.
"You truly planned all of this?" she asked wonderingly. "The investigation, the evidence, even the timing of your arrival?"
"Down to the last detail," Devon confirmed with a slight smile. "Though I confess the plan would have failed utterly had Reverend Thornfield not agreed to... extend the traditional pause when he called for objections."
"You involved the Reverend in your scheme?" Arabella's voice held a note of amazed laughter despite everything.
"His Grace," the Reverend interjected with obvioussatisfaction, "has been most generous in his donations to our various charitable causes. When he explained the situation and provided evidence of Mr. Whitmore's true character, I felt it my Christian duty to ensure that such a travesty did not proceed under the auspices of holy matrimony."
The revelation that even the church hierarchy had been enlisted in Devon's cause struck Arabella as both shocking and somehow perfectly appropriate. Here was proof of the lengths to which he had been willing to go to secure her freedom.
"So," Devon said quietly, reaching out to take her hands in his own, "the question remains: will you have me, Arabella? Will you consent to be my wife, my duchess, my partner in all things for as long as we both shall live?"
The proposal, delivered before hundreds of witnesses in the most dramatic possible circumstances, should have been overwhelming. Yet as Arabella looked into Devon's eyes and saw the genuine love and devotion that shone there, she felt a peace settle over her that she had not known since that terrible night at Lord Godric's folly.
"Yes," she said simply, her voice carrying clearly through the expectant silence. "Yes, Devon, I will marry you. I will be your wife and your duchess and your partner in all things, for as long as we both shall live."
The declaration sent a wave of excitement through the congregation, whilst Devon's face was transformed by a smile of such radiant joy that it took her breath away. Without regard for propriety or the watching crowd, he pulled her into his arms and claimed her lips in a kiss that spoke of desperate relief andoverwhelming love.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily from the intensity of their embrace, Reverend Thornfield cleared his throat with obvious amusement.
"Well then," he said with ecclesiastical authority, "if the bride and groom are quite ready, perhaps we might proceed with a ceremony that will actually result in a marriage this time?"
The congregation erupted in laughter at this observation, the tension of the morning finally breaking into genuine celebration. As Devon and Arabella turned to face the altar together, Arabella caught sight of Livia in the crowd, her face glowing with triumphant satisfaction.
"You knew," she mouthed to her soon-to-be sister-in-law, finally understanding the source of Livia's mysterious confidence.
Livia's answering smile was radiant with joy as she nodded, clearly delighted that her faith in her brother's love had been so spectacularly vindicated.
For the first time in months, the future stretched before her bright with infinite possibility.
Chapter 18
"Dearly beloved, 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..."
Reverend Thornfield's voice rang out once more through St. George's Church, but this time the familiar words carried an entirely different weight. The chaos following Whitmore's dramatic arrest had settled into an expectant hush, as though the very walls of the ancient church recognized that they were about to witness something far more significant than a mere society wedding.
Arabella stood at the altar beside Devon, her hand clasped firmly in his, marveling at how completely her world had transformed in the space of mere minutes. The ivory silk gown that had felt like a shroud when intended for Whitmore now seemed to shimmer with possibility, whilst the man beside her radiated a joy so profound that it seemed to illuminate the entire church.
"It is an honourable estate," the Reverend continued with obvious satisfaction, his eyes twinkling with the sort of benevolent mischief that spoke to his complicity in Devon's elaborate scheme, "instituted of God in the time of man's innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church..."
The congregation, still reeling from the morning's dramatic revelations, watched with fascination as London's mostnotorious rake prepared to bind himself in matrimony to the woman whose scandalous association with his household had provided months of delicious gossip. Yet there was something in the way Devon looked at his bride, something in the tender reverence with which he held her hand, that transformed their union from mere spectacle into something approaching the sacred.
