The Unforgettable Hero(32)

“St. George’s. At ten o’clock.” Mary dabbed at her eyes, eyes that were suddenly filled with hope.

Adam fumbled in his pocket for his watch and glared at the thing.

“What time is it?” Mary sniffed.

“Nearly ten.” He turned back and sprinted down the steps.

“Are you going to stop the wedding, Mr. Hunt?” Mary called after him, her voice bright.

“If I can!” he called back.

Mary picked up her skirts. “Wait for me!”



Cecelia bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood. She stood at the altar with Cousin Percy at her side, the vicar having just begun their wedding ceremony. This wasn’t going to be easy, but she refused to either cry or make a scene. Many people had much worse lots in life. She was no different. She would have to just do her best and take solace in the fact that she would ensure that her sister made a proper come-out one day and married for love, just like Lady Magnolia.

She pressed her lips together. Lady Magnolia and the duke. She would never know what it was like to actually be a beloved bride marrying a beloved husband, but thanks to Adam Hunt, she’d at least had a taste of what it was like to be truly desired. Truly wanted. The worst part was that try as she might to get the entire debacle out of her mind, she couldn’t. She couldn’t forget the way he’d made her feel, if only for a few short days. He’d made her feel like a lady. He’d made her feel passion. He’d made her feel … love? Dare she think it? She had fallen in love with Adam, despite having just met him. But she didn’t blame him for being angry with her for lying to him. She hadn’t told him she was engaged and she hadn’t told him she loved him. What else was he left to think? It was better this way. She could never explain to him why she’d done what she’d done. How did you tell someone you’d wanted to pretend you were a heroine in a novel for just one more night? It was silly. It was stupid. It was unforgivable. But for one night, just that one night, she had been Lady Magnolia and he’d been her duke. He’d told her once he was no hero, but he’d been wrong. He was a hero. He was her hero. And she would never forget him.

“Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife?” the vicar droned. Cecelia kept her chin up and faced forward. She’d promised herself not to so much as glance over at Cousin Percy; the saliva on his bottom lip always made her feel ill.

A large crack echoed through the church as the doors at the back of the building were slammed open. Cecelia spun around, but the sun obscured her view. She raised the measly clump of half-dead flowers that Aunt Selene had pressed into her hand a moment before the ceremony began in front of her eyes to block the sun. Was that … Mary? Her sister had stayed home because of her cough and because Uncle Herbert was tired of hearing her cry all morning.

“Cecelia!” Mary cried, confirming the girl’s identity. But who was with her?

Cece’s gaze darted to the other, much taller figure racing down the center aisle. It was … Adam Hunt? No. It couldn’t be. Her eyes were playing a trick on her. Her imagination was running amok.

“Cecelia,” he called, and Cecelia’s flowers dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers.

“Stop the wedding!” Mary called. “Mr. Hunt has something he wants to say to you.”

Cecelia didn’t need to hear any more. She picked up her skirts and nearly ran down the few steps from the altar, then down the aisle. Adam met her in the middle and grabbed her and spun her into his arms. He kissed her fiercely.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered, breathlessly. “I hope it’s what I think you’re doing here.”

Mary beamed at her side.

“What is the meaning of this?” Uncle Herbert’s voice thundered through the church. He pushed himself to his feet from his spot in the first row. The vicar glanced around, looking both embarrassed and confused. Percy dabbed at his bulbous lower lip but remained silent, and Aunt Selene stood up from her own spot in the front row and turned to glare menacingly at Cece.

Adam ignored all of them. He set Cecelia down and took both her hands. “I’m here to ask you if you’ll allow me to publish your novel,” he explained. “I came to an agreement with Mr. Cornwall. I’m going to be his partner and yours is the first story I intend to publish.”

Cece’s face fell slightly but she nodded. “Yes, of course. Well, we’ll have to agree to the terms, but yes, yes, I’d love for you to publish my novel, Adam.”

Mary’s smile widened. She elbowed Adam. “And…?” she prodded. “The much better part, I might add.”