Wedding Wagers(40)

But no such thing happened, and the priest continued, looking at Lord  Stratford. "Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live  together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt  thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in  health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye  both shall live?"

Juliet heard Lord Stratford's voice in her head before he spoke his vow.  It would be the voice she'd listen to for the rest of her life.

But then, before Lord Stratford could reply, the priest said, "What is happening?"

Juliet snapped her head up to look at the priest, not sure what he was  asking. Had he been speaking to her? But the man wasn't looking at her  or Lord Stratford. The priest's gaze was focused on the church  doors-doors that were rattling as if someone was trying to open them.

"Unlock the doors," the priest said in the shocked silence of the congregation. "Who locked them?"

Murmurs arose, and finally a young boy sprang to the doors and lifted the latch that barred whoever was the late comer.

Several men strode inside, dressed in gentlemen's clothing. Juliet  didn't recognize any of them and assumed they were friends of Lord  Stratford. But when she saw that they carried pistols out in the open,  she gasped along with the congregation. Had John's philandering finally  caught up with him? Yet, when Juliet looked over at her brother, he  appeared as shocked as everyone else.

"Southill, what is going on?" Lord Stratford asked, but her brother merely shook his head, the color of his face nearly white.

Juliet looked again toward the men who circled the congregation as if  they were a small army. The women and children shied away from the  pistols, and the men appeared ready to bolt out the open doors. "Who are  you men?" Lord Stratford called out. "And what are you doing at my  wedding?"         

     



 

"They're my insurance policy that everything runs smoothly," another man's voice answered.

At the same moment Juliet realized she did recognize at least one of the  men-Lord Hudson-she saw Victor stride through the now open church  doors.

Victor was here. Here. In the church. At her wedding.

Juliet couldn't breathe. It seemed that Victor's answer had cast a  muteness over the rest of the congregation, because no one spoke as he  strode up the aisle. Juliet convinced herself that she was dreaming, yet  the man walking toward her was real and solid, with a determination in  his eyes that could only belong to Lord Victor Roland.

He no longer had his cane, and the set of his shoulders and steadiness  of his stride told her that he was fully recovered from his injury.  After all, it had been nine weeks. The only sound in the church was the  sound of his footsteps, solid and sure as he walked in boots that looked  like he'd encountered a good deal of mud along the way. His boots were  black, as were his jacket, vest, and breeches-befitting his state of  mourning for his father. Victor neared where Juliet stood with the  priest and Lord Stratford, stopping only a couple of feet away. He stood  close enough that she could see the perspiration on his forehead and  how his hair was windblown from not wearing a hat.

His brown eyes connected with hers as he pulled off his riding gloves. "Tell me, Lady Juliet, have I arrived too late?"

"What is the reason for this rude interruption?" Lord Stratford blustered.

Victor ignored Lord Stratford and scanned Juliet from head to foot.

She was wearing a gown that had been made over from something of her  mother's, yes, but she hadn't thought of the full impact that wearing it  might have if Victor should see it. Beneath his assessing gaze, her  skin flushed warm.

"We have not spoken our vows," Juliet said, surprised she could speak at all.

"Hear, hear," Lord Stratford said, his face growing as red as Juliet's  but for a different reason. "You had better not be about to oppose this  wedding."

Neither Juliet nor Victor replied to Stratford.

"I am sorry to hear about your father," Juliet said.

"I'm not sorry his misery was put to an end," Victor replied in that frank way of his.

Those in the congregation who sat close enough to hear the quiet conversation gasped at Victor's words.

"Now, listen here, Locken," John said, crossing to the couple.

Juliet noticed that he walked with trepidation, keeping an eye on the other men Victor brought with him.

"Leave my sister in peace," John said. "She's made her decision, and you can keep your dukedom."

Victor turned his gaze upon John. "Who says I can't have both?"

John scoffed. "We all know you reached your father too late." He  narrowed his eyes. "The duke was already dead. And my sister will be no  mistress of yours."

"My father was dead when I arrived in Locken," Victor said with a nod.  "And two weeks later my cousin arrived, ready to take over the estate. I  handed him the master's keys and left for London."

"You should have stayed in London, then," John growled. "Southill Estate is no longer your concern."

Victor's mouth lifted into a half smile, and she had to do something  soon before these two men brawled in the middle of the church. Victor  had come for her, but leaving with him would throw her brother into  further scandal. Victor would despise her in the years to come when he  realized all he'd given up for her. And as much as she despised many of  John's choices and actions, she'd determined to do what was necessary to  save Southill Estate.

"Lord Locken," she said in a quiet voice, using his formal title. She  stepped forward so she stood between her brother and Victor. "Please  forgive me. My brother is right, I have made my choice."

Victor stared at her, and she couldn't quite read his expression. All  she knew was that she felt an awful twisting in her stomach. He'd given  up Locken for her, but she was unwilling to give up Southill Estate for  him. And then it was like her words had finally processed in his mind.  His eyes darkened, and a faint flush stole over his cheeks. He opened  his mouth, then shut it, his jaw clenched.

Victor nodded to John, then to Lord Stratford, and he said, "I beg your pardon."

With that, Victor turned and slapped his gloves against his thigh, then started the walk back down the church's aisle.

All eyes watched him leave, and just before he reached the church doors,  he said, "Men. Let's go." He turned a final time and eyed Juliet from  the distance. "I brought the two bays. They are yours now. Won fairly."         

     



 

He disappeared through the doorway before she could collect her senses.

And when the enormity of what had just happened dawned on her, Juliet  wanted to call out after him, to tell him that her heart would always be  his, to beg him to return, and tell him that she didn't mind living in  the smallest of cottages.

"Well, then," John said, rubbing his hands together. "With that bit of excitement over, we can now proceed."

Juliet swallowed the painful lump in her throat and ignored the tears  streaking her cheeks. She turned to Lord Stratford. The man grinned, his  eyes focused on her, as if he'd just been awarded a profitable gold  mine. Juliet wanted to sink into the earth and never see either of these  men again.

"Proceed with the marriage vows." John's blue gaze pierced Juliet as if  he'd have no qualms about driving a dagger straight into her heart.

The priest repeated the words. "I require and charge you both, as ye  will answer at the dreadful day of judgement, when the secrets of all  hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment,  why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, ye do now  confess it."

Juliet saw the rest of her life in a single image. Her, sitting alone as  an old woman, in the dreary drawing room in the Stratford mansion, her  soul wracked with pain because she'd turned down a life of love and  happiness. For what? A crumbling manor and a selfish brother?

"I confess," she whispered. "I must confess that I cannot marry Lord Stratford," she said louder.

John was by her side in an instant, his fingers grasping her arm. "Juliet," he said through clenched teeth.

She blinked back the tears that had started again and focused on Lord  Stratford. "I am truly sorry to have caused you pain and embarrassment,  Lord Stratford. But I cannot marry you, ever." She would run after  Victor and beg for his forgiveness, and if he refused to give it . . .  she'd find her own way as a governess.

"Damn you, woman," her brother started, but she cut him off.

"Unhand me now, John," she said in a shaking voice. "You will not  dictate my future any longer. You gave up that responsibility when you  gambled away your inheritance."

Gasps echoed throughout the church, although Juliet believed that most everyone knew of their ruin.

John's mouth fell open as if she'd slapped him, and it gave her the  leverage to wrench away from his grasp. Before he could recover his  senses, she picked up her skirts and ran down the aisle. The church  doors were still wide open, and she barreled through them. She didn't  stop running until she saw that Victor had, indeed, delivered the two  bays. Both were saddled, and she made quick work of mounting one, then  grabbing the reins of the second. Her dress would likely never recover  after the abuse it suffered as she got herself situated and started to  ride away from the church.