Chapter 27

CHAPTER27

“Iwouldnae worry,” Duncan said out of the corner of his mouth. “Ye ken what lasses are like. She’ll be primpin’ and preenin’, makin’ sure she looks her best for ye.”

But Silas was beginning to worry. He had arrived an hour early to the church of St. Francis, yet Emma was now almost an hour late. Of course, he knew that it was a woman’s duty to keep her future husband waiting, but this was beyond building anticipation.

The intimate congregation whispered behind him, grating upon his ears.

“She is exceedingly late,” someone said. “It does not bode well, I fear.”

“She would not do this a third time, would she?” someone else muttered. It sounded like Adam.

“Of course not,” Edwin replied, his tone dubious. “There will be a simple explanation; I am sure.”

“Did she seem like she was nervous?” That was Jasper, whispering across to his wife, Marina.

Silas listened more closely, for if anyone could offer insight, it was Marina. She knew Emma better than the other two duchesses, though he knew all the women had been with her that morning.

“Not at all,” Marina murmured. “Indeed, she was leaving just as we were. She said she was going to leave soon, at least. Her father was with her.”

Silas twisted his head slightly, observing the rest of the congregation. He found Emma’s mother, her sister Lydia, and Nora standing at the very rear of the church, whispering to one another, casting uneasy looks toward the nearby door. Every time it did not open, no sound of an approaching carriage to be heard, they paled further, their whispers beginning with renewed vigor.

“Excuse me,” he said to Duncan, before heading straight for the women who knew Emma best of all.

Lydia jumped in immediately. “She will be here, Your Grace. She told us she would be. I know you will not be soothed by me saying ‘this is not like her’, but it truly is not, in this instance.”

“I am inclined to agree,” Nora confirmed. “If my friend had any intention of running, she would have called upon me. Why, I even offered her my carriage in jest. She has not done what you think she has, Your Grace. I would stake my life upon it.”

It was Emma’s mother, Olivia, who drew Silas’s gaze. She seemed to feel no need to leap in with excuses and comforting words. Instead, she refused to look him in the eyes, her head bowed, her shoulders sagged in a fashion he recognized all too well from his own mother: the slump of disappointment felt toward a wayward child.

“You believe it, do you not?” he said quietly, addressing only Olivia.

At his back, the anxious whispers and snippets of gossip were rising like a wind, whipping up into a storm. The sound rattled up his spine and was almost as infuriating as the pitying looks that the gentlemen of the congregation were trying their best to conceal. No one could understand the wounding of a man’s pride quite as well as other men.

“It does not seem possible,” Olivia breathed, hands trembling, “but nor can I tell you, with all certainty, that she is coming. I thought I could, but…”

“Mama!” Lydia snapped, her face a picture of outrage. “How can you say that? You saw her this morning! It is not possible that she is not here—you were right in that regard. Please, Mama, have faith in her.”

Olivia bowed her head lower, her entire body shaking.

Annoyed and somewhat lost, Silas abandoned the three women and pushed out into the gray morning. Yesterday had been bright and balmy—the perfect summer’s day—but now clouds were rolling in, and a drizzle spit down from the heavens, as if mocking him.

He sucked in deep breaths, his mind spinning. Her absence did not make a jot of sense. She was the one who had suggested the marriage; he had championed that, pleased to have such a forthright and courageous bride.

Was it a trick? The question twisted like a vine through his brain, growing thorns that dragged and bit deep. Was making it a “round trio,” as I once said, her objective all along?

He squeezed his eyes shut, going over the past few weeks he had spent in Emma’s company, searching his memories for an answer. When she had first arrived at his manor, her sole wish was to be allowed back into the presence of her family, to see her sister again. Without him, without this engagement, it would not have been possible.

“Is that it?” he murmured. Was I merely the means to see her sister again?

Even that did not make sense, not entirely. If Emma ran a third time, she would never be permitted to see her family again. More to the point, he had not gotten the impression from Lydia that they had exchanged farewells, or that Emma had alluded to fleeing.

To spare her, maybe? His head was whirling in circles, his temples throbbing.

His memories drifted back to that blissful morning in his study, when they had made a promise of marriage to each other. He thought of the things he had told her about the kidnap, and as he did, Luke’s words struck him hard in the chest: “I encountered one of her former betrotheds and… I am afraid to say that you are rather similar. You were, anyway. I understand that you have changed since you returned, but… does she know that?”

His blood ran cold. I thought she had forgiven me for my past sins, or could overlook them at least—what if I was wrong? What if this is… revenge or punishment for who I used to be?

He almost laughed as the notion began to solidify in his head. Emma might have seemed different to the rest of society’s ladies, but what woman in her right mind would propose marriage to someone with as infamous a reputation as his?

He had been wicked before the kidnap. He had been the terror of mothers everywhere. Indeed, it was the very reason he had responded to the note he had received at his birthday ball—it had not been a surprise to him, that he might have sired a child with one of his fleeting fancies. Truthfully, he had been surprised that it had not happened sooner.

She did it to the Marquess, making him a pariah to women everywhere. Has she done it to me, too? He did not want to believe it, wished to cling onto the love that had been blossoming in his chest, and the many, many evenings they had spent in a bubble of pure passion, but the doubts were choking his thoughts now. The vines of grim understanding were constricting, the thorns of betrayal sinking deeper.

“Silas?” A hand came to rest upon his arm.

He glanced down to find his mother standing at his side. “I should tell everyone to leave.”

“What?” His mother gasped. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Is it not obvious?” His eyes narrowed. “She is not coming.”

His mother curled her hand tighter around his arm. “There will be an explanation for this, my dear boy,” she insisted. “Emma’s father is also not here. He would not have allowed anything scandalous to happen. If we were to search the roads between here and the Dowager House, I am certain we would find them, either beside a broken carriage or making their way here on foot.”

Silas shook his head. “Perhaps, he is in pursuit of her. Either way, I am certain she has fled a third time. I… have reason to believe it.” He glanced back over his shoulder, catching his brother’s eye.

Luke opened out his hands as if to say, “What is happening?”

I was certain of her, but she was never certain of me, Silas wanted to admit, but anger swept in, washing away any of the more complicated emotions that would have been harder to navigate. Anger was always easier.

“She has made her choice,” he said tightly, removing his mother’s hand from his arm. “Now, she must live with it, and every consequence that comes her way. As must I.”

He marched back into the church and cleared his throat, everyone’s attention snapping to him. “Ladies and gentlemen, there is to be no wedding. Please, leave at once. There will be no wedding breakfast, either, so do not feel the need to linger. Indeed, I would prefer it if no one came back to my estate, aside from those who live there.”

A ripple of shock made its way through the ladies of the congregation, while the gentlemen did not look at all surprised. Lydia and Nora, standing the closest, opened their mouths as if to protest, but Silas cut them off.

“Return to your residences, make merry at the local inn—do as you like, for that is precisely what I intend to do,” he said, and turned on his heel, striding out toward the spot where he had hitched his horse.

He would check the roads between the church and the manor first, but only to confirm what he already knew—Emma was gone, and he had been well and truly fooled. One day, he hoped he might applaud her for it.