of humble means, it is true, but I do not deserve this high-handed assault upon my character. Again I ask that you leave me in peace.”
The man’s chuckle was cold and merciless. “I cannot say that I am displeased at your refusal. It will save me five hundred pounds. But if you will not take the carrot, then you shall have the stick. I hope you are amenable to spending a great deal of time in your pious mediations, for the second you set a foot outside of this church you will be apprehended by the law.”
“The law?” It was as though she had walked into some strange nightmare. “I have done nothing wrong.” It was not precisely true, but she had, in any case, not done anything illegal. Mostly.
“Oh indeed? I could overlook your being one of the most profligate and manipulative trollops ever to pass herself off in the ton. Making a ridiculous nuisance of yourself is one thing, but trying to hold up my friend is quite another. Do not attempt to dissemble for me, you shameless tart. I know all about your highway robbery plot.”
Katherine’s jaw dropped open. Was this some imp sent from hell to torment her on her wedding day? Otherwise, how could he possibly know about the highway robbery, when she had never actually committed the act? She shuddered and shrank away from him. God was punishing her.
Chapter 18 Lords A-leaping to Conclusions
Foxleigh’s stomach soured as it ruminated on dark premonitions. He had quitted Katherine’s chambers with the information that she had already been conveyed to the church. His carriage seemed to crawl along the street. He wished the driver would make the horses go faster.
Perhaps he was panicking for nothing. Marie might have realized her game was up and left the area. If she knew what was good for her, she would already be en route for the continent.
Nonetheless, he bolted out of the vehicle almost before it had come to a halt in front of the church, summoning the two stout men he had brought with him—not the liveliest looking fellows, but he had been in too much of a hurry for niceness. “Make haste and follow me!”
As he approached the front steps, his skin prickled. Something was wrong. Why were there so many men loitering about the area. Tough looking men, too. He slowed to examine them. Several of them seemed to look him over from the corners of their eyes, but no one openly acknowledged him.
Foxleigh hurtled up the stairs and into the cool gloom of the anteroom. Pausing a moment to let his eyes adjust, he had the strange sensation that there was someone watching him, but though he looked about, all was shadow. He passed a hand over his face. “Calm yourself, old boy.”
He made his way into the sanctuary, unable to appreciate the dazzling beauty of hundreds of candles or the other decorations laid out for the ceremony, rather hurrying toward the front where Katherine stood, facing a tall man with his back turned. Thank God she was here.
But the look on her face was ghastly. Who was this man, some henchman of Marie’s? Fists clenched, he ran the remaining steps down the aisle, past the snoozing form of Mrs. Broden.
As he neared them, he recognized the riotous clash of colours in the man’s attire. “Rutherford?”
He let out a sigh of relief as the man turned around and his identity was confirmed. It was indeed the Duke of Bartholmer, Rutherford to his friends. Foxleigh slapped him on the shoulder with genuine thankfulness for the meeting. “Good to see you, old friend! I am so glad you received the invitation in time!”
He darted to Katherine’s side before Rutherford could reply. She was so white. Wedding nerves? It was only then that he saw the stormy look on his friend’s features. He looked from his bride to his comrade in confusion, the one looking deadly serious, the other looking as though she had seen a ghost. “What is going on here? My darling, are you quite well?”
“I know you will not like what I have to say.” Rutherford locked eyes with Foxleigh in stern determination. “You will think me officious, but you will thank me for it later, believe me. I have received word from your man of business about a plot against you, so I could not rest until I saw you safe. The attack on your carriage that injured you was no simple happenstance. It was