Page 92 of Midnight with the Marquess (The St. Clairs 2)

Then a voice called out, “Lady Rachel! Wait.”

She turned, annoyed, ready to chastise whoever was ruining such a lovely moment for her.

From the shadows emerged an older man who looked somewhat familiar but she couldn’t place him.

As he came toward her, he said, “I must stop you before you make the biggest mistake of your life.”

It was the Duke of Winstead.

*

Evan’s heart filledwith love as he caught sight of Rachel standing in the doorway, ready to come to him. She was lovelier than he could have imagined. The fact that she was here to pledge her life and love to him was overwhelming. The music began.

Rachel didn’t move toward him.

Instead, she turned away from the door. Her back now faced it. Queasiness enveloped him.

Something was wrong.

Evan left the altar and strode down the aisle. The organ music died. The only sound in the church was the click of his boot heels against the stone as he moved toward his bride. He reached her and saw what had distracted her.

His father.

It had been many years since he’d seen Winstead. Time hadn’t been kind to the duke. His brown hair was now completely gray. His nights of carousing had etched deep lines into his face. He seemed a shadow of the man who’d once terrified Evan.

“In all likelihood, he’s not even my son,” Winstead said. “You don’t want to tie yourself to a man like that. Everton would be appalled.”

He winced at the words. Even now, all these years later, his father hated him enough to come and ruin Evan’s wedding day. He hadn’t told Rachel that his mother might have been unfaithful in her marriage. He should have. He’d already told her about his drinking and how he would have to be vigilant the rest of his life. But it had never occurred to him that he should mention Winstead’s suspicions.

Or the fact that his father had murdered his own wife.

Evan reached out a hand to touch Rachel. Get her attention. See if this could be resolved. Before he could, she attacked as fiercely as any guard dog on earth, her voice ringing in the narthex.

“You think I’m marrying Evan because he’s a marquess? And that he’ll become a duke someday? I don’t care one whit for titles or wealth. I’m wedding the man I love, Winstead. If Evan cobbled shoes or swept chimneys to earn a living, I would still marry him. He is my soulmate. My life. My eternal love. You’re a bloody fool if you think what you’ve told me would make an ounce of difference in my feelings for him.”

Rachel glared at the old man. “Get out of this church. You were not invited to our celebration for a reason. No one wants you here, especially Evan and me. You turned your back on him long ago and I’m doing the same to you now.”

With that, Rachel whirled around—and saw him.

A radiant smile lit her face. “Evan!” she cried.

He captured her hands as she balanced her bouquet and kissed them fervently. “I love you, Rachel St. Clair. Perhaps more now than ever before.”

She beamed at him. “Would you care to escort me to our wedding?”

He offered her his arm. “I’d be delighted to, my love.”

They began down the aisle. A few steps into their walk, the organist had sense enough to begin playing again.

“I wonder how much of the conversation thetonoverheard?” she asked.

“Probably all of it,” he replied. “What they didn’t hear, they’ll make up.”

Rachel giggled. “We seemed to stir up gossip wherever we go.”

Evan smiled at her. “We will definitely be legends in our own time. Not many can lay claim to that.”

They reached the altar, where Rachel immediately handed her bouquet to Leah and then held on to him tightly. Evan nodded at the flustered clergyman, who began the ceremony, though his voice shook.

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