Page 85 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
She’d never much relied onfeelings. That was more Cecilia’s realm. Georgiana was enamored of facts, not fancies, but there was a strange exhilaration in her belly, a certainty that they’d find something in thishumble place.
It seemed incredible it could be as simple as that. After all the mystery surrounding Kenilworth’s sins and his efforts to keep his secret, she could hardly believe a mere scrap of paper might be the means of exposing him, but neither would she have predicted everything that had happened over theselast few days.
A dastardly duke, a kidnapped duchess, faro, masque balls, scandalous gossip and a notorious rake with the handsomest dark eyes she’d ever seen—
But she wouldn’t think about that now. It would only distract her. Now was the time for action, not mooning overa rakish earl.
“Shall we?” Benedict took her arm and led her to the entranceof the church.
Georgiana grasped the heavy iron latch and turned it. A draft of cool air wafted over them as the door opened with a gentle creak of its hinges. It was dim inside, but she could see it was as humble a place as it appeared from the outside, with plain whitewashed walls, the arched windows lined in the same stone, and the simple altar illuminated by a leaded glass window behind it, dust motes lingering in the pale light that shone through the diamond-shaped panes.
“It’s a simple little place. Not quite what you’d imagine for a man like Kenilworth.” There was a dark thread of bitterness in Benedict’s voice. “He always insists on everything being as magnificent as possible, as befitsa grand duke.”
There was nothing grand about Lee Old Church—no stately altar here, and no stained glass. It was the last place in the world one would expect a duke to be married, but then Kenilworth hadn’t been a duke then, nor had he had any expectation of becoming one.
So he’d found his heiress, seduced and then married her, gained control of her fortune, and then once he became a duke he left her behind, as if she were no more significant than a bit of mud on his boots.
For such treachery as that, one church did as well as another.
“And a grand wife who befits a grand duke as well. Not that I blame Jane, but Clara Beauchamp—God in heaven, Benedict. What do you suppose happened to her that night?” There was a reason Kenilworth had been so certain Clara would never return to expose his perfidy.
It made Georgiana shudder tothink about it.
The odds were against Clara still being alive, despite Jane’s certainty that she’d seen her outside Lady Tilbury’s London townhouse. It seemed impossible a man as cold and calculating as the duke would have been as careless as to leave a witness behind.
Another shudder raced down Georgiana’s spine. As awful as the duke was, surely, he wouldn’t have…he couldn’t have been so wicked as to—
“I don’t know, but once we have Jane and Freddy settled, I intend to find out.” Benedict’s jaw tightened. “Kenilworth won’t get away with what he’s done, Georgiana.I promise it.”
“Good afternoon,” a voice called, and Georgiana turned to find a diminutive man dressed in the somber black suit and white cravat of a vicar stroll through a doorway at the back of the church. “I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting. I didn’t realize anyone was here. I’m Martin Henshawe, the vicar. May I help you?”
“Good afternoon, Vicar Henshawe. You may be able to help us, yes. This young lady and I have come to inquire about a marriage—”
“Ah, yes. I thought it must be that. Such a lovely young couple.” Vicar Henshawe beamed at them. “You need only give me your names. Once I’ve called the banns over three successive Sundays—”
“Banns?” Benedict cleared his throat. “No, that’s not…we’re not here aboutcalling banns.”
“A special license, is it? We don’t get many of those here, but of course I’m pleased to assist you. I just need to see the—”
“Er, no, Vicar Henshawe. We, ah…this young lady and I aren’t betrothed. We’re acquaintances only, or…well, more friends, really, but not…we’re not here about our own marriage, but about someone else’s.”
Benedict’s cheeks turned pink as he fumbled through this explanation.
A rake, blushing? Georgiana had never seen such a thing before, and she couldn’t help but find it…well, an oddity, really. Peculiar, but nothing more. It wasn’t fetching, or charming, or singularly adorable.
The vicar blinked at them. “Indeed? I beg your pardon. The two of you look rather…that is, I assumed you were…well, no matter. You’ve come to ask about another marriage, you say?”
“Yes, Vicar Henshawe.” Georgiana gave him her most gracious smile. “A dear friend of mine, a lady by the name of Clara Beauchamp, may have been married here, but it would have been some time ago. Seven years or more. Perhaps her name sounds familiar to you?”
Vicar Henshawe shook his head. “No, I’m afraid it wouldn’t. I came to this parish just two years ago, after the previous vicar, Vicar Smithfield, passed away. Of course, I know the names of the members of the parish, but I don’t recognize the name Clara Beauchamp.”
Georgiana glanced at Benedict, and saw her own disappointment reflected in his face. If Clara Beauchamp and the duke’s name weren’t in this register, there’d be no one to verify their marriage had taken place with the previous vicar dead.
But if theyhadmarried here, their names would be in the register. Theyhadto be. “Perhaps we might have a look at the register, Vicar Henshawe? It’s a matter of some urgency, you see.” Georgiana lowered her voice. “A dispute about the legality of the marriage, I’m afraid, and some disagreement over an inheritance. A rather unpleasant business, you understand.”
“Oh, dear. Yes, I imagine so.” Vicar Henshawe looked mildly scandalized. “I’ll just fetch the register for you so you might have apeek, shall I?”
“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” Georgiana waited until the vicar shuffled off in the direction he’d come before turning to Benedict. To her surprise, she found him smirkingat her. “What?”
