Page 32 of This Laird of Mine

The scent of flowers, incense, and fresh beeswax drifted to him, enfolding him in their fragrance. As Jules made his way forward, a ray of late afternoon sunlight struck the stained glass windows, bathing the cathedral in a rainbow of colors.

Jules found himself relaxing as a sense of wonder warmed him in places he had not realized were cold. The radiance from the multicolored light filled him, lifted him up, and for the first time in a very long while he felt like his own life was not the enemy. He had come here looking for answers. He no longer feared the answers he would find. If Claire truly was his wife, then they would move forward with that knowledge.

And if she were not . . . Jules’s steps faltered as he realized he hoped for the former outcome. The woman intrigued him as no other had. She was captivating, puzzling, a mystery that needed solving. Did he need marriage to solve that puzzle? Perhaps not, but at that moment it did not seem like the curse it had when she’d first arrived at Kildare Manor.

“Evening,” the reverend, a man in his late sixties with white hair and keen gray eyes, greeted Jules.

Jules bowed, then stepped forward. “Pastor, I need your help.”

The man smiled. “That is why I am here. How can I be of service?”

“I need to know the specifics of a certain wedding ceremony that supposedly took place here a few weeks back.”

“The office has the records of ceremonies that have taken place here.” The reverend gazed at him with curiosity. “Whose ceremony do you need information about?”

“Mine.”

The older man’s eyes widened. “Come.” He motioned toward the pew at the front of the aisle. “Sit and tell me more.” When they were seated he asked, “You do not recall your own marriage?”

“It was a proxy marriage.”

“Ahh,” the older man said, knowingly. “When did the marriage take place?”

“I am not sure precisely, but sometime earlier this month. In the last two weeks.” Jules could feel the reverend’s gaze on him, studying him. For a moment Jules tensed. What did he see? Could he see what his father must have always seen when he looked at Jules? Did he see the emptiness inside him? The lack of any goodness?

The reverend’s gaze softened. “Your purpose here?” His voice was understanding, inviting.

Jules responded to that invitation. “To discover if the marriage truly took place.”

The reverend stared at him with eyes so keen Jules had to look away. Could the man see more than Jules wished to reveal?

Jules sat taller in his chair. “I need to know the truth.” He returned his gaze to the reverend a moment later.

The man nodded, his eyes shifting to somewhere behind Jules. “Let us go to the office and see what is recorded in the register. Shall we?”

Jules stood and followed the reverend out a door along the back wall of the cathedral that led down a long hallway.

As they walked the older man asked, “If you give me the names and a description of the bride and your proxy, I might be able to find the information you seek in the register sooner.”

“The bride is Claire Elliot. She is in her early twenties, bright red hair, tall for a woman, intelligent.” Jules startled at the last word. It wasn’t really a descriptor, and yet it was. Claire was intelligent, and challenging, and frustrating all at the same time.

A smile lifted the reverend’s lips. “You need say no more. I remember her well. She was nervous about the marriage.”

The man remembered her. The marriage was real. He and Claire were married.

“She was nervous? Why?” Jules hadn’t expected that.

The minister arched a graying brow. “She was getting married, yet her groom was nowhere in sight. I am sure there was much to be fearful of, particularly if the two of you had never met.”

“We hadn’t.”

The reverend nodded. “You can see why she might have been a little afraid?”

Jules was spared from answering as they entered the reverend’s office. The man who held all the answers moved to a cabinet along the back wall, and withdrawing a key from the folds of his robes, he opened the lock, then removed a heavy book and set it on the crude desk nearby. He flipped the weathered pages open to the back of the book and scanned the entries, running his finger down the rows of neatly printed names until his finger stopped near the bottom of the page.

Jules’s muscles clenched as he waited in the silence for the words. “And Grayson? What did he look like?”

Without looking up, the minister said, “I am acquainted with Grayson. I can attest that it was he who stood next to your bride.”