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“You certainly took your time,” Lord Oakwell said as she reached his side.

“I don’t believe I’m late,” she said quietly as she joined him at the altar.

He sneered at her. “I didn’t say that you were late. I said I had been waiting. Do you think that your timetable is the only one that matters?”

I can hardly be expected to be here when you want me if it isn’t the time we’ve agreed on, she thought furiously. But there was no point in arguing, and besides, she wanted him happy. “You’re right,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.” Would this whole marriage be based on offering apologies when she felt she had done nothing wrong? Well, if it was, there were worse things that could happen to a person.

The story of Lord Oakwell’s last bar brawl came back to her. It was Dorothy who’d told her about it, in tones of delighted gossip, for back then it had been something that couldn’t touch either one of them. She had heard from her husband, who had been at the pub in question on the night it had happened. Apparently Lord Oakwell had simply had too many drinks and had begun shouting about how he would fight any man there, no matter how strong that man might be. When there had been no takers— “He’s something of a joke, really,” Dorothy had giggled—Lord Oakwell had simply started throwing punches at anyone who would stand still long enough to receive them.

This was the man who was going to be her husband. And there seemed to be nothing she could do about it.

The wedding ceremony began. As the priest spoke, Amanda began to feel faint. This had been a terrible idea. She shouldn’t have done it. She should have resisted harder, waited for a better solution to present itself, and she hadn’t managed to do that. Now there was no way out. The walls seemed to close in around her, and she opened and closed her eyes several times very quickly, as if that would make the world grow steadier. It had no effect.

She was tempted to reach out and grab Lord Oakwell’s arm. If this had been her wedding with George, she would have done just that, as a means of steadying herself. But who knew what Lord Oakwell would do if she laid a hand on him? It was possible that he would like it, but it was also possible that he would lash out.

Don’t take chances. That’s my life now. Keep things as smooth as possible.

Then the priest was addressing the congregation, and Amanda found her focus returning, for the ceremony was almost over.

“If anyone here can state a reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

Peace. Something I might never know again after today.

There was a long silence.

The priest opened his mouth to speak the words that would doom Amanda.

And then a deep, rough voice cut through the air, shocking her so badly that she actually did stumble a little before whirling around to see if she could lay eyes on the speaker.

“I object.”

CHAPTER 3

She spotted him almost at once.

He was standing in the doorway, and he filled nearly all the space, his broad shoulders extending from one side to the other and his head nearly scraping the top of the frame. But his size wasn’t what drew her attention. It was the scars that marred his face, cutting through his eyebrow on one side and across his cheek on the other.

He’d been very handsome once. She could see that. Dark hair, dark eyes, a square jaw and a strong chin. But how could a person focus on anything now other than those scars? She wondered how he had gotten them.

He took a few steps up the aisle toward them. “I object to this marriage,” he said again. “She cannot marry this man.”

Amanda’s father was on his feet now, stepping into the aisle to confront the interloper. “What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded. “Who are you, sir, and what makes you think you have the right to interrupt my daughter’s wedding in this fashion?” He turned around as if searching for someone to help him. “I insist this man be shown from the room at once!”

The stranger held up a hand, but didn’t bother to respond to Amanda’s father. “Lady Amanda, may I have a word with you in private?”

Amanda stared. He had interrupted her wedding to ask her for a private word? How could anyone think such a thing was appropriate? And yet, she found she was curious. She wanted to know what he was going to say.

Her father was less intrigued. “You certainly may not speak to her privately,” he raged. “This is incredible! Who do you think you are?”

“My name is Sampson Turner,” the man granted, his eyes still fixed on Amanda. “Duke of Mortridge. And to answer your previous question, Lord Stapleton, I have the right to interrupt these proceedings because I’ve made a promise to someone. And I intend to keep it.”

The priest looked from Amanda to Lord Oakwell. “What shall I do?” he asked them. “Do you wish to proceed?”

“No,” Amanda said quickly. She couldn’t help thinking that this might be her last chance at salvation. Whoever this man was, he felt that she shouldn’t get married today. Amanda also felt that way. So, in the moment, the two of them were aligned. “I should hear what this gentleman has to say.”

“Excuse me?” Lord Oakwell snarled. “There’s nothing he could have to say that my wife might need to hear. Finish the ceremony,” he said, turning back to the priest.

The priest shook his head, drawing himself up. “I won’t marry her against her will,” he said.