Page 19 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

Matilda settled back in her chair. “I still think Augusta looks very calm for a woman whose prospects have been declared entirely destroyed.”

But Augusta said nothing in response, and that silenced the room more effectively than Charity’s warning had done. Matilda’s expression softened, and Charity looked at Augusta with immediate concern.

For several days, carriages had slowed outside Blackstone Manor as curious members of society attempted to discover whether she could be glimpsed through the glass. Calling cards had arrived from friends offering support, strangers offering advice, and several women Augusta barely knew who plainly hoped to hear every detail.

It was not the damage to her own reputation that troubled her most. But rather the fact that Charity and Duncan had been drawn into the scandal. Duncan’s name appeared beside hers in every report, usually accompanied by questions about whether he had encouraged the accusation or intended to defend her through legal action.

Charity had been called reckless for supporting her sister. Even Matilda had been mentioned once, though thankfully only as an unnamed younger relation.

Augusta folded her hands upon the table. ”I should have considered what this would do to both of you.”

“You considered what you believed would happen to Phillipa if you remained silent,” Charity’s tone gentled.

“I might have spoken to Duncan instead of standing in front of the entire church.”

“I agree, but if anything, you stopped a wedding that Phillipa did not want,” Charity reminded her.

“I also accused an innocent man of murder.”

That morning’s conversation with the constable remained painfully clear. She had told him everything she remembered, and he had responded with questions of his own.

Had she seen the man’s face?

No.

Had she watched him harm the woman?

No.

Could she say with certainty that the body discovered at Merrigold was the same one she had seen?

No.

Then he had explained that the Duke of Ravenhill had been observed throughout the engagement party. He had spent the greater part of the evening in the card room with several gentlemen whose accounts agreed. Servants had brought wine, removed empty glasses and attended the fire. No one had seen him leave for the gardens. The alibi was nearly impossible to dispute.

“The constable believed me at first,” Augusta said. “Or at least he believed that I saw something. But he made it clear that Ravenhill could not have been in the garden at the time.”

Charity set down her cup. “Did he say the duke was seen without interruption?”

“He said several gentlemen recalled him at the card table throughout the evening. One of the servants remembered spilling wine near his chair not long before I came inside.”

“Could all of them be lying?” Matilda frowned.

“Five gentlemen and three servants would require a reason to tell the same lie.”

“Perhaps dukes are very persuasive.”

Charity gave Matilda a warning look.

“The constable also explained that the cane may have been copied. Ravenhill’s family crest is a raven. There may be household servants, relatives, or others connected to the estate who use the same symbol.”

Charity reached for Augusta’s hand. “The constables now know what you saw. That may still help them find the person responsible.”

“I hope so,” Augusta replied. “But it does not repair what I did to the duke, I suppose.”

A knock sounded at the door before Charity could answer. The butler entered and bowed.

“Your Grace,” he said to Charity, “the Duke of Ravenhill has arrived. He requests an audience with His Grace and Lady Augusta.”