"Marcus is the only son. He will one day be the Duke of Ashlund."
"My God," she repeated. Then, abruptly looking at the priest, she said, "If I cry off, Marcus couldn't force the wedding?" Would he—could he—actually force her to stay?
"Nay," the priest answered slowly. "He could not force you."
"Father, can you tell me why he hid his identity from me?"
"Hid his identity? I dinna' see, exactly—" He frowned. "You knew nothing of his rank?"
She shook her head.
"But everyone knows. Perhaps he assumed you knew."
"He cannot stop me from changing my mind about the marriage—can he? I left once before and he brought me back."
Father Whyte looked surprised. "He is a powerful man. I hadn't considered such possibilities, but I suppose he could do almost anything." The priest hesitated. "My child…"
Elise's heart pounded. "Good Lord, what?"
"In society's eyes, you and Marcus are married. The wedding vows are a mere formality. You have been through a proper courtship." He didn't acknowledge her unladylike snort. "Everyone assumes—" He stopped. She frowned and he added, "That you already live as husband and wife."
A jolt of embarrassment warmed her cheeks. She'd been a virgin when Robert married her. The possibility of intimacy outside the marriage bed hadn't occurred to her. But then, she hadn't considered the possibility of intimacy at all after Robert.
"Of course," Father Whyte added, "if they are wrong…"
Elise laughed again, this time with bitterness. "You won't find redemption for me there, Father."
"You needn't worry. You are to be wed. As I said, 'tis a formality."
"A formality which carries the weight of the law."
"True."
"And I am free to go?" she insisted.
"Your reputation would be ruined."
"Bah! I don't care a fig for my reputation."
"It would be a terrible scandal for Marcus, as well."
"Would it?" she said with asperity, but guilt surfaced amongst the anger.
A mental picture flashed of the next big headlines in the London Sunday Times, "The Duke Who Married a Murderess." The fact it was a lie wouldn't matter.
"The announcements have already reached the papers," Father Whyte said.
"Announcements?" Elise echoed, then said, "But of course."
"Come," Father Whyte's expression softened, "there has been some mistake. Marcus is a good man. Surely, you will listen to his explanation."
"What explanation?" asked Marcus from the rear of the church.
Elise surged to her feet. "Lord Ashlund. Good of you to join us."
So she had discovered the truth. Marcus had no one to blame but himself for not telling her. He strode to them and halted beside Elise. He gave an acknowledging nod to Father Whyte, then said to her, "Aye, love. Lord Ashlund, Marquess of Ashlund."
"You lied to me."
He recognized the fear behind the curt statement and gently answered, "Nay."
Her lips thinned. "You deny it?"
"If I led you to believe I was of noble class but wasn't, you would have reason to be angry. The fact I am of the noble caste is of no consequence. Have you ever heard anyone here address me by my title?"
Her mouth tightened further. "You kept it from me."
"You are saying I instructed all of Brahan Seer to deceive you? How could I possibly accomplish such a thing? The fact that you learned about this before we signed the marriage certificate proves my point."
"The marriage certificate?" Elise repeated, then, as though to herself, said, "Of course, we would sign a marriage certificate."
"It doesn't matter," he insisted. "Especially here."
She canted her head. "And when we leave Brahan Seer? Isn't that the reason we are doing this because you insisted we cannot leave Brahan Seer without being married?"
"Aye," he replied. "We cannot travel the country and live as we do here. Expectations are different outside Brahan Seer."
"Yes, they are," she retorted. "To the extent you are to be a duke!"
"You aren't being honest," he continued, forcing back frustration. "Admit it. Had you known in the beginning, you wouldn't have agreed to marry me because of my station."
"So you did lie."
"I did not."
"Father," she said, keeping her gaze on Marcus, "isn't the sin of omission the same as a direct lie?"
The priest took a deep breath. "It is."
"Are you saying you won't marry me because I will one day be a duke?" Marcus demanded.
"I am saying, I will not marry a man I cannot trust."
"Bloody hell," he cursed. "After all the years the MacGregors have fought for their good fortune, to have it turned against us—"
Her eyes flashed. "Make no mistake, Lord Ashlund, it isn't the MacGregors's good fortune I hold against you."
"It is," he cut in sharply. "If I were Michael's son instead of Cameron's, you would view my suit as proper."
"That is not the point—"
"It is exactly the point. With anyone else I would not have had to say, You do realize I am a marquess? Yet, you say that is exactly what I should have done."