He couldn’t stop the smile that broke over his face. Aye, there were so many things wrong with this day—her shame at being left at the altar. Her parents’ fury at a switched bridegroom. The fact that he didn’t have a wedding licence, which made this entire ceremony illegal. But this was about saving her from humiliation. And when he glanced at her mother, Lady Havershire seemed to understand.
The Earl of Havershire was another matter. ‘Regina—’ His voice was razor-sharp, but she interrupted him before he could protest.
‘Everything will be fine,’ she said. ‘We will be married.’
He started to shake his head, but she sent her father a sharp look of warning. Then her mother leaned in and spoke softly to the earl. Dalton didn’t know what she had said, but it seemed to pacify the man.
The clergyman’s expression was concerned, but Regina muttered beneath her breath, ‘Continue the ceremony, if you please.’
‘But, my lady, without a—’
‘Just say the words,’ she interrupted. ‘We will worry about the rest later.’
He knew the clergyman was speaking about the lack of a licence. But Regina had effectively silenced him, implying that they would correct the matter at another time.
Dalton nodded in agreement. And when the clergyman began the words to the wedding ceremony, he no longer cared about anything else. He was speaking vows to the woman he desired above all others, the woman whose heart he wanted. Regina had, by some miracle, agreed to marry him in front of guests. He didn’t know what had convinced her—and he knew she had no feelings for him beyond friendship—but for now, it was enough. He pushed back the rising doubts that warned him she would regret this. After a few weeks of living in Scotland, she might wish she’d never gone through with the false marriage. Regina deserved a true English gentleman as her husband, and Dalton could never be that for her. The wildness of Scotland burned in his blood, and he could never be a proper viscount.
When the minister asked if there were any reasons why they should not be wed, Regina turned to her parents and sent another silent threat. Her mother’s face was pale, but she said nothing at all. Neither did the earl.
It surprised him that they’d listened to their daughter, for he’d expected her parents to raise any number of objections. But he supposed they were trying not to cause a scene in front of so many guests. It was bad enough that Lachlan had cried off, but Regina had clearly made her choice. She spoke her vows in a voice loud enough to be heard by all.
Dalton, in turn, promised to love and cherish her, forsaking all others. When it came time for the ring, she appeared worried for a moment. But he had come prepared for that, and he reached into his waistcoat for his grandmother’s wedding ring. It was a simple silver ring, engraved with roses, and he slid it on her finger. The clergyman blessed their marriage, and Dalton leaned in to kiss her. It was only a slight meeting of lips before he pulled back.
‘This isn’t a true marriage,’ she whispered.
‘Aye,’ he agreed. ‘But they don’t know that.’
‘My father very well might murder us both,’ she said against his ear. ‘What shall we do? There will be so many questions. People will want to know why I married you. And why my parents didn’t put a stop to it.’
Dalton cupped the back of her nape and whispered back, ‘I think I should carry you off, as a Highlander would. It would save us from answering questions.’
Her expression turned thoughtful, and she nodded. ‘I agree with you. We’ve already created a scandal. We might as well make our escape.’
He reached down and lifted her into his arms. Regina let out a startled gasp before she tossed her posy of flowers to one of the women. To the crowd of guests, Dalton called out, ‘Enjoy the wedding feast!’ He strode out of the room, taking her away. And from the way she clung to him, he suspected that Regina didn’t mind it at all. Several of the shocked guests began to applaud, and a mood of good humour rose among everyone.
He took her to his waiting coach and lifted her inside. Regina still had amusement on her expression, even after he spoke to the coachman and closed the door.
‘What have we done, Lord Camford?’
‘I believe we’ve caused the scandal of the Season,’ he said. ‘And I, for one, am glad of it.’
Regina had never done anything this spontaneous in all her life. It felt strangely good to be rebellious. Her bridegroom had run off, and in return, she had married someone else. Sort of. Without a licence, it wasn’t really a wedding or a marriage. But somehow, it had been empowering to take command of her situation and ensure that she wasn’t abandoned at the altar.
Before their coach could drive away, her father was banging on the door with his fist. Camford didn’t open it. ‘We can leave if you don’t want to talk to him.’
She didn’t, but somehow it seemed even worse to turn her back on her father. He was likely in shock after what she’d done, and she did owe him an explanation.
‘No, it’s all right. We should open the door.’
The moment Camford did, she regretted the decision. Her father wasn’t in shock—he was livid with rage.
His face was practically purple, and his greying hair was in disarray from where he’d raked his hand through it. ‘Regina, what have you done?’
She could tell that her new husband was about to intervene, but she lifted her hand, silently asking him to wait. ‘Lord Camford offered to stand in for Locharr when he didn’t arrive.’
‘But Lachlan agreed to marry you. Something must have happened,’ her father argued. ‘I cannot understand why you felt the need to go through this...sham of a ceremony.’ He stopped to glare at Lord Camford. ‘It is not
