From Jilted Bride To Powerful Marchioness

e organ faded into the stone

beeswax. Through her veil's delicate lace, Adela Mays watched the sea of faces-hundreds o

damp inside h

skin. This wedding was her only escape, her only path away from a home where she

k on the wall

ld have started f

rustling. He shot a nervous glance at the

vet-then grew into a barely suppressed buzz. Eyes darted from her still f

lifted a fan to her lips. Above its painted silk

doors gro

the groom, Lord Julian Blackwood, who stood silhouetted agains

the silent marble. He didn't look at Adela. He couldn't. His gaze staye

ly the parchment rattled. The wax seal, stamped with the proud lion of th

le, turned the color of ash as he read,

pew, a voice cut through t

does i

ckwood. Julian's grandmother. Her posture

her gaze, the bishop found h

He begs forgiveness, but he has eloped with a commo

hung in the air,

apel e

hispers at all. The sound washed over Adela in a wave of humili

ndoned bride. The laugh

e. Her father, the Earl of Norwood, his face a mask of purple fury, started to rise, t

d, Adela's body swayed-just once, a

he sto

cry. She d

thing no one could ha

erfectly steady, and took hold of the lac

revealed to them all. Her eyes were not filled with

d-and came to rest on the front pew, on the Blackwood family. It settled on the

Broderick Blackwood, t

the tomb-like silence of the ch

, each word perfectly f

she had lost her mind. The groom was

dressing Rowena Blackwood directly

th, "the actions of your grandson have brought un

ed, her spine

w, "I demand that the Blackwood family provide a replacement. An u