So she had said the name instead.
---
"Morwenna," her uncle said again, and grabbed her arm.
She did not pull away. She did not need to; the duke was coming back up the aisle, and her uncle, seeing his face, let go of her of his own accord.
"Is it true?" said the Duke of Kelmscott. He had stopped a yard from her. He was much younger than she had imagined — not much past thirty — and very tall, with a long, plain, serious face and his sister's eyes. She had not expected him to have his sister's eyes. "Miss Penhallow. Is it true? You've seen her?"
"I've seen her. I've spoken to her. Three weeks ago she was alive and well and teaching eleven little girls the use of the globes."
He shut his eyes.
"This is nonsense," said Rupert Saltash.
He said it lightly. He had got his face back. He stood there with his hands loosely clasped behind his back, looking from Morwenna to the duke with an expression of rueful concern, like a man watching two friends make fools of themselves at cards.
"I'm sorry, my dear," he said to Morwenna. "I'd no idea you were so unhappy in this match. You had only to tell me. There was no call for — this." He gestured gently around the church. "I don't know what woman you've been talking to, or what she's told you. But I've never been to Gretna in my life, and I've certainly never been married. Mr. Fothergill, I think the bride is unwell. Perhaps we had better adjourn."
"I think," said Mr. Fothergill unexpectedly, "that we had better adjourn in any event, sir."
Everyone looked at him. He had gone very pink, and his book was trembling, but he held his ground.
"An impediment has been alleged," he said. "By the bride herself. A prior marriage. Particular names, particular dates, a particular place. I am not a lawyer, Mr. Saltash, but I know my canons. I cannot marry you while that stands. If it is false, it may be disproved, and I shall be happy to read the service on another day. But not this one."