Page 59 of When her Duke Returns
For Mary Carlisle, it was not a tale at all nor an end but a beginning, and nohappily ever afterlay in wait beyond her vows. She did not walk proudly down the aisle to the God-wrought love of a prince or a king. She hobbled up the path as best she could to a beast in human form.
With her brother at her side, Mary pressed forth into the church. She swept beyond its heavy iron doors, beyond the witnesses in their pews, gawking—some in jubilation, others in dread—at her ambling gait, beyond the lilies and the ribbons set out by her mother, and beyond the sweet whispers of different lives and their many archons. What might have been flew past her in quick succession, not stopping for breath, as she locked eyes with the man she feared more than ruin.
They came to a stop before the minister, and Harry was asked to release her from his hold. With a sigh, he stepped away, and Mary felt the walls of the chapel entomb her. She waited and listened and wished for a miracle.
Not a miracle but a crash came banging from the entrance to the church, and all eyes turned to its ancient, crested doors. And there stood—much as he had months prior like an angel against the light of day—the Duke of Redgrave.
“Tell me it’s not too late.” Was all he could ask as he stumbled into the chapel. “Tell me you haven’t signed anything,” he added with more fervor as the scene came into view.
The room spiraled into disquiet as a series of desperate objections rose to the open sky above. Alexander paid no mind, not to the whispers nor the hands that sought to stop him, as he rushed toward the dais.
His eyes were locked on his firmament, onMary, as she stood beside his most desperate enemy—a paragon of beauty in her scarlet-colored gown. She tore herself from the dais as if by instinct, and it brought him no end of satisfaction. He reached for her from afar, his hand anchored before him, and Antony tugged her back with a growl.
Alexander could practically see the steam rise from the Earl’s head as he regarded the Duke with the most ardent detestation. The Duke continued his march, and not a soul was brave enough to stop him. His face was bare of its bandages, his hair tousled and slick with sweat from his ride, and his brown traveling gear stained dark from the kick-up of dust. All of the witnesses looked upon him with disgust, but he could not bring himself to care—not now nor ever again.
It was not until he reached the second row of pews from the dais that someone sought to stop him. It was Francis, who rose to his feet in a flurry on the order of Burkley, his chin high and his body quaking in fear.
“Do not do this,” Francis urged the Duke, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Walk away or,by God,you shall suffer the consequences of your misdirection at my own hands!” Within seconds, Sir Tristan had come to the Earl’s aid, pressing Alexander back as he snarled against their hold.
He paid them no mind. “Mary,” Alexander cried, slipping a hand between the men to reach for her. She tried to jump forward, but Antony’s hold on her was too fierce.
“Unhand him,” she ordered her brother, shouting across the chapel. “Don’t hurt him!”
“You cannot let her do this,” Alexander hissed to Lord Carlisle. “You are not socravenas to let her do this. You know what man he is! You have forever known, Francis!”
To Alexander’s greatest surprise, it was Antony who sought to stop the animosity. “Let him speak,” he said with a voice that was still and cool, and the room fell into instant quiet at his words. Alexander made the most of the chapel’s stupor to slip through his defense and shake off the two lords holding him at bay.
He growled and dusted himself off. “Do not marry him, Mary,” he pleaded in earnest. He had not thought to prepare a speech. He hadhopedto catch her before it had been too late—before an audience would be upon them. There was nothing else for him to do but speak from his heart.
“I love you. You know it to be true… And youknowyou feel as I do! People of our class go their whole lifetime without meeting someone who sets them alight,trulyalight. We cannot let this chance slip us by! I will never stop fighting for us; I swear it before God himself. I have never begged for anything, but I beg of you now—do not do this!” He turned to Antony then felt himself sink into madness. “You know this isn’t right. You will ruin her life and yours!”
Alexander watched as Mary fell apart, tears running wildly down her face. It looked as though she sought to speak, her rosy lips parting softly in silence as if the words had caught in her throat.
“I know you, Mary. And I know you must feel as though nothing you can say could possibly be true to all facets of your heart… But I beg you, say something. Tell me you love me back! Tell me this is all a mistake!”
He waited for a reply, but only quiet prevailed. It was broken only by Antony, who chuckled grievously and stepped before Mary in her silence. “Do you see, Redgrave? Is it plain to you, now? She does not want you,” he growled. “How could she! Look at you! Not a man but a beast, barely worth the air you breathe. I thought you would be trouble, and that I might have to prove myself to those who still hold you in their hearts… But you have done a most marvelous job of parading your shortcomings to all those in attendance with your many perversions.”
“You will not speak of character to me,” Alexander graveled as the whole of his memories of the Earl shuttered before his eyes. “Notyou! Not a soldier who could not stomach war! Not a lover who was too weak to fight for what he wanted! Not a friend who had to wait until my death to pick clean my corpse of virtue!”
“I have fought,” Antony bellowed, his hands spread wide and shaking, and the room began to shift. “More than you know! More than any of you wouldbelievefor what is mine!”
“You may call me a beast—have it at that! Better a beast than a coward!” Alexander spat.
“And what of you then? Back-stabbing, philandering, muck on my shoe! You speak of love as if you know its meaning! You speak of love as if you have a heart! You do not know of love any more than you know strife, rabid dog! Forever skirting by on your wealth, on your looks! Look at you now! You have lost it all, and you are nothing—lessthan nothing. You should have stayedgone! I prayed every night you would not return from sea. That something would halt your return. The tampered records would only hold so long. I prayed, and I prayed, and I—” Antony inhaled realizing he had revealed something of terrible gravity, and it gave his witnesses pause.
Alexander took a moment to sift through what the Lord had hawked. “The tampered records?” he echoed as the queerness of the statement dawned on him. “What do you know of any records?”
Antony took a step back, his mouth falling agape. His eyes went wide as he looked around as if seeking to flee. “I didn’t say…” he began in a murmur, shaking his head violently. “Stop! Stop!Stop!”
His sudden cowardice was all Alexander needed to confirm his suspicions. “It wasyou,” Alexander gasped as the reality of the moment dawned upon him. “You altered the records. You… From your station, before you returned from war, you must have…You made them all believe I was dead by forging a receipt of my death. But…how?”
Antony burst forward to the lip of the dais, a nervous grin painted across his mouth. “You don’t know what you’re saying. It isn’ttrue!” he cried, his voice breaking against his desperation.
“Itwasyou! Is that why you followed me to war? Not as a comrade, but to put an end to me? You couldn’t even do it, could you? You couldn’t see it through. You had to fumble with the documents because you weren’t man enough to kill me with your own hands!”
At that, Antony let out a guttural roar unlike any Alexander had ever heard, and it shook the chapel to its very foundations. He pushed the minister to the ground then barreled past Francis and the other lords in his way until he was face to face with the Duke. He cried out again then pulled a pistol from his jacket pocket with incredible haste and pressed it to the Duke’s forehead.
The chapel erupted into a series of screams as attendees began trampling over themselves to leave. They pushed past one another in a storm of muslin and velvet, climbing over the pews, screaming,pleadingas they went, the few men in attendance seeing to their wives first. The cluster bolted through the church doors until the ruins were near empty of guests. Alexander watched as Harry tried to urge Mary from the church, but she would not be moved, statuesque in her alarm. Her feet were cemented to the ground, her gaze settled on the pistol and the cold spot where it met Alexander’s head. Only they three remained at Burkley’s mercy.
