Page 9 of When her Duke Returns
“Smile, sister. The ton can hear you now.”
“My Lords and Ladies,” Francis pronounced with great presence. “I trust that you have enjoyed your night of revelry so far,” he continued, to which the crowd softly hummed.
“As the head of our great family, it falls to me to oversee our growth, our victories, and our failures. When our father, the late and formidable Earl of Hatton, passed two years ago, we vowed to never let his memory be forgotten and to strive each day to leave this family stronger than it was the day before.”
“My dear sister, Mary, the youngest and most lovely of us, has known her fair share of hardships. But her losses have only brought to greater light her brilliance. I am sure all can attest to her beauty and her spirit. After all, many were the lords who sought to win her affections. Doubtless, some of you are here tonight.” At this, the crowd broke into a burst of nervous laughter.
“But there has forever been one who has stood strongly beside us. One who, in friendship and courtship, has never faltered. A man with a spirit to match her own. A friend who I am proud to call brother.”Francis turned to Antony then and called the man forward. Mary watched as Harry’s face twisted into a grimace.
“To you, my dear Antony, I also propose a toast. In celebration of your betrothal to my sister, and as a warm welcome to our family. To Lord Burkley and Lady Mary!”
Francis raised his glass and nodded, and the hall erupted into a series of joyous shouts and cries. At that moment, the entire castle seemed ablaze with the promise of a new union. The musicians played at once, a song of hope and love, and it fell on Mary with resounding thunder. Time slowed then as the fragments of her life fell into a disordered mosaic.
She watched as her eldest brother took Antony in his arms, as her mother wiped away a tear that had not yet manifested and thanked a nearby lord and lady, as Cecelia and other friends gushed between themselves a few groups away, and as Harry, slipping his hand from her back without so much as a glance, began to walk away.
And as Mary stood in that gilded room in a dress of incredible opulence with high society at her feet, her heart was ripped asunder. It was only upon the loud creak and crash of the doors slamming open that her world fell back into focus.
The dark space between the two panes of oak opened outward piercing the heady insides of the castle like a shot through heaven. Rain was falling hard outside; none had paid mind to the coming storm. A gust of wind blew in from the tempestuous night and seized the attendees in its frigid embrace.
Thunder rumbled far away, and then, a flash of lightning brought to light the shadowed figure of a man, clad in red and dripping with rainwater.
It was, she knew with only a look, the Duke of Redgrave returned to them.
ChapterFour
Alexander stood at the edge of the world. At least, that was how he felt.
The room before him was unbearably bright, swallowed by a halo of golden light that bore into him as he entered from the night. His steps were measured, each one pulling more of the rain in and leaving a trail of water and muck behind him.
He had arrived at the castle only a short while before, having ridden from London to Devon on horseback in the space of half a day. Each step he took now sounded with the pain of his travel, sending waves of agony up his legs and back, and the recklessness of his pursuit.
Standing proudly in the middle of the great hall, he recognized the most prominent members of the Carlisle family, and it was in that spot that his gaze settled…For there she stood in indisputable glory: his grail, his undoing, his Mary.
Alexander felt his heart burst as he set his sights upon the woman; he was pleased to see that she could not draw her eyes from him any more than he could draw his away from her. She regarded him with the most curious expression: an intertwining of surprise, disbelief, and amusement.
She was even more heavenly than he remembered, dressed in a way that brought out the natural beauty of her complexion and eyes. They were large, dark, and unmoving, transfixed as he made his approach.
Not a lord tried to stop him as he edged toward her. A flurry of whispers began to circulate throughout the crowd of gatherers:“Who could that be?”one spoke.“The Duke of Redgrave. Impossible,”another answered. “Did he not pass in the war?”someone asked.“That’s not a duke. Look at the mangled face beneath those bandages! That’s a beast come to kill us all!”With that last sentiment uttered, the whispers grew in intensity, and fear fell over the hall.
He paid them no mind, shuffling through the solemn rabble of elites until he reached the small group of Carlisles. They stood in stunned silence, looking him over as if he was a daemon come to rip them of their lives. Beast or no, he would make himself heard.
“I am returned to you, Lady Mary,” he began, his manners left to the wayside. “I fear my travels have changed me considerably, but I would ask that you lend me a moment of your time.”
The woman could not speak. She simply stared ahead, a hand to her chest, her breathing heavy, and her lips parted softly in a stupor. A small ringlet of dark hair had slipped along her brow, and he yearned to reach over and brush it back as he had done when last they met.
“I swear to you,” he spoke softly now, only to Mary, “I had no intention of causing such a scene, and if I have brought any measure of embarrassment upon you, I can only apologize.” When she remained quiet, Alexander urged, “If we might talk outside but a moment.”
It was Francis who spoke first, delivering the man from his daze.
“I should think not,” the Earl of Hatton declared, placing a hand on the Duke’s chest to press him back. “You must leave at once, Your Grace. This is neither the time nor the place for such shows of mockery.”
Alexander felt the flare of his nostrils as he looked down upon the man’s insolent hand. “It is precisely the advent of such mockery that has forced my hand,” Alexander replied, unable to hide his disdain. “Not so much time has passed that you should be so distrusting of me, Hatton, and so bent on my being dead.”Francis’ eyes widened, but it was the younger Carlisle brother who spoke next.
“Alexander,” he said first. “Your Grace,” he corrected with a nervous smile, “perhaps we should take an aside and discuss things in a manner less likely to end in unpleasantness. Better to talk things over when we have all settled down… and dried off.”
“That will not be necessary,” Mary spoke at last.
The sound of her words sent a wave of shock and relief through him. Her voice was still as honeyed as it had been in his dreams, but she addressed him with a frigidity he had not expected and a curious glare that bore through him.
