Page 72 of Her Heart's Rightful Earl
‘They stopped our carriage!’ Charlotte looked between Lady Wellwood and Alexander as she re-told the events she had already recounted to Thomas. ‘They insisted I bring Thomas this note, and they stole Arabella away …’ Charlotte dissolved into sobs as Thomas held her closely.
Lady Wellwood covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide in anguish, and realizing there would likely be instructions within, Alexander grappled with the letter, reading aloud.
‘Brother Alexander.
How smart you are, that it only took you four long years to deduce the truth.
You should never have returned.
I am holding your love, Arabella, at a deserted house in the woods—I have sketched a map below for you to find us.
You will attend within two hours of receiving this letter, or she will die.
Do not inform the authorities, or she will die.
Do not attempt to rescue her, or she will die.
Your surrender in exchange for her life.
I know that you will come because I know that you love her.
Your sentimentality will be the death of you. Do not make foolishness the death of both of you.
Your expectant brother, Marcus.’
The room fell silent, though the clamour of tension buzzing in the air was almost audible.
‘Oh!’ Charlotte collapsed to the floor in distress. Thomas knelt beside her in concern.
‘I should have fought those men!’ Charlotte yelped. ‘I should not have allowed Timpkin to return me home without fighting for her!’
‘This is not your fault, Charlotte!’ Thomas consoled her.
‘It is not,’ Alexander agreed. ‘The responsibility lies solely with my despicable brother.’
Alexander’s eyes zipped cautiously to Lady Wellwood.
‘Mother, I apologize.’
Margaret nodded sadly, tears now streaming down her face. She understood that his apology was not for his harsh words, but for what he must now do.
‘I have only just regained you, my beautiful son!’ Margaret sobbed, and Alexander went to her, taking her hand and kissing it.
‘I must rescue Arabella, Mother, no matter what price I have to pay,’ Alexander told her with panic in his voice.
‘Of course you must,’ agreed Margaret as she held Alexander’s hand to her cheek, leaned her face against his hand, and closed her eyes, as if saying goodbye.
‘Take a gun, Alexander,’ Margaret insisted.
All three there assembled looked to her in shock.
‘Conceal it, of course, but do not go in unarmed,’ she continued.
‘Mother, this is Marcus–’ Alexander contested.
‘Yes, and he is a monstrosity.’ Margaret openly wept. ‘He is willing to kill his father, his cousin, and now his beloved brother! He may be my son, but I cannot be instrumental in protecting him any longer. If it is you or him that must die, let it be him.’
Margaret buried her face into a white cotton handkerchief, and Alexander squeezed her hand once more before striding towards the door.
