Page 75 of Her Heart's Rightful Earl
Commotion erupted from all directions as there were suddenly shouts and hurried loud footsteps. In the chaos, Arabella peeked out above the crates to see Thomas and a uniformed gentleman—whom she assumed to be Captain Morrison—launching into the room.
From behind them charged several men from the authorities, who collectively pounced upon the brothers, restraining the astonished earl as they shouted instructions at one another.
Alexander extricated himself from the writhing mass of men on the floor, and as he did so, Marcus’s aggressive shouts disintegrated into pitiful sobs. He sounded like a small child, and Alexander could make out the words ‘Mother! I am so sorry … Mother, please love me still …’
Glancing back, Alexander could see that Marcus had curled into foetal position on the ground, rocking, in a state of complete emotional collapse. The authorities exchanged looks of consternation but continued to fix him to the floor in case this was a dramatic ploy to render their defences vulnerable.
With Marcus suitably detained and his wrists cuffed by the authorities, Alexander tore his eyes from the mangled mess in front of him and off to the side, where, behind the wooden crates, Arabella lay cowering.
Alexander leaped over to her and bent down to cradle her in his arms, and as he brought her to a sitting position, they embraced. It was overwhelming to his senses, in this bleak, dank-smelling room, to inhale her warm, comforting, floral scent. He buried his face in her shoulder and held her closely in a bid to quell the tremble that dominated her body.
He moved his head to one side to angle his mouth next to her delicate ear, and he whispered, ‘I love you, Arabella. I never stopped. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for bringing such degradation and horror into your life.’
Alexander felt, rather than heard, her smiling next to him, and she rubbed her face against his cheek tenderly. He felt wet where her tears flowed, and he brought her gently to her feet.
The authorities were moving Marcus off the floor, and they escorted him out the door of the house as he wept pathetically.
Alexander and Arabella followed behind, as though in a mournful funeral procession. For they had succeeded in surviving, but Alexander could find little joy in the capture of his brother.
‘Lord Wellwood?’ A suited man from the authorities approached. He had not been embroiled in the physical arrest of Marcus but seemed to be an official overseer of the capture.
Alexander stuttered, unable to easily respond.Washe a lord? Did he now assume the title Earl of Wellwood, in the absence of his brother’s sanity? And—more pressingly—was he to be arrested for desertion and perverting the course of justice?
‘Lord Carrington and Captain Morrison have recounted to me this inexplicable situation.’
Alexander could only nod, open-mouthed, half-watching as Marcus was loaded into a carriage by the wooded area.
‘I can assure you that we will be officially clearing your name of any suspicions. It is clear to me that what has occurred here is a man driven mad by greed, driven to procure all he wants, to the detriment of others—even to kill.’
Alexander swallowed hard and nodded. He could not defend his little brother anymore.
***
Lady Wellwood’s small frame wracked with sobs as she held Alexander to her.
‘I thought I had lost you all! My husband to murder, my son to madness, and then you—I thought you were sure to be killed by Marcus, Alexander!’
‘I thought so too, Mother, I must confess.’ Alexander consoled Margaret as he hugged her to him.
‘Yet, still you came to my rescue?’ Arabella said, almost to herself, as she stood beside them.
Alexander turned to her and frowned. ‘Of course. Where else would I be?’
Despite holding his mother with one arm, Alexander reached out with his other arm, and Arabella took his hand gratefully.
‘Sally!’ Margaret’s voice rang out, vital and healthy along the hallway where they gathered for their reunion. ‘Bring us all some sweet tea, please!’ Then, turning to Alexander and Arabella. ‘You need something for the shock … now come and sit down.’
Margaret led them all to the sitting room, where they silently took seats, each entirely engaged in their own thoughts.
‘How did he seem?’ Margaret asked Alexander distractedly. ‘When they took him away?’
Alexander looked to Arabella as if for guidance on how she should approach this question.
‘Frantic,’ Alexander answered honestly, for he could not bear further secrecy. ‘He became as if a small child. Fretful.’
Margaret dipped her head. ‘His uncle would do the same, following violent outbursts.’
Alexander and Arabella exchanged a concerned look.
