Page 54 of The Marquess' Wicked Wager
“Blushing bride...let us hope your virtue remains.”
That had done it. With a tremendous, gut-wrenching cry, Albert rushed for his father. He grabbed him by the cloth of his jacket and spun him so as to look him in the eye as he said, “Daemon!” With all his might, he shook his father by the lapels of his jacket…but the monster merely laughed.
Albert drew his hand back, and before he could think better of it, he struck his father square in the face. His father recoiled, stumbling toward the flower beds, but he regarded Albert with a pleased snarl. “That’s right,” he hissed. “Show the girl who youreallyare.”
There was a cry, most likely from Edna, but Albert could not make sense of anything beyond the stinging in his hand. His father bolted toward him, and Albert narrowly missed a blow to the jaw. He ducked, grabbing his father and pushing him away with a groan. The villain struck at himagain, and Albert was not quick enough to dodge. He saw stars as his father’s fist connected with his nose, shaking the injury off as he doubled over.
Everything had led to this. All his life. Every instance of torment, of bullying. Every woman his father had destroyed. All the dreams he had tossed to the fire of his father’s ire. And for what? To bridle a man who was more evil than flesh? To hope, in some way, he might give his father a chance at redemption?
And then, he saw it. The flint of metal in the faint light of the sun. A pistol. There would benoredemption.
His father pointed the barrel straight at him, not caring one bit for their company. The Duke was no more a man than a shadow, his eyes dark and unyielding. “Cease your squirming, or I shall have no choice but to put...you...down.”
There was only the ticking in his chest and Edna’s face. There was only the sun and the ground. There was only the dream of a woman’s love—of a life he would make for himself with her at his side.
There was only that, and then there was a shout as his uncle barrelled toward his father. The gun went off, but it was too late, for Jonathan had pushed the Duke over. His father’s head had connected with the stoned base of the flower bed, and beneath him pooled blood.
There was a cry, and then there was nothing—as the Duke of Craster slowly bled to death, surrounded by flowers and family.
Epilogue
It had been two months, four days, and twenty hours since Lord Miles had killed the Duke of Craster. Edna knew, for she had not stopped counting, hoping—no,praying—for Albert’s quick recovery.
She was looking through a window in his London manor, laying on her bed on the uppermost floor of the building. She could see most of London from here but mostly gardens, and it was eerily beautiful though not in a way that incited her to draw. She had not picked up a graphite since returning from Gretna Greene.
They were married now, she and Albert, and it was the one bright spot in an otherwise dark stretch of mourning. It had happened in what felt like a fever dream a few days after the Duke’s death and mostly in secret. Up in Gretna as intended though not nearly as happy. Albert had said, quite rightfully so, that there would be no chance of their marrying if they were in mourning—a year for him if not more as was custom. And so, she had donned the same white and red dress as she had worn the day of Craster’s death, and she had walked to the anvil to promise herself to Albert for all time.
She didn’t mind. How could she? When she had secured the rogue of her dreams? He was not so roguish anymore, of course. For the first few weeks, he had barely eaten and barely slept, let alone ventured into town. There was no time for celebrating a wedding union when they were haunted by the ghost of Craster.
Albert had returned to her little by little. On the first day of the third week, he had cracked a soft smile. On the second of the fifth, he had laughed at something she had said. Two nights ago, he had joined her in her bed, and he had not left her side since.
She turned over to look at him, her gorgeous, dark, troubled husband, wondering what his life might have been if she had not been dubbed a diamond. She never wanted to find out, not if it meant living without him, no matter how selfish that made her.
Carefully, she grazed his forehead with the tips of her fingers, pushing a few ashen strands of hair from his face. He stirred slightly, and then his eyes flickered open, the irises of which were a vibrant, ethereal green in the early morning sun.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, my love,” she whispered and pulled the covers up to her neck. “You can sleep more if you so desire.”
Albert closed his eyes again, and his chest heaved a sigh beneath the quilt. “We cannot put the day off forever.” His voice was a rasp. “Did you dream?”
Edna smiled. “Only of you, darling. Only ever of you.”
She saw her husband next once his valet had left, creeping into his bedchambers after having broken her fast. The house was bubbling with activity on the ground floor, her father and Violet having come to show their support.
Edna wreathed her arms around Albert as he looked himself over in the standing brass-looking glass. He was dressed in black, theyallwere, and it brought to light the pallor of his skin. Humming a gentle tune, she dusted off his shoulders.
“I hate seeing you in such dark colors,” he murmured. “A green or a blue for you, always.”
“Lavender in a year, my darling, and a world of color after that.” She stepped around him, angling his face down, so he might kiss her.
“I’m so sorry,” he breathed against her mouth, “for everything I have done. For all the things I must put you through.”
“No,” she hushed, “it is all right. We are one and the same, you and I, in this together. Your burdens are mine.” She picked up his cold, soft hand, and brought it to her mouth. “Your grieving is mine.”
“You should be touring England on a sketching trip. That is what I dreamed.”
“I should be exactly where I am. Withyou—and nowhere without you.” She forced a smile, not knowing how much it might soothe him, her love, her heart. “This is our rain before the sun. I know it to be true.”
They parted after that, and she did not see him again for an hour. He had gone ahead of their party with her father, having said the air and a ride would do him so well. Edna was traveling with Violet in a carriage, and it plodded its way toward the cemetery in Chelsea.
