“He was very frightened, but he knew if he didn’t speak, his sheep would be killed. And so he cried out for help and the men came. And he was a hero.”
At the last words, the duchess raised a trembling hand to her mouth before throwing herself into Alexander’s arms with a cry that sounded more like pain than joy. He held her against him, a long-lost son who had dreamed of this moment for more than twenty years, and Elsie could hardly bear to watch.
“My God, my God,” the duchess said over and over, tears streaming down her face. “Alexander, it is you. My God.”
She’d been so intent on watching Alexander, Elsie hadn’t noticed that Oscar had stepped down from the altar and approached his father. “Is he truly my brother?” he demanded, his voice raw.
Kingston stared at his youngest son, and without a word, sat down heavily in the pew.
“Is he my brother, damn you,” Oscar shouted.
As Kingston continued to stare blankly ahead, a low murmur started in the crowd.
“Yes, Oscar,” the duchess said with quiet strength, “this is your brother, Alexander.”
“But how? He died. Didn’t he die?” Oscar looked around at the faces staring blankly at him as if one of them would have an answer.
“I will explain all later,” Alexander said, his voice now clear and full of an authority that Elsie hardly recognized. The reverend no longer held her, for there was no need. Through all this, Alexander had not looked at her. Not once. And though she yearned to go to him, she held back, instinctively knowing that he would spurn her.
He bowed toward his mother and gave her the smallest of smiles. “Mother, I shall be in touch.” He looked over to his father. “I believe our attorneys are meeting tomorrow. It is my greatest wish that everything be resolved. I do apologize for the interruption. You may continue with the nuptials.” Finally, finally, he looked toward Elsie, and she nearly swayed from the force of his heated stare, filled with a terrifying combination of raging anger and unfathomable despair. “My fondest wishes for a happy marriage.”
With that, he turned and left, leaving behind a stunned crowd. As the door closed quietly behind him, Elsie collapsed to the floor.
Chapter 24
Two months later
Alexander entered Warbeck Abbey and ripped the black band from his sleeve, crumpling it into his fist.
“Your Grace, a Mr. Crowley is waiting in your study. I explained to him that this would, perhaps, not be a good time for you, but he insisted.”
Alexander stared at the butler, who’d been employed at Warbeck Abbey for as long as he could remember, and gave a short, jerking nod. After his father had died, Alexander had been tempted to fire everyone in their country house, but his mother had dissuaded him. In the end, the only casualty of his father’s death was his ever-loyal secretary, Farnsworth. It had given Alexander no joy to terminate the man, but he found that each time he looked upon his face, he felt the urge to vomit.
“I will see him, Hawkins. And I would appreciate your directing him to the library. I dislike the study.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Your Grace.
How strange it was to hear that title given to him. Two months ago, his father’s lawyers had agreed to draw up the necessary papers to acknowledge him as the rightful heir of Kingston, a decision that no doubt brought his father to an early grave. His father’s death left him oddly empty; he felt no great happiness and certainly no grief. He’d not seen his father after he’d rushed into the church, nor did he have any desire to. He was Duke of Kingston now; it was what he was meant for, even if he was only just realizing it.
He reached the library only a few minutes before Crowley was let in, giving him a chance to breathe deeply and let the fact of his father’s death settle in his mind. He presumed his lawyer was wasting no time in dealing with matters handed over to them from the old firm. It bothered him not at all that whatever this business was couldn’t wait until the day after his father’s funeral.
“I am sorry to disturb you on this day, Your Grace, but I didn’t think you would mind,” Crowley said, looking slightly out of sorts.
“Not at all.” He held up the crumpled arm band before tossing it on a nearby table. “As you can see, I have officially stopped mourning.”
Crowley smiled. “This was delivered one day after your father’s death.” Crowley handed over a piece of paper. “It is a petition from Lord Huntington, demanding that you make good on his daughter’s marriage contract.”
Alexander looked down at the paper and back at Crowley in disbelief. Even the thought of Elsie made his gut wrench, and so he’d avoided such thoughts these past weeks as much as humanly possible. The thought of marrying her sent a sharp stab to his gut that was difficult to ignore. He would never forget how it felt to stand at the door of the church and watch as Elsie, looking more beautiful than he’d ever seen her, stood calmly at the altar with his brother.
He’d nearly killed himself getting to that damned church, certain he was on a rescue mission, certain that his beloved Elsie had been forced to wed his brother against her will.
He’d looked for tears, for chains, for any sign that she was under duress. Instead, she’d smiled up at her father and kissed his cheek, and her smile grew when she turned to his brother and offered her hand to his. That was when Alexander realized with a sick twist of his bowels, that he had been a fool to think Elsie would honor her promise to him. A knife to his heart couldn’t have been more painful. It was then that he turned his anger toward his father. If his father hadn’t treated him like an unwanted horse, it would have been Alexander on that altar, standing next to Elsie, taking those vows. Blind with pain and a rage that frightened him even as it gave him strength, he’d shoved the door against the stone wall of the church as hard as he could, getting certain joy from the loud crack it made when it struck.
And now, Elsie, Oscar’s docile, smiling bride-tobe, wanted to marry him. Now, when she’d nearly killed him with a betrayal he could hardly bring himself to examine.
“Surely the marriage contract is not binding.”
“Typically, such contracts are not. But in this case, because of the large amount of money that has already exchanged hands, it’s a bit more complicated. I believe his lordship may be acting preemptively in the event you demand repayment of the settlement.”
“Ah,” Alexander said, finally understanding what this meant. “He fears I will demand the money back and so is making this offer to show good faith. He has no real intention of forcing a marriage.” It was a business deal, nothing more, and he felt even a greater fool for allowing the smallest bit of hope into his heart. This business of being cynical was still new to him, but he was quickly learning how.
“That may be the case. Or it could be he is earnest in his request,” Crowley said, his voice tinged with doubt. “This is the girl, is it not, who precipitated all the recent events?”
“It is.”
“You are within your rights to marry the girl. However, Lord Huntington did prepare a document in case you decided against such a union.”
“Oh?”
Crowley pulled out a sheath of paper. “They prepared this agreement, which Lord Huntington has signed already, making him not liable for any money owed and dissolving the contract altogether. Signing this document will make it as if it never existed.”
“How very mercenary of him,” Alexander muttered. “What is my other alternative?”
Crowley smiled grimly. “You could demand repayment.”
“Of the full amount?”
“Yes, your father paid Lord Huntington eighty thousand pounds for the privilege of having Miss Stanhope as his daughter-in-law.”
“It was an insane amount.” Repayment of that sum would surely have ruined the entire family. No wonder Elsie had felt so trapped. For some reason, that odd pain that had occurred less and less frequently since the day he’d stormed the church came back in force. He did not want to feel sorry for her; he did not want to think of her at all.
“Of course, you could marry her.”
Alexander clenched his jaw painfully, hating the knowledge that this was what he truly wanted. He didn’t want the money and he didn’t want to dissolve the contract. He wanted Elsie and he hated himself for it.
“But that is not what he wants. Not what she wants, obviously.”
“I wouldn’t know, sir.”
How shocked Elsie would be if he refused to sign this document. Obviously, being a duchess wasn’t so important to her, after all.
“I will not sign their paper,” Alexander said before thinking. But once said, he would not take the words back, even though the thought of marrying Elsie made him feel as if he were hurtling off a very high cliff. “I intend to enforce the contract as it stands. She wanted a duke; she’ll get one. But not the one she apparently intended to marry.”
After Crowley left, Alexander sat at a table laden with leases, titles, and financial documents, feeling absolutely no inclination to wade through any of it. His mind was only on Elsie and how she would react when her father’s solicitor arrived with the news of their impending marriage and the conditions he’d demanded. Once he had her, he would have everything it was his right to have. Everything his younger brother had thought to have. Oscar had been cordial to him, but had not appeared at a single meal since their father’s death. While Alexander had no culpability in what had happened, he still understood that his brother no doubt resented his sudden appearance—and at his wedding, no less. Now that he planned to marry the woman Oscar had thought all his life he’d marry, their relationship could only suffer. He didn’t know Oscar at all, had no idea of his life, his dreams, or how their father’s death had affected him. He was about to send an under butler to search for Oscar, when his brother appeared at the door.
“Your Grace,” he said, bowing deeply, and Alexander wondered if he’d been drinking. The few times he’d seen Oscar, he’d appeared to be slightly foxed.
“Oscar. I was about to go find you. I need to talk to you about a personal matter.”
His brother’s blond hair was mussed, his brown eyes red-rimmed, though Alexander was quite certain it was due to overindulgence the night prior, not grief over his father. Still, it was possible Oscar was grieving.
“I am at your service, my liege,” he said, again with a bow.
“Your highness will do,” Alexander said sardonically, which earned him a crooked grin from his brother, who threw himself down into the nearest chair.
“You know, brother, I spent my entire life preparing for the role you now take,” Oscar said lazily. “Every moment from the time I was three, I lived knowing that one day I would be duke. Our father, God rot his soul, took his duty of preparing me for that life extremely seriously. Do you not find it ironic that everything he taught me, every mind-numbing task he gave me, is going to be completely worthless?”
Alexander studied the younger man, who appeared more amused by his predicament than angry or bitter. “I’m afraid I am going to add to your list of things taken away,” he said. “I have agreed to honor the marriage contract.”
Oscar dipped his head and let out a humorless laugh. “Why not?”
“Do you love her?” Alexander asked, his body tense. He wasn’t certain he could marry Elsie if his brother loved her.
“No. I never got the chance, you see. From the time we were young, we were paired at dinner, sent to take walks together, all the time knowing we would one day marry. Why should I court her when she was already mine? Why would she pursue me? It was all very planned. Very business-like. Love had nothing to do with it.”
“Very well then. You have no objection to my marrying her?”
“Why shouldn’t you? You have everything else that was to be mine.”
Ah, thought Alexander, there was some bitterness, after all. “This is, none of it, our fault.”
“I do realize that. But I daresay it still stings a bit. More than a bit. I feel like a boat that’s been cut adrift. Shall I just float away and eventually sink?” Oscar stared up at the ceiling and looked very young and uncertain.
“Too maudlin. As you are no doubt aware, we have very many properties, more than I care to deal with. If you have a favorite, it is yours to do with as you like.”
“I’ll take this one,” Oscar said, then burst out laughing. “Perhaps I’ll buy a commission. Or become a vicar. Isn’t that what second sons do? Perhaps I’ll fade into a life of debauchery and sin.”
Alexander gave him a level look. “For now, I could use your assistance here. I confess I need help and no one knows of these matters better than you. You can drink and whore all you want once I am better able to understand all this,” he said, sweeping his hand over the mass of papers on his table.
Oscar was silent for a long moment. “You ask much,” he said finally.
“I know I do.”
“One month. Then marry and I will leave. Or rather, I’ll leave,
then
you marry. I don’t think I could stomach seeing you with Elsie. I would be spared that, at least.”
“Of course,” Alexander said.
Elsie sat in her room reading, as she often did these days. She no longer went to the ballroom, for the memories it held were still far too painful. Her father had asked if he should have the mural painted over, but Elsie couldn’t bring herself to do that any more than she could bring herself to look at it.
It would soon be over. No doubt Alexander had signed the paper her father’s solicitors had drawn up and she would never have to think about him again. Wouldn’t have to, but would. Every night until the day she died, she would think of Alexander and the pain and rage she’d seen in his eyes right before he’d turned and left the church.
She lifted her head from her book when a knock sounded on her door. “Enter.”
Her father came into her room, his expression unreadable. “Elsie, sit down,” he said, and Elsie started. She was already sitting and the fact that her father hadn’t noticed alarmed her. A sense of dread began to seep through her veins.
“I am seated,” she said, and patted the chair upon which she sat as proof.
“Ah. So you are.”
“What has happened? Please don’t tell me he is demanding the money. I feared such a thing even as I hoped he wouldn’t.”
Her father shook his head, but looked even more miserable. “No, no. It’s not that.”
“Then tell me. Goodness, Father, you’re frightening me.”
“I’m sorry, my dear. I suppose it’s best to just let it out.” He took a bracing breath. “He wants to honor the contract.”
Elsie felt suddenly weak and was grateful she was seated. “He wants to marry me?”
“He wants to honor the contract,” her father repeated significantly.
Elsie swallowed down the ridiculous joy that surged through her, sensing that joy was not an appropriate response to Alexander’s decision. “Why?” she whispered.
“I cannot say.”
“I don’t know whether to be happy or very frightened,” Elsie said, her voice shaking slightly.
“Once you are married to him, I cannot protect you. You know that, don’t you?”