by Lauren Smith
Annalise and Ryan walked inside. Lord Sheffield closed the door behind them and gestured for them to go to the sitting room. The viscountess was already seated in the room, pouring a cup of tea. “So good of you two to join us. I told Marrok you’d be fine.” She smiled up at Annalise. “Lord Cinderbury is taking wonderful care of you, isn’t he?” She lifted a brow.
“Uh, yes, of course,” Annalise agreed. “Grandmother, what’s going on?”
“Your wedding of course,” she replied nonchalantly as if that statement answered all of Annalise’s questions. “You two must leave at once.”
“We don’t have a lot of time,” Marrok said hastily. “I fear Lady Delilah saw me leaving. She tried to follow me, but I had to dissuade her of that idea.” Irritation reverberated in his voice as he spoke. “She’s been rather—persistent in her pursuit. I don’t know what father was thinking. I am not marrying one of those awful debutantes.”
Ryan couldn’t hold back his laughter at that statement. “My stepsisters are rather difficult to be around.”
“Your stepsisters?” Annalise tilted her head. “How? I…”
“It’s a long story.” And he was rather surprised none of them had mentioned their acquaintance at dinner. He didn’t trust them one bit. Lady Penelope must have something planned if she’d kept that tidbit to herself. “I haven’t actually spent any time in their company in years. My father married their mother and didn’t survive long after it. Lady Penelope and her daughters are the worst sort of females. Your father must truly hate both of you. I have to wonder why.”
“Perhaps because he doesn’t believe they are actually his children,” the viscountess replied. “My daughter had trouble conceiving. He blamed her for the failed efforts for a number of years until she finally became with child. Marrok was the result of that. Then, several years after that, Annalise was born. Both of them resemble Sarah. The only difference is Marrok has blond hair and Annalise’s is black. She has more of the duke’s coloring, but he refuses to believe Sarah was faithful to him. I think that’s why he had her murdered.”
“Is that why he married Estella’s mother?” Marrok asked. “I always wondered why he’d bothered.”
Ryan stared at the viscountess, shocked by her words. How could one man be so bloody evil? He would disown his own children because he couldn’t find it in his heart to accept them? He hoped he never became that bitter with life himself. He’d come damn close to enduring a miserable existence. At least he had finally awoken from that and found a woman to love. With Annalise at his side, he had faith they’d find their way to true happiness.
“Yes,” the viscountess replied. “That, and Pippa had been the Marchioness of Cinderbury. Her husband left her a hefty inheritance that made her even more enticing. She already proved herself fertile. Estella was all the confirmation he needed that she could have children. But she died attempting to give him the heir he believed was his. Unfortunately, the child had been stillborn, and female. He hasn’t tried since. Instead, he has done his very best to make the two of you miserable.”
A lot of the words that the viscountess said made perfect sense. He never understood why the Duke of Wolfton treated his children so horribly. The way he’d discarded Estella hadn’t surprised Ryan as much. Some people never should have children, and the duke was one of them. “Why hasn’t he publicly disowned them?”
“Because he doesn’t have a true heir,” she answered. “Or, at least, one he believes is. Stupid man wouldn’t know what’s true if it smacked him in the face. My Sarah was never unfaithful. She came to me in tears often.”
A thought formed in his mind, and he asked, “Is that why he did his best to steal your son’s inheritance? Does he blame your family?”
She nodded. “My son was young and foolish. He learned a hard lesson, but he’s fully recovered. I stayed here to be close to the grandchildren that needed me. He offered me a home with him in Dorset, and maybe one day I’ll go there too, but for now, I’m content here.” The viscountess sighed. “We’re wasting time. The three of you must leave immediately. Scotland is too far to go—the archbishop won’t argue against two marquesses. Especially, when one of them is the lady’s brother.”
“I can’t go,” Marrok said. “Someone will have to stall father.”
“But…” Annalise stared at her brother. “You don’t know what he’ll do. You can’t stay. Please, come with us.”
Ryan wasn’t sure what he should do. Marrok was right. If he stayed behind, he could help delay the duke, but Annalise wouldn’t leave him behind. It was a conundrum—one he didn’t see any way to decipher, but that didn’t matter. Hell broke loose before any of them could make a decision. The door flew open and slammed against a nearby wall. The Duke of Wolfton stomped in, fury pouring off of him in waves. Red tinged his cheeks and spread through his face with each step he took. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“Father,” Annalise started with feigned shock. “What a surprise. I didn’t realize you ever visited grandmother.”
What’s she up to now? There was no escaping the duke’s anger, and he feared they’d not get the head start they would need. Pleading with the duke wouldn’t work. He was an evil man, and he didn’t want what was best for either of his children.
“Do sit down,” the viscountess said to the duke. She brought her hand up to her chest as if terrified, and she very well could be… “You’re quite rude.”
“I will not.” He nearly shouted the words, then turned to Annalise and Marrok. “You two get in the carriage. We’re returning home immediately.” Then he looked at Marrok. “And you can forget about choosing between the two girls. I’ve already made a decision for you.”
“I’m not marrying either of them.” Marrok stood tall and glared at his father. His eyes darkened, and his lips formed a thin line. He met his father’s gaze with hard determination etched across his face. “They’re both petty, mean girls, and I’ll not tie myself to a lady such as those two. If you like them so much, you marry one of them.”
“How dare you,” he spat out. The duke picked up a nearby vase and whipped it in Marrok’s direction. He ducked in time and the vase hit a nearby wall, shattering into hundreds of pieces. “You insolent pup—you will marry the one I chose, or I’ll disinherit you.”
“Go ahead,” Marrok replied, standing up tall and straightening his jacket. Those words were both a dare and a rebuff. Ryan respected him for finally defying the duke. It couldn’t have been easy for him. “I don’t need you, your title, or your bloody money. I have only put up with you this long because of Annalise, and I have faith Cinderbury will protect her.”
Marrok was correct there. Annalise would not return to the duke’s care. Ryan would do whatever was necessary to protect her. By the end of the day, she’d be his wife whether the duke liked it or not. He’d shout it from the rooftops that he’d taken her innocence if that furthered his cause. His heart beat heavily in his chest. He should help Marrok. The duke never lost before, and that made him capable of anything.
“You’d be wrong,” the duke said. “I’ll see you both dead before I let you walk away from me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pistol. He pointed it at Marrok first. Ryan hated being right… He had no idea what he should do. “Are you prepared to die?”
Marrok didn’t look away from the duke. Instead, he took several slow steps until he stood directly in front of him and no more than an inch separated him from the pistol. Ryan silently applauded his courage. While Marrok occupied the duke’s attention, Ryan had gradually made his way to Annalise’s side. He’d step in front of her to protect her from the duke’s wrath if he had to.
“Go ahead and pull the trigger,” Marrok dared him. “You won’t be able to kill us both. You’ll never reload in time. Would you rather I die, or your daughter?” The marquess’s taunt echoed through the room. Ryan continued to shield Annalise. “It’s as I thought. You’re a coward and always have been.”
“Don’t
think you can outsmart me. If I have to choose, then by all means I’d rather see you die then her. At least she has some use to me. Her marriage to Kildare will help my business interests. You’re not my blood, and at least your death will ensure my title doesn’t go to one of my wife’s bastards.”
The viscountess had been correct. Wolfton didn’t believe that Annalise and Marrok were his children. The duke didn’t deserve either of them. Ryan had to do something, or he’d kill Marrok. It would devastate Annalise if she lost her brother. “Do something,” she hissed from behind him. “He’ll do it. I know my father.”
“Darling,” he urged as he glanced over his shoulder at her. “It would make things worse if I got between them.” He had to try to keep her calm, but she was fast losing patience. If he didn’t keep her back, she could end up the one with a lead ball in her.
She glared at him and then turned her attention to Marrok and the duke. “Don’t do something you’ll regret, Marrok,” Annalise said. “Be reasonable. You can’t let him shoot you.” She rose to her feet and headed toward him. Ryan reached out and circled his arms around her waist, holding her in place. She’d make things worse. “Let me go,” she demanded and scraped her nails over his shirt. If she reached his bare skin, there would be several bloody scratches where her nails scraped over him.
“Go by your grandmother,” he ordered.
Annalise moved to the countess’s side but didn’t seem too happy about his domineering command. He was fine with that as long as she remained safe. Ryan started toward the duke and Marrok. He’d acted too late though. As he turned to help, the two of them were already struggling over the pistol. Marrok twisted his father’s arm, and the duke twisted to his side, trying to wrench control back.
Marrok was younger and stronger though, and the duke didn’t stand a chance of winning. His face reddened even more than it had been, and he suddenly stilled. Then he yanked again at the pistol, trying one more time to pull it from Marrok’s grasp. Marrok pushed back and there was barely any distance between the two men. A shot echoed through the room, and Ryan rushed forward as both men fell to the ground. He wasn’t sure who had been hit, or if either one of them had.
Marrok rolled away from his father. Blood coated his waistcoat, but he appeared unharmed. The duke on the other hand was struggling to breathe. “You’ll…regret…this…” Wolfton barely managed to utter those words. Blood soaked his shirt and coat. His face had gone pale, and his eyes were glassy.
Marrok stood and stared down at the dying duke. “You left me no choice,” his voice hoarsened as he spoke. “You’re not a good man, Father. I wish this could have ended differently.”
Annalise rushed to her brother’s side and hugged him tight. “Thank God you’re safe.”
The viscountess rose to her feet and slowly walked over to join them. She stared down at the duke with pity radiating from her eyes. “He’s a sad man, and he’s dying without anyone who truly cares about him at his side.”
Ryan swallowed hard. The duke tried to suck in air, until he breathed no more. What little color that had been left on his face had disappeared and he turned as white as snow. The duke died as he lived—alone. “Is it over?” the viscountess asked.
“It is,” Ryan answered. He leaned down and pushed the duke’s eyelids downward, his expressionless eyes unnerved him. “We should perhaps call the magistrate.”
Marrok shook his head. “He was the magistrate for the county. It’s left to me to decide as his heir.”
That made things simple. “It was an accident. No one present will disagree with it,” Ryan said. Marrok had been stiff and unmoving since he stood. He hadn’t even hugged Annalise back. “Will you be all right?”
He nodded. “In time. I’ll return home and have them prepare for his arrival.” Marrok turned to his grandmother. “Can you have your footmen deliver his body to the house?”
“Of course, dear boy,” she said. “Go. Everything will be fine here.”
Annalise came to stand by Ryan. “I suppose we don’t have to rush to marry now. I’ll be expected to observe a period of mourning.”
“Not if you’re carrying my child,” he replied. “But we can at least wait to see if you are. If you’re not enceinte, we can plan to marry after the year of mourning is completed.”
Marrok didn’t respond to them. He spun on his heels and left the house. Ryan couldn’t really blame him. The ordeal had happened fast, and none of it could have been prevented. Someone was bound to be hurt once the duke had pulled the pistol out of his pocket. If the old man had any sense, he’d have walked away and not tried to murder his own children. Ryan couldn’t help wondering what would drive a man to that level of insanity and cruelty.
He pulled Annalise into his arms and held on to her, then whispered in her ear, “I love you.”
“I thought you’d never say it,” she replied back. “I love you too. Promise me, that no matter what happens in our life, we’ll never forget that.”
“Darling.” Ryan looked into her eyes. “When we met, I found a love perfect for me. You’re beautiful and sweet. If I’d known you were out there waiting for me, I wouldn’t have stopped searching until I found you. My heart will always belong to you, and I promise you I won’t forget how much you mean to me.”
“Good,” she smiled. “Because my heart belongs to you too. You’re the dream I never hoped to have, and one day, I hope we’ll have so much more, but even if we don’t, I promise I’ll be happy just to say I belong to you forever.”
Ryan couldn’t stop the smile from growing on his face. The day had been full of turmoil and uncertainty; however, it hadn’t been all bad. He’d found love and the possibility of forever with the woman he adored. They could work on creating their own version of perfection.
Epilogue
One year later
The sunrise brought various shades of color across Cinderbury Manor. Ryan had never believed he’d find a reason to actually reside in his home, but he’d discovered a very important one when he’d fallen in love with Annalise. Today was their wedding day. The crisp morning breeze had blown through his study’s window when he’d thrown it wide open to appreciate all the gifts bestowed upon him. Happiness could be elusive, and he fully intended to enjoy every moment of his life. He was incredibly lucky to have found Annalise.
A knock echoed through his study. He turned around and found his cousin, Estella, waiting at the entrance. She’d come in to visit him a couple days ago in preparation for the wedding. “You look lovely,” he told her. She wore a sapphire colored dress, a similar shade as her eyes.
“Are you ready to become a husband?”
He’d been ready a year ago. Annalise was finally out of mourning. She didn’t particularly miss her father, but grieved the man she wished he’d been. A part of him had wished she had become pregnant. It would have given him a reason to push for the wedding sooner. Alas, she hadn’t, and he’d been forced to wait. He wished, of course, they could be together sooner, but he knew she was worth waiting forever for. She should have the time to grieve so they could start their marriage without any pain holding them at bay.
Marrok still hadn’t fully healed from the ordeal. He remained stiff and closed off to those around him. He was now the Duke of Wolfton, and on the outside appeared almost as cold as his father had been. Ryan understood why. Killing his father, even in defense, left a scar deep down inside of Marrok. It would take a while for him to recover. Ryan hoped he found a love of his own.
Giving his heart to Annalise had helped Ryan heal in ways he never could have imagined. Sometimes beauty came out of the darkest of moments, and he had found something worth fighting for with the love of his life. Marrok’s day would come. Ryan fully believed that. It amazed him how much his outlook on life had changed. His whole world had been shaken up by one little slip of a lady.
He turned to his cousin and came out of his own thoughts. His smile was genuine and had been for months. “I’ve never been more ready. H
ow’s the bride?”
“Anxious,” she said. “I’ve come to walk with you to the church.”
He nodded and headed over to her. “There’s no one I’d love to escort me more.”
“Not even me?” a gruff man said.
They both turned to meet the gaze of their grandfather, the Duke of Ashthrone. Ryan hadn’t thought the old man would make the trip for the wedding. He hardly ever left his estate. “You’re welcome to join us as well,” Estella offered.
Ryan should be surprised Estella had offered. Their grandfather hardly paid her any mind. Had left her in the Duke of Wolfton’s care for far too long when he should have fought to have her at Ashthrone. It was his wedding day though, and he wouldn’t allow anything to stomp on his happiness. “Yes, grandfather,” he encouraged. “Please walk over with us.”
They strolled in silence until they reached the church. Before they were about to enter, the duke reached out and placed his hand on Ryan’s arm. “Please stay a moment. There are a few things I’d like to say.”
Ryan nodded. He hoped it wouldn’t be something that angered him. “Go on,” he told the duke.
Estella turned to leave them alone, but the duke touched her arm too. “Stay. This concerns you too.”
She glanced at Ryan and then back at the duke, but didn’t say a word. He didn’t blame her. The duke had taken him by surprise too. He stared at the duke, waiting for him to unload his conscience. Finally, he began to speak, meeting Estella’s gaze, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. My biggest was letting the Duke of Wolfton bully me into leaving you in his care. You must understand—he knew that my son wasn’t your father. It’s wrong of me to let that rule my decision. Wolfton was a cruel man, but he was also your true father.” He swallowed hard. “Your mother fell in love with him, but her parents wouldn’t approve the match. It’s why she let him have control over your guardianship even though the world didn’t know he was your true father. He seduced her—I don’t know—he might have loved her in his own way.”