by Marian Tee
Everything they had may have to come to an end.
****
Mary slowly put her pen down when her handwritten notes started swimming in front of her. Glancing tiredly at the clock, she was surprised to find out it was already four in the morning. Just two hours and she had to start preparing for school. It was probably better she just continued working, Mary decided, and catch up on sleep later.
Getting up, she poured herself another cup of coffee. When the caffeine started doing its work on her system, she returned to her seat and resumed working on her article.
Although cited studies do show the possibility of parents passing on criminal tendencies to their children, this theory – and it is still a theory – cannot be considered applicable due to several fallacies and facts that the aforementioned news agencies had misrepresented to the public.
After listing the factual errors committed by the tabloids that had chosen to target Rathe’s mother, Mary moved on to the second half of the article. It was the part she dreaded the most since this time, she was determined to defend the Wellesley family. But she also knew she had to do so without appearing biased in their favor.
The press must be reminded that their power to publish and distribute content to the masses is always accompanied with responsibilities – duties that they are expected to exercise with honor and integrity.
Imagine, for instance, if the target of their recent work had been a minor. Imagine the potential repercussions when a child ends up reading such content. Whether or not their insinuations may turn out to be the truth is immaterial. What must be highlighted here is that their assumptions are at present both invalid and inaccurate. If there is any smidgen of doubt, then they must exercise due diligence and refrain from publication until they have gathered sufficient evidence to defend and prove their claims.
Innocent until proven guilty is the maxim today’s civilized society supposedly lives by. This author believes in it, and so she respectfully withholds judgment from those who have ended up intentionally and unintentionally persecuting the Wellesleys through print. If only they had chosen to act similarly.
To conclude, this author would like to leave the readers with a simple and short message:
Warren and Alyssa Wellesley only exercised their individual rights and personal freedom when they chose to love each other and become united in matrimony.
I, Mary Ashton, am also exercising my individual right and personal freedom when I chose to love His Grace, Rathe Wellesley, the Fifth Duke of Flanders.
Mary exhaled when she finished writing the last word. This was it then. If she chose to publish this, it was no different to completely opening her life to the public.
Biting her lip, she slowly reached for her phone. She knew she was being pathetic, but she couldn’t help it.
She dialed Rathe’s number and her heart sank when it started to ring...and continue ringing. But just when she was about to lose all hope of hearing Rathe’s voice, she heard a telltale click. It was the sound of her call pushing through, and Mary held her breath.
“Hello?” The duke’s low, crisp tone traveled through the connection like a melody she had missed hearing. For a moment, all she could do was bite her trembling lip, knowing she needed time to control her emotions.
Finally, she said, “H-hello.”
The shaky note in Mary’s voice had Rathe’s fingers tightening around his phone.
Bloody, bloody, bloody hell.
This girl was not right for him, the same way he was not right for her. When they were together, they only ended up causing each other pain. But even so, Rathe heard himself ask, “How are you doing?”
“I’m doing fine.”
It was a lie, and they both knew Rathe was aware of it.
“A-and you? H-how are you doing?”
“Still doing damage control.”
The words caused Mary’s gaze to stray to her laptop. Its screen displayed different pictures of him and Camilla going out every night in the past week. Did that mean that she, Mary, was the damage and the other woman was his way of putting an end to it?
Mary blurted out, “With Camilla?”
The moment she mentioned the other woman’s name, Mary knew it had been a huge mistake, and her fears were realized when Rathe asked icily, “Exactly what do you mean by that?” At that moment, nothing would have made Rathe admit the truth: that Camilla somehow always ended up being in the same area he was, and Rathe had felt courtesy-bound to keep her company over dinner.
At Rathe’s tone, Mary mumbled, “Nothing.”
“Don’t be shy now,” Rathe drawled.
Rathe’s sneering tone made Mary cringe. It was her first time to hear him sound so nasty, and she shook her head, a part of her wanting to deny what was happening.
“Let’s not talk about it, please, I’m sorry—”
“Actually, let’s. You started it, so now finish it.” The silence that followed grated on him, feeding on his stress. It made him feel defensive, like a damn bully, and he despised that even more. He said grittily, “Do you know that I’ve been working twenty damn hours each day since I came here—”
Mary protested, “I didn’t say you weren’t—”
“—so I guess I’m deeply sorry,” Rathe apologized sarcastically, “that my mistress doesn’t believe I have the right to relax a little by enjoying dinner with an old friend. Someone I have known practically my entire life and—” He stopped speaking in time.
Mary felt herself losing color. Forcing the words through bloodless lips, she said unevenly, “Go on.” When the duke didn’t answer, she released a humorless laugh, and a self-mocking note entered her voice as she said, “Don’t be shy now.”
Hearing his own jibe thrown back at him made Rathe flinch. Goddammit, what was happening to them? “Mary—”
Mary screamed, “Say it!”
Tears silently started to run down her cheeks. Oh God, how did it come to this? She had only wanted to hear his voice, so why did it end like this?
Mary’s scream proved to be the last straw, pushing him over the edge. His temper exploded, and Rathe said savagely, “A woman. That’s what I wanted to say,” he snarled. “That she was not a girl, not a child – that she was nothing like you. With a woman like Camilla, I can expect her to understand—” He stopped speaking the moment Mary ended the call.
Rathe threw the phone across the room, and the device smashed against the wall.
Fuck.
His fist slammed against the desk, breaking against the sheet of glass that covered it.
Fuck.
Was this really the fucking end for them?
Chapter Nine
After taking a shower and changing into her uniform, Mary slowly walked to her desk and gazed down at her calendar. It had become a ritual of sorts, ever since Rathe had left for London.
Forty-three days, Mary counted numbly. It had been over six weeks since she had last seen Rathe, five weeks since their violent argument over the phone. She had not tried to call him since then, and he had not tried to call her either. It was a stand-off, something Mary knew she was bound to lose because of one essential thing.
She loved him.
And the duke did not love her.
The thought had her torn between crying and throwing a tantrum. Was this truly it? Should she simply give up and leave? Suddenly, the words of Rathe’s mother floated back to her mind about the last time she and the duke had fought.
Hadn’t she allowed her fears to get the better of her that time? Would she allow the same thing to happen again?
No.
This time, she would not back down. This time, she would fight for him.
Squaring her shoulders, she quickly made her way downstairs. Teddy was already waiting for her outside the house, and she asked him hurriedly, “Could you take me to Rathe’s parents’ home?”
“Sure, but...are you going to skip classes then?”
“I’m a-afraid so. This is more important.”
When they reached Warren and Alyssa’s mansion and were asked to identify themselves at the gates, Mary nervously wondered if they would be allowed to enter.
If they weren’t, she would just find another way to talk to Alyssa, Mary told herself.
Fortunately, the automatic gates swung open a minute after, and Rathe’s chaffeur drove them through the winding path leading to the Wellesleys’ palatial home.
As they came nearer the front door, Mary gulped at the sight of the former duke waiting by the steps.
Warren kept his face expressionless as he watched the bodyguard assist Rathe’s young mistress out of the car. Looking at her, it was easy to understand the attraction she presented in his son’s eyes. She was a shapely little thing, and her inherent air of feminine grace was one most women nowadays lacked.
As the girl came to face him, Warren became uneasy when he noticed the dark bags underlining her eyes. She had become much thinner, too, her curves practically swallowed by her uniform.
Ever since their first meeting, Alyssa had been endlessly harping on him about giving this girl a chance. Although he had found himself considering the thought, last month’s events had served to strengthened his resolve not to accept Mary Ashton.
She might very well be a nice girl like Alyssa said, but at the end of the day, she was only going to cause his son to suffer his entire life. That was something Warren would never stand for, not even if he had to play the villain in everyone’s eyes.
“My lord,” Mary said quietly as she curtsied.
Warren nodded. “Miss Ashton.”
Mary swallowed, knowing the formal address was an indirect but pointed reminder that Rathe’s father did not consider her as even a close friend of the family.
But then, she really couldn’t be called that, could she? She had to remember that her love for Rathe did not erase the fact that she was only Rathe’s mistress.
“Is there something I may do for you?”
Clearing her throat, she asked, “I was wondering if I may speak with your wife, milord?”
An imposing frown furrowed the Warren’s forehead. “May I ask what your business with her is?”
She hesitated. “A p-private one, sir.”
His said sharply, “My wife and I keep no secrets from each other.”
“I’m a-aware of that, but I would just r-rather speak to milady about it.” She knew he was trying to intimidate her. It was working, but even so, she forced herself to stand her ground.
Warren was grudgingly impressed at the way the girl was standing up to him. Deciding to change tactics, he deliberately opted for a brusque tone as he said, “You do know you have a lot to do with the trouble my family is facing?”
Warren’s question had the girl paling. He thought he had finally scared her off for good until she lifted her chin and said, “I know.”
Warren was stunned at the strength underlying the words.
“I know...I’m t-the last girl in the world that the duke should love.” Mary’s voice shook as she spoke the unbearable truth of her relationship with Rathe. “I know, t-that because of me, h-he m-may be made the butt of j-jokes forever. That people w-will always think he took a-advantage of me.”
She looked up at Rathe’s father, willing him to see her determination to see this to the end. “But milord, I p-promise you, w-when I’m b-by your son’s side, he will never feel alone. He will never feel unloved.”
As the girl spoke, the emotions weighing down each word was like a visceral sound that stabbed his heart, killing all of Warren’s doubts until all that was left inside of him was shame.
Despair battered her body when Rathe’s father still didn’t speak, but she continued doggedly, “I know I don’t deserve your son, sir.” Every word she spoke felt like she was cutting her heart open for Rathe’s father to see, piece by piece. Forcing her to meet his gaze, she whispered, “But please let me love him anyway. G-give me a chance, and I will love him so much that nothing the world says would have an impact on him. That’s how strong,” she choked out, “my love for him is.”
Behind Warren, his wife said quietly, “Do you understand now, my love?”
****
Nearly an hour had passed before Mary felt sufficiently in control of her emotions to make herself meet Alyssa’s gaze. They were alone in the mansion’s small library, with Rathe’s father having excused himself earlier.
“You are feeling better now?” Alyssa, seated across her, queried in concern.
Nodding, Mary said tremulously, “I’m sorry—”
Rathe’s mother shook her head. “No apologies. If there must be one, then it is I who should have said sorry for not going to you first.” Sadness darkened her blue eyes. “I should have known you would be suffering so much—”
It was Mary’s turn to shake her head. “No, mila—Alyssa,” she corrected herself when she saw Alyssa’s smile fade a little at Mary’s use of her title. “This...everything...is how it should be. Finding the courage to come here, it was something I needed to do.” Flushing at what she was about to say, Mary explained, “I n-needed to do something to m-make myself b-believe that I’m strong enough to fight for Rathe.”
“And are you now?” Alyssa gently.
Slowly, Mary nodded. “I am.” A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “I used to think that because of my age, I wouldn’t ever find the guts to do certain things. But when I thought about...” Unreleased sobs had her inhaling and struggling to get more oxygen into her lungs. “When I thought about life without Rathe, I just realized I would never be able to live with myself if I didn’t fight for him with everything I’ve got.”
When she raised her head to meet Alyssa’s gaze, she was stunned to find Rathe’s mother quietly crying. “Alyssa, I’m sorry—”
“No.” Alyssa shook her head fiercely even as more tears fell. “You misunderstand. These are tears of joy. You don’t know how long I’ve prayed to have someone like you love my son. And now that you’re here...” Impulsively, she reached forward to grasp the girl’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Whatever you need, my child, I will help you.”
The words were exactly what she needed to hear. “Then, Alyssa,” Mary said haltingly, “could you tell me if you really meant what you said before?” She almost lost her courage then and there, but she told herself there was no turning back.
“What I said?” Alyssa echoed with a frown.
“Yes.” Even as she felt her lips drying with fear, she made herself ask the question. “Did you really mean it when you told me you believe Rathe loves me?”
The words, combined by the terror glittering in Mary’s eyes, almost made Alyssa ache to comfort the young girl, and there was only one way to do that.
“I’m going to tell you a story, Mary.” The shameful secret she was about to share made Alyssa want to hide, but for her son, she was willing to do everything.
“There was a time when I was really poor. I had no parents, no family. All I had was myself. And my determination to survive. The first time I met Warren, the chemistry between us was instant, explosive. It was a whirlwind romance, and we were married right away. But I didn’t love him then.”
Mary’s lips parted in shock. “But Rathe told me...”
“I never had the courage to tell him the truth.” Alyssa started to sob. “I didn’t want to risk losing his respect. I didn’t want him to stop loving me. You see, what everyone’s saying is true. I was a gold-digger. I agreed to marry Warren in exchange for a life of security. I was so scared of being poor that I refused to sign a pre-nuptial contract, and it caused a rift between Warren and his father.”
Wiping her tears, Alyssa continued, “But eventually, I found myself falling in love with him, and with it I began to hate my old self – hated how shallow and selfish I had been. Everyone was talking about us, and the gossip became so bad that I decided to have the family lawyer draw the contract you and Rathe discovered. I threatened to leave Warren if he didn’t sign it. I wanted him to use it to put a
n end to all the rumors about us, but...he didn’t use it.”
Behind them, the door opened, and Alyssa and Mary turned to see Warren walking inside. It was clear on his face that he had heard everything.
“Of course I didn’t use it. Why should I?” Warren came to stand beside his wife, and Mary’s eyes prickled with tears when Alyssa laid her cheek against his hand.
“I love my wife, and she loves me. Both of us know it, and it’s like what you said.” For the first time, Warren smiled at Mary.
She covered her mouth at the sight of it, trying not to cry.
“Knowing that we love each other was all the protection that we needed, and all of a sudden it was like nothing could harm us.”
Alyssa’s smile dimmed. “But our past had hurt our son, and that’s the one thing I will always—”
Warren frowned down at her. “Enough of that, my love. Don’t you see? He will stop hurting, too, now that he’s found the woman for him.” He turned to Mary.
“And that’s you. Alyssa chose to share our story because...” A discomfited look crossed his face.
“Because I see Warren in you, Mary. You love Rathe the way he loved me, without limits, without any thought of wanting something in return. And I...I see myself in my son, the way life has forced him to be strong, independent, and fearful of being hurt.”
Alyssa and Warren exchanged a look that spoke volumes of their feelings. Without glancing back at Mary, she said quietly, “You asked me earlier about whether it’s true that I believe Rathe loves you.”
Slowly, Rathe’s mother faced her. “Yes. I do. But I don’t think he knows it yet. It’s up to you to make him see the truth, the way Warren made me see.”
The words sounded so easy to do, but Mary knew it was the exact opposite. “But what if still he rejects me?” she whispered. “What if he doesn’t believe me?”
As Rathe’s mother, Alyssa wanted to tell Mary that she shouldn’t give up. That she should keep trying. But as a woman, Alyssa wasn’t blind to all the sacrifices the girl had already made for her son.
