by Marian Tee
Their eyes clashed, hers wet with tears and his filled with regret.
“Let me go,” she begged him, doing her best to find the strength to yank out of his touch even though she already felt so weak.
That she was reduced into begging killed him, and he rasped out, “I’m sorry.” He had so many more things to say, but his voice was drowned out by an ear-splitting sound that blasted out of the speakers as the sound system switched on.
The entire ballroom was suddenly covered in darkness, but a moment later, a limelight shone, its powerful beam of light focused on a tall, svelte woman standing at the center of the stage.
Camilla.
Fuck. He had forgotten about Camilla completely, and seeing the mysterious smile lingering on her lips shot a jolt of pure terror through Rathe. He knew then he had only so little time left to make Mary listen and prevent her from leaving him.
Turning back to Mary, he said urgently, “Please listen to me.” His grip unconsciously tightened, a part of him recognizing the fact that no matter what he said or did, it might be too late. “Camilla and I—”
Hearing another woman’s name on his lips made Mary want to cover her ears. Even if it was Camilla’s name, it hurt. Oh God, oh God, why did he keep saying another woman’s name?
Before Rathe could finish what he was saying, Camilla had taken to the mic again on stage.
“Tonight, I’d just like to share the most spectacular news with every one of you.” Raising her champagne glass to the air, she murmured, “I, Camilla Daughtry, am now engaged to Rathe Wellesley, the Duke of Flanders.”
Mary’s eyes darted wildly to the stage.
And maybe, maybe she was just imagining it but Mary could have sworn her eyes met Camilla’s. Bu this time, there was none of the kindness she was used to seeing in the other woman’s eyes.
Right now, it was all pure malicious triumph, and the same feelings seemed to underline her throaty voice as Camilla said, “So ladies, to celebrate my happiness with you, I’m giving you leave just this once to go to my man and kiss him to your heart’s content. Because after this, he’ll be all mine.”
After taking a tiny sip from her champagne, Camilla raised her glass once more. “Go get him, ladies.”
Her laughter acted like a bell, signaling the start of chaos. She stared in cold amusement as bedlam erupted, female guests giggling, cheering, and as one turning towards the Duke of Flanders to hunt him down.
Tonight would make the most spectacular tale, Camilla thought, and to ensure it she had gone as far as having trusted employees spike the free-flowing champagne with a tiny dose of recreational drugs, just enough to make everyone excited.
Tonight, she would be remembered as the woman who had thrown the most talked-about party of the year.
Tonight, she had started to conquer the world as the Duke of Flanders’ intended bride.
****
The world spun around Mary faster and faster, making her faint. She looked about her desperately, wishing there was one thing in her surroundings that would jump out.
Rathe couldn’t be so cruel to have promised to marry another woman so quickly.
This couldn’t be happening.
This had to be a dream.
But the women were coming to them in droves, and as her vision started to swim, their faces blurred, melded, turning into grinning, screaming monsters wearing blush and red lipstick.
Dimly, she heard Rathe calling out to her. “Mary? Stay with me, Mary—”
But it sounded so faint.
And then suddenly, he was gone, his fingers falling away from her wrist as a stampede erupted, forcing the two of them apart.
“Mary,” Rathe roared when the woman he loved seemed to vanish in front of his eyes.
But there was no answer, and a sickeningly ominous sense of foreboding suddenly struck him.
“Mary!”
At that moment, he completely forgot about being a gentleman as he forced himself out of the deluge of women trying to steal a kiss from him.
If he didn’t feel like his world was crashing down on her, he would have laughed at the insanity of it. Who the bloody hell heard of a man being accosted by a goddamn throng of kiss-hungry females?
But Rathe would gladly see none of them forever if he could have just one glimpse of the woman he loved.
“Mary!”
From another direction, he heard other people calling out his name, the voices familiar.
“Rathe, stop!”
His head whipped towards the sound, and to his shock, Rathe found his own parents doing their best to make their way towards him.
“Have you seen Mary?”
It was hard to hear each other through the cheers of the hordes of women surrounding them, but Alyssa was able to read his son’s lips. An expression of stunned dismay crossed her face as she realized Mary was not with him either.
“I don’t understand. She was supposed to be with you—” She had to stop talking, busy trying to keep her eyes on Rathe as women tried to get between her and her son, the looks on their faces making it clear they would stop at nothing to get to the duke.
“Good Lord, what’s happening?” she cried out.
Rathe shook his head. “I’ll explain later.” He had to bat away women as he spoke, and turning to another direction, he shouted at Alyssa, “I just have to find—”
He stopped.
He had finally found her.
Mary.
Her face was deathly pale, her eyes blank with pain.
“Mary—”
Her eyes closed and she started to fall.
“Maaaaaary!”
Chapter Thirteen
When Mary opened her eyes, she found herself in the hospital, Alyssa Wellesley seated by her bed. The woman’s face was visibily strained, and she was obviously forcing herself to smile when she saw that Mary was awake.
“How do you feel?” Alyssa’s voice shook as she asked the question.
“B-better.”
“That’s good.” Trying to control her emotions, she told Mary, “You fainted. Do you remember?” At Mary’s nod, she continued, “The doctor told us it was mostly due to exhaustion and the fact that your last meal had almost been fourteen hours ago.”
“I g-guess so.” She tried to recall the last time she had eaten and was stunned to realize that it was probably breakfast. After that, so many things had happened that she just forgot completely about eating, her only thoughts composed of finding a way—
She squeezed her eyes shut.
She mustn’t think of that any longer, mustn’t think of anything that would remind herself of...him. Even now, the pain of trying not to think of him was so terrible it had her curling into a ball.
“A-Alyssa?”
Alyssa wanted to cry when she heard Mary’s choked voice. She knew, without the girl saying another word, what the young girl wanted to say. “I’ll keep my promise, my child. Just say the word.”
Her relief at hearing the words caused a lone tear to slip. “T-thank you.”
Stroking Mary’s hair, Alyssa asked, “What do you want me to do?”
“I want to go to a far away p-place. I want a w-way to f-forget.”
****
As Rathe was driven to the hospital Warren told him Mary was confined in, memories of Mary filtered through his brain, castigating him.
It was as if time had bloody stopped for him when he saw Mary lose unconsciousness.
He had run like hell towards her, but still he had been too late, the sound of her head thudding against the floor the worst thing Rathe had ever heard in his life.
He had fallen into his knees as he dragged Mary to his lap, his hand shaking as he stroked her face, his stomach churning at its sickly pallor.
When the crowd started inching towards them, he growled, “Stay the bloody hell away from us if you don’t want to be hurt.” His desperate gaze trained on Mary, he had pulled out his phone and called for an ambulance. The second call was to hi
s security, and in moments they had surrounded Rathe, preventing anyone from getting near.
The appearance of a medical team rushing inside the ballroom had worked like a bucket of ice water thrown at the crowd, sobering them up and causing them to back away.
Mary had started to stir by the time she was moved to a stretcher, but the moment she had seen Rathe looming over her, it was as if a switch had gone off.
Before he could say anything, Mary had turned wild, trying to get off the stretcher so she could get away from him.
“Let me go, please. Please.”
She had sobbed the words over and over, and the sounds had left him ashen.
It had forced Rathe’s mother to stand between Mary and him, her voice firm and pleading as she asked him to stay away for Mary’s sake.
“I know this is hard, but I know you want her to receive proper attention. The only way for that to happen is for you to keep your distance from now.”
The memories made him want to smash every window in the car, his self-hatred reaching violent proportions.
Taking his phone out, Rathe clicked on the Messages icon in hopes of having additional updates about Mary. Most of the recent messages were from Camilla, but one of the unread messages was from Warren.
He clicked on his father’s message, and his screen immediately displayed a series of screenshots of another person’s texts. Although no names were ever mentioned, it took Rathe only a short time to figure out that it was a conversation between Camilla and his housekeeper, Mrs. Emerson.
Rathe’s disbelief gradually turned into ice-cold rage as he came to appreciate how intricate the web of deception Camilla had wrapped around all of them.
Every step had been planned, every word she uttered a lie. Everything she did was contrived to make Rathe and Mary see her as a harmless third party, when in fact she and her father had been the traitors in their midst.
Suddenly, everything became clear. Why Wilson had told him of his parents’ pre-nup contract and pressured Rathe into signing him. Now, he understood how Camilla had played on his and Mary’s fears, causing a rift between them by convincing Mary it was better for her not to attend the party with him.
And the worst thing about it was the engagement, the Daughtrys’ coup de grace. If not for his parents exposing the truth about them, Rathe knew it was more than possible he would have remained blind to the two’s duplicity.
“Your Grace?”
At the chauffeur’s words, Rathe looked up and realized they had already reached their destination.
Shoving his phone back in his pocket, Rathe hurriedly stepped out of the car. Bursting through the hospital doors, he grimly made his way straight to the nurse station, not pausing for anyone and uncaring of who he ended up mauling down in his haste.
All that mattered was to see Mary was all right.
When he saw his father in the waiting area, Rathe demanded, “Where is she?”
Seeing his son approach, Warren heavily came to his feet. “I’ve been waiting for you, son.”
The words were completely unexpected, throwing Rathe for a loop. It had him lurching into a stop, his concern for Mary depriving his every movement of his usual grace. “Where’s Mary, Father?”
Instead of answering, Warren said, “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Rathe shook his head. “Whatever it is, it has to wait. I need to see Mary—” The memory of seeing her faint made him shudder. “I need to see her,” he repeated doggedly. “I need to see she’s okay.”
When Rathe started for the nurse station, Warren held his son back. “You won’t find her here.”
“What do you mean I won’t find her here?” Rathe snapped. “Didn’t you text me that she was confined here?”
“Yes, but—”
Rathe growled, “I don’t know what games you’re playing—”
“She doesn’t want to see you again!”
Rathe completely lost color at the words.
Warren hadn’t meant to shout, but the desperate light in his son’s eyes had told him it was the only way he could get through Rathe. “Mary isn’t here, but I can assure you that she’s fine. She’s in good hands and your mother’s with her.”
After a beat, Rathe’s head jerked in a nod.
Inhaling, Warren knew what was next would be more difficult because it involved hurting his son in the process. “Now, I have something to tell you. Something that your mother and I should have told you from the start.”
When Rathe started to shake his head, Warren raised his hand to hold his son off. “I just need a moment of your time. Just listen to me this once because this has something to do with you and Mary.” Feeling a little unsteady on his feet, he jerked his head towards the seats in the waiting area. “Shall we take our seats first?”
“Whatever you want,” Rathe said numbly. There was a dull sound ringing in his ears, a warning that whatever he was about to learn, it wouldn’t be good.
When they were both seated, Warren asked quietly, “Do you know about Mrs. Emerson?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry about it. And Camilla.”
Rathe said gruffly, “I’m sorry about Wilson. I know you and he have been friends much longer.”
Warren laughed shortly. “Well, turns out that your mother was right. He really is a crazy son of a bitch. I was a fool to trust him over your mother…” He paused. “So don’t beat yourself up for the rest of your life because you may have believed Camilla over Mary.”
Self-revulsion engulfed Rathe at the words. “I’ll do my best, but I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it.” He closed his eyes. “I really thought I knew everything…”
“I did, too. Your mother did, too, and I’m sure there were instances Mary did, too.” Warren smiled briefly. “You see, son, that’s how love is. It makes us so bloody vulnerable, makes us feel so damnably powerless that we sometimes put up defenses…”
Rathe laughed hollowly, remembering the numerous times he had tried to distance himself from Mary.
“And use pretenses…”
He asked flatly, “Is that a dig about the fake engagement?”
Warren clapped a hand over his back. “Good to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor even when the woman you love has left you.”
Rathe flinched.
A moment later, Warren watched with blurry eyes as Rathe slowly ran a hand over his face. He remembered seeing his son do it countless times when he had been young and too proud to cry.
“Father?”
“Before you tell me what you have to say, I want to ask you just one thing.” Rathe’s voice was leaden, as lifeless as he felt inside.
“Anything.”
“Is Mary truly safe?”
Ah, fuck. The pain in those words made Warren wish he had the power to share his son’s burden. If he had been searching for proof that what Rathe and Mary had was the same with what he had found with Alyssa, then that one question was it.
Rathe could have asked where had Mary gone. He could have asked if she truly did not want to see him. But in the end, Rathe’s love for the girl trumped everything else.
Warren said gruffly, “Yes. She’s safe.”
Rathe managed a smile. “That’s all that matters.”
It took a while before Warren could speak again, finding it especially hard to keep a tight rein on his emotions. “Even though you haven’t asked the questions, I’ll give you the answers anyway.”
Rathe’s head whipped towards him.
“Mary went away in a place she’s hoping you won’t find her. She loves you, son, but…she’s also in a lot of pain because of what happened—”
“Don’t bother to sugarcoat it,” Rathe said bitterly. “She’s in pain because of me.”
Warren shook his head. “No, son. In many ways, Alyssa and I are to blame as well. Because your actions are the result of the childhood you had.” Forcing himself to stop beating around the bush, he said tersely, “You once ask
ed us about the pre-nuptial contract between us.”
Rathe stiffened. “You were right, Father. That’s none of your business—”
“It is your business. And to answer your question, it was because your mother was once what everyone was saying she was.”
Rathe stared at his father uncomprehendingly. “I don’t—”
“She was someone who married me for my money.” Before his son could react, Warren told the rest of his story. And when he was done, he said heavily, “Neither of us wanted you to know the truth because we feared you’d lose all love and respect for her. But now, I know that was a mistake. We should have told you. If we had, then maybe none of this would have happened. If we had, you might have understood love a little better and feared it less.”
Warren forced himself to meet his son’s gaze. “I’m sorry, son. I’m sorry we kept that from you. But now you know, I want you to finally take off the weight you’ve always carried on your shoulders all these years. Because, son, love – whatever shape or form it takes…”
This time, it was Warren’s turn to run a hand over his face.
“It doesn’t matter whether you fall in love with someone thirty years younger or older than you. Love that’s true can’t ever be a burden.”
Rathe slowly ran his hand over his face once more. “Bloody hell, Father.” He laughed, the sound painful but genuine at the same time. “Couldn’t you have told me this when I was six?”
Warren joined in the laughter.
“Ah, God.” Rathe squeezed his eyes shut, and he said brokenly, “I truly love her, you know.”
Warren’s chest tightened at the despair in those words. “I know.”
Chapter Fourteen
A year later
Scotland
“Morning, Mary.” The greeting came from her octogenarian neighbor, Mr. Craig. Actually, he was her only neighbor in miles around, and that was what she liked so much about the sleepy little town she had been living in for the past year.
“Morning, Mr. Craig.”
He glanced curiously at the box she was dragging towards her cottage. “What’s that you have?”
