Page 37 of The Wallflower and the Duke
“You can, or you don’t have to. It doesn’t change the fact that when I return we will be engaged, and you will be moving into Leebrook Cottage.”
“There’s no need to talk to me that way, Alfred.”
“I almost remained in this room, locked away, while you were in Bath. Leaving my heart here, ignoring everything I wanted because I wished to make you and Father happy. But I realized something,” he said, and he held his hands out, his voice shaking. “Father is no longer here. And I will never make you happy.”
“That’s not true,” she interjected.
He shook his head, continuing, “I don’t know what you want. You made up your mind about Marjorie Merryweather a long time ago. And if that is what you want to believe, then so be it. But she is the only woman I’ve ever loved. And I’m leaving for London today. Not tomorrow, right now, because I have to. I don’t care about the challenges of getting to her, I’ll damn well crawl the whole way if it means I can hold her once more. She doesn’t deserve to be taken advantage of just because the rest of the ton thinks she is a strange and quiet wallflower. The praise Percy is receiving belongs to Marjorie.”
“Well,” his mother said, “if that is how you feel...”
Alfie marched out of the room. “Goodbye, Mother.”
He wouldn’t waste his time any longer. He stood at the front of the carriage in the drive, collapsing his hands onto his knees and steadying his breath even when he felt as though he might be sick.
His valet handed him a small vial. “Try this, Your Grace. It will help.”
Alfie stood up, glancing at his valet. “Help with what?”
“Your nerves, Your Grace.”
He grabbed it from his valet, not caring about what others would say, only that he knew he must reach Marjorie. And soon.
Alfie would stand beside her to ensure she received the recognition she deserved because, above all else, he was proud of her. She didn’t deserve to be silenced, or pushed aside, or disregarded as a scandal because of her parents and their occupation. She was not something to be lumped into a group. She had worth all her own.
He grabbed the vial and tossed it back before jumping into the carriage and slamming his eyes shut, fighting back the waves of nausea as that day returned—the memory of his own carriage accident and the painful months of recovery which followed.
He would reach Marjorie. No matter what.
CHAPTER 11
October blew into London in a cold, dark rush.
Marjorie glanced up at the sky before darting out of her carriage, fearful the storm clouds would unleash a driving rain down upon her.
She couldn’t meet Percy looking utterly bedraggled.
Her lady’s maid followed quickly behind as she knocked on the door of Percy’s London home and waited. If his mother or sister answered, she was sure to be sucked into staying for tea, and she wanted to make this as brief as possible.
Finally, the door cracked open to reveal the stodgy butler, Herbert. “Yes, Miss Merryweather?”
“Yes, good afternoon.” The first fat raindrop struck the side of her face. She sputtered, surprised, then wiped it away. “I’m here to see Lord Chadwick. I will make it brief.”
“He is not interested in seeing you.”
Oh? She had feared that as well. “Is he home?” she pressed.
Unfettered, the butler blinked slowly. “He will not see you. He has a previous engagement.”
“Miss,” her lady’s maid leaned in to whisper. “The viscount is there in the window.”
Marjorie whipped around to see the curtains fluttering.
The blackguard!
“Now listen, Herbert. I understand you have a job to do, but if you do not let me in, heaven?—”
“For Christ’s sake, Marjorie,” the viscount whined from behind the door. “A touch dramatic, don’t you think?”
