Page 5 of Married to the Forbidden Duke
“As though you are making a mistake,” Denshire said wryly, then shook his head and smiled. “But if you arecertainyou want to do this, then we should make our way to the church before we are late and the gossipmongers can spread more rumors of your unreliability.”
Frederick winced. Although he had done much to repair his reputation over the past few years, shunning all the vices that had led to his accident and turning over a new leaf, he knew better than anyone how quickly that could change. Hisreputation amongst thetonstill hovered on a knife’s edge. It would take very little to push it from one side to the other.
“Come,” he murmured. “If for nothing else but to save my reputation.”
CHAPTER THREE
Alice gripped the newspaper clipping in her hand, smudging the ink in her sweaty palms. She stared out of the window at the passing London streets, so much louder than she remembered.
When she’d first come here, as a girl of nineteen, everything had seemed so…exciting. Her father and mother had supported her curiosity and enthusiasm, allowing her more freedom than she now understood was proper. She had even, on occasion, gone riding in Hyde Park without a chaperone.
The rules were different in London. Ruin was always just around the corner—one misstep and it could find you.
With her leg, every step she took these days was a misstep.
But at least, even after a four-year absence, she was showing her face in London for a cause. So long as she wouldn’t be late.
Opposite her, Jenny sat with her hands on her lap, silently nervous. They’d hired chaise-and-four on the last leg of their journey, which gave them the freedom to arrive at the church directly, a necessity given Alice’s inability to walk far.
She gripped her walking stick as they approached the doors of the church, her heart flip-flopping in her chest. Nerves ran like raw lightning under her skin, and she forced herself to take several deep breaths as they finally came to a stop.
Outside the church, several ladies in beautiful gowns were gathered, empire waists lower than Alice remembered from her older days in London. She had almost enough time to consider that her dress was frightfully out of fashion before Jenny handed her down, and she approached the door of the magnificent building.
Head held high, she drew in a deep breath, then, without further ado, she threw it open with a crash.
The church was small. Dim. Heavy with the scent of old incense. A few ladies and gentlemen sat scattered in the pews, their whispers hushed.
And at the end of the aisle…
He stood.
As though nothing had ever been closer than right in his world.
The man who had stolen her future—bright, innocent, full of promise.
The villain of her life. Frederick Blackwell. Thedastardly Duke of Langford.
For a long moment, Alice simply glared at him.
She only had vague memories of him; he had visited briefly while she was recuperating, but she had been so lost after the deaths of her parents that she had barely recalled his appearance. And before then, of course, she had seen him occasionally in society. But they had moved in very different circles.
Now, her mind clear, she was finally at liberty to take him in. He had dark blond hair brushed back from his face, a sharp nose, full lips, and a dimple on his chin as he smiled. Hesmiled. This was not a man whose back was broken from the guilt of what he had done. If he’d shown remorse, she might have been able to forgive him, but he was so far from remorse as to be happy and moving on.
Resentment rose in her chest, reminding her of her intention. She was going to ruin him one way or another.
“You,” she announced as she lurched her way down the aisle, the wood of her stick biting into her underarm. “Howdareyou!”
The smile on his face faded as he turned to look at her. And then—the realization burned when confusion flitted across his face.She had every idea who he was; she had been following his fate for years, scanning newspapers and scandal sheets to discover every last thing she could about him.
And here he was, not only marrying a beautiful lady… but oblivious as to whoshewas.
He had come to visit her, to offer her a strangled apology. Despite her vague recollections of that time, she still recalled the tangled glory of his dirty blond hair, the pride in his strong features. The moment she stepped into the church, she had recognized him. She could confidently say, she would have recognized him anywhere.
Yet, he had the indecency to appear… confused?
“How could you!” she hissed when she reached the carpeted steps he stood on. He blinked down at her, and she ignored the growing whispers behind her, the outrage on the expression of the reverend. All she could think about was the simmering fury in her veins.
“How could you even consider being happy when you ruined my life the way you did? How could you imagine it was fair to stand here and marry Lady Penelope when you carry the weight of murder on your soul? Where is your penance!”
