Page 46 of A Feud with the Duke

“His actions were the cause of the lady concerned to be driven to take her own life,” Simon grated.

Hastings looked to Harold who remained silent. “Well, man? You will not defend yourself?”

“Of course he won’t. There is no defense he can offer,” Simon scoffed.

“I owe no explanation to him, nor anyone else,” Harold replied.

“This is not time for prideful behavior, Redwood. You have been accused of some terrible crimes. Your silence may be taken as an admission of guilt by a magistrate.”

“If it comes to a magistrate, I will explain the truth of things. But, I will not behave as though I stand in the accused box with this oaf as judge. Now, I apologize to you Hastings for the disruption caused to your affair. I will say only that there is a grudge born by the House of Lindley against the House of Redwood and give you my word as an officer and a gentleman that it is none of my doing.”

“These events took place recently?” Hastings asked, running a hand across his chin.

“Four years ago,” Simon replied.

“Before the death of your father then,” Hastings said to Harold.

“Yes, is that relevant?”

“I remember the man you were before you took on the mantle of Duke. A fine soldier, as fine as any I have commanded. But headstrong and quick to anger.”

“War ages a man. As does the inheritance of the responsibility of a Dukedom,” Harold replied.

He was still seated, while Simon had commenced pacing the room. Harold had observed that the man found it difficult to control his emotions, frequently giving vent to them physically. For himself, the situation had him as tense as a coiled spring. He prayed that there would be no further outbursts from Simon. Each one threatened the spring to break free from Harold’s grip.

“It seems to me that there is bad blood between you. Whatever the cause. Harold, I suggest you leave immediately after speaking to the constable…”

“I will see him taken into custody,” Simon said.

“No, you will not,” Hastings replied. “I will vouch for him and see that he is free to go on his own cognizance. I have some influence at Bow Street. I will not see a fellow officer disgraced.”

Bless you, Hastings. You were a good commander and I’m glad of your honor and common sense now.

Harold stood. “Thank you, Hastings. That is most appreciated. I will await the constables in another room, I think. You have somewhere private, no doubt?”

“No. I won’t allow you to get away with what you’ve done simply because of your rank,” Simon spat, striding across the room to Harold.

Before Harold could react, Simon slapped him across the face. Harold’s head did not move, his eyes never leaving Simon’s. The sound of the slap brought silence to the room, broken only by the cracking of firewood.

“I challenge you to a duel for the defamation of my sister’s name and honor. I demand satisfaction,” Simon said.

Harold’s grip slipped from the spring that was his temper. His lips parted to reveal bared teeth.

“I accept,” he said.

CHAPTER28

Alice despaired. She was a prisoner at the altar of the small chapel that stood on the grounds of Lindley Manor. Simon stood beside her, a jailer. Ruth stood on the other. She looked over her shoulder, through the white gauze of the veil. The chapel was full but none of the shapes occupying the pews was clear. They were shadows, faceless and hidden by the deep gloom that filled the cold, stone building. Seated in the closest pews, two of those shadows revealed themselves to be her mother and father.

That didn’t make sense. Her father should be the one giving her away, not Simon. And if this was her wedding, she should be walking down the aisle with her father, the groom standing at the altar waiting. But there was no sign of a groom. None of this stopped the fear that gripped her. Despite the anomalies, she knew she was here to be married. That she had no choice in this was also a given. Perhaps, Simon was giving her away because it was he who was insisting on the marriage taking place.

He was looking at a pocket watch, as though impatient for something. Alice knew what it was. Incongruously, in one corner of the church, a tall, grandfather clock ticked, its sound ominously loud. She found herself breathing fast as the sound of footsteps reached her. Someone was approaching the door of the church from outside and she knew that with their approach it felt as though her time was running out.

She stepped away from the altar, shaking her head. Simon and Ruth stared at her, the disapproval clear on their faces. She could feel the eyes of her parents, equally disappointed in her, and wanted to scream.

“It’s not my time. I don’t want to be married. I want to live.”

The doors crashed open and Alice whirled, feeling as though her time had finally run out. But it was not the man she had expected, standing there framed by the ancient portal. It was Harold Clauder. As he strode towards her, the shadowy congregation began to cluster around him, as though to block his way. His tall, broad-shouldered figure cut through them, insubstantial as they were.

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