Chapter Thirteen

"This was a terrible mistake," Alice muttered to herself.

The sun was shining. That was supposed to be a good sign, wasn't it?

But how could she even countenance the weather when everything in her life was about to fall apart?

"Ah, Miss Fox-Edwards," said a quiet voice behind her. "I can't believe it. You're actually going through with it."

If only she had stepped into the church. If only she had not loitered, trying to breathe in slowly to calm herself. If only she had not been tempted to look up at the church with a happy smile, hardly able to believe it.

Perhaps if she had not done those things, she would not be here, standing outside the church, looking into the eyes of...

"Mr. Shenton," Alice said softly.

She should have known. He wouldn't permit her to escape him, he never would. There was too much power involved, too much control.

And how Mr. Shenton loved control.

A slow smirk crept across the man's face. "I didn't think you had it in you."

Alice did her best to inhale deeply and lift her chin. "I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do," Mr. Shenton said softly as carriages rattled by behind him and passersby glanced at them standing outside the church. "I told you that you'd never be free of me until you married, but I never thought you would take me so seriously. I never thought you would actually find some fool—"

"William is not a fool!" Alice said furiously, then clasped a hand over her mouth.

Her bouquet hung by her side in her other hand. A bouquet she would not need now. Not now her extortioner, her blackmailer, had turned up at her own wedding.

Mr. Shenton's dark expression flickered. "Ah, William, is it? Yes, I saw the announcement. It reached me even in Brighton. Well played, Alice."

"That's Miss Fox-Edwards to you," she said as bravely as she could manage.

His gaze flashed as he caught her in the lie. "You haven't told him, have you?"

She had expected fear to flood through her veins if she ever saw him again. She had expected to freeze, to be utterly unsure what to do. To have all the wind taken from her sails.

She had not expected Mr. Shenton to actually come to London.

To stop the wedding.

"William knows me," Alice said quietly.

"But he doesn't, does he?" Mr. Shenton pressed. "You haven't been completely honest with him, have you? You can't have. No man who knows the truth of who you are, what you are, what you've done, would even consider—"

"I have done nothing wrong."

It was more than she could bear. After everything she had tried to leave behind, after she had attempted to build a new life, escape Mr. Shenton...

William was in there. Poor, innocent William.

He had proposed to her under false pretenses. If she were half the person he thought she was, she would call this off. Tell him the truth. Tell him she could not marry him.

Free him from her.

A part of her ached for him, loved him. But it was not something she could tell him. Alice knew William saw their marriage as much a part of his duty as a duke as anything else. He liked her. Cared for her. Desired her.

But it wasn't the same thing as love.

Mr. Shenton was still speaking. "—should go in there and inform His Grace—"

"No," said Alice with a firmness she had not expected.

The man frowned, a dangerous look flickering in his eyes. "No? What do you mean, no?"

But she'd had enough. Years of fear, years of payments that bought silence which she knew could only last so long. Years of wondering when it would all come crashing down around her. Years of protecting Maude and fearing one day her protection would not be enough.

It ended here. It ended today. It ended now.

"I am now under the Duke of Cothrom's protection," Alice said quietly, though her voice no longer quavered. "He is about to become my husband, and I will be his wife—his wife, Mr. Shenton. Our... our arrangement, for want of a better word, is over. You cannot hurt me anymore."

You cannot hurt me anymore.

Relief soared through her as Alice spoke those words. She could hardly believe it, but it was the truth. Once she was married, there would be nothing Mr. Shenton—or William—could do to harm her. William would never divorce her, and Mr. Shenton would have his money. He would no longer be able to reach her.

And clearly Mr. Shenton saw that. His scowl was dark, ill-tempered, and accompanied by the words, "You think you're so clever, don't you?"

"I have outsmarted you," Alice said bluntly, fingers tightening painfully around the ribbon of her bouquet. "Now if you do not mind, I have a wedding to attend, to partake in."

For a moment she really thought Mr. Shenton would do his worst. Step into the church, disrupt the wedding, make it impossible for her to be happy.

Tell William of her true past.

But with a sneer worthy of the greatest actor on the stage, Mr. Shenton inclined his head and swept away along the London street.

Alice leaned against the church wall, hardly sure how she was still standing.

It was just as she had feared, when she had discovered William had put the announcement of their engagement in the newspaper. But the worst had happened, and she was still here. Still standing.

She had not slept all night. What bride slept well the night before their wedding?

Alice had seen the evidence of her poor night's sleep in the looking glass that morning. The bags under her eyes were almost large enough to fit her wedding trousseau, and there was a pallor to her skin that was certainly not her best. No matter what Jane attempted, there was no number of potions or lotions could transform her skin.

But she was here. All she had to do was step through those doors.

"Well then, Alice Fox-Edwards," she murmured to herself, straightening and taking a deep breath, "time to get married."

The door was heavy. If her father had lived, if she'd had a brother, it would have been a gentleman at her side who would have opened the doors, but as it was, she was alone.

The creaking scrape of the door echoed through the church, mingling with the organ music which changed almost immediately.

The church was packed. Eyes whirled around to stare, muttering flowing through the nave like water, but Alice did not care about that. She was not interested in what the ladies of the ton thought of her gown or what the gentlemen of Society thought about her appearance.

Her gaze was fixed on one thing.

William.

And he was smiling. Joy that was most unexpected flowed through her, a joy Alice did not deserve.

After everything she had been through, all she had suffered, all she had struggled through—marriage to a duke? Not something she could have ever predicted.

As her legs slowly moved her up the aisle, faces turning to follow her like sunflowers adoring the sun, Alice did not take her eyes from William. His smile strengthened her, making it possible to take each step.

And it was a relief, finally, to reach him and have her hand be taken in his.

The moment of connection between them sparked heat which flowed to her very core. Alice looked into the eyes of the man she was about to marry, and was relieved to discover her affection for him was...

It was love.

She had not expected it. Could not have predicted it. There was no thought of love when she had arrived in London to find a husband. Love was not a secondary consideration, or a third. It was not something she could have hoped for.

Yet despite all her scheming, all her plans, she had not just hooked a husband. She had found a man who was brave and intelligent, fiercely protective, with a deep desire for connection.

And who kissed like the devil.

Who could wish for more?

After all her conniving, all her hopes, Alice was marrying for love.

"I've been waiting for you," William said suddenly, as though the words had pushed themselves from his lips.

Alice squeezed William's hand, hoping some of what she felt could be communicated through that simple gesture. "I know," she said softly. "But I'm here now. I'll always be here."

That was all she wanted, wasn't it? Someone always beside her, supporting her, ready to listen to her and be heard in turn. A partner.

William's smile was gentle, as it always was. "You know, a part of me thought you would never get here."

Alice tried not to laugh, conscious that the echo in the church would make it immediately obvious to every guest there. "You know, neither did I."

"Ahem," said a third voice.

She turned to see the stern face of a man wearing a reverend's collar.

"Now you two have finally arrived and you seem to be done with your chitchat," the vicar said peevishly, "do you mind if I cut in and marry you?"

William squeezed Alice's hand and she felt his mirth, even though he managed to control his face and look seriously at the older man. "Of course, sir. Thank you."

The vicar sniffed, though was a tad mollified by being spoken to so respectfully by a duke. Even if that duke had been so rude in the first place.

"Dearly beloved," he said loudly, scowling at the congregation as though it was a great outrage to have so many people cluttering up his church. "We are gathered here today..."

More words were spoken. Alice was almost certain they were, she could hear them echoing around the columns and under the archways. But it was difficult to pay attention. Standing beside a handsome duke holding her hand, gently rubbing his thumb along her own, was distracting.

The smoothness of his thumb was intoxicating—and so was the memory that it was that thumb which had teased such unexpected pleasure as it had grazed across her—

"My lady?"

Alice started. Both the vicar and William were staring. "I-I beg your pardon?"

The vicar's frown deepened. "Impediments. There aren't any, I presume?"

She swallowed. "None whatsoever."

It was not a complete lie. It didn't reveal the truth, certainly, but Alice was hardly going to announce that to all and sundry in the middle of a wedding. Her wedding.

"And you, William Thomas Leopold Chance, Duke of Cothrom," intoned the vicar, turning to the man beside her. "Do you know of any reason..."

Alice could not help but glance up at her future husband through her eyelashes. It had all been so sudden—though she supposed that was the way nobility got married. Arrangements were made, fathers and brothers shook hands, and a wedding was organized for a few weeks' time.

Easy as that.

But this? This was hardly easy. She was marrying a duke under false pretenses!

Suddenly the lack of noise hit Alice's ears like she had dropped into water. She blinked. Again, both William and the vicar were looking at her.

Alice smiled weakly. "Would... would you mind repeating that?"

Thankfully William appeared to be taking her lack of concentration as nerves. Which perhaps it was. Alice certainly couldn't understand why it was so difficult to pay attention when her very future was being decided.

". . . to have and to hold, from this day forward . . ."

". . . for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer . . ."

". . . in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish . . ."

"...till death us do part, according to God's holy law."

Alice swallowed. "In the presence of God, I make this vow."

And it was over. Done. Finished.

With a few simple words and a few signatures on a piece of paper, Alice took William's arm and knew that now, everything was different.

She wasn't just holding the arm of a gentleman. Or a duke. He was her husband.

Organ music poured through the pipes and with a start, Alice was pulled forward by William as he strode purposefully down the aisle. The congregation smiled and murmured congratulations, some bowing and curtsying, some just inclining their heads.

Lady Romeril sniffed as they passed. "So late!"

Then they were out in the sunshine, glaring after the darkness of the church. Alice blinked against the blinding light and before she could regain her sight—

"William!" she gasped.

He left her little time—or breath—to say anything else. Before anyone had left the church, before they could be discovered, William had pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

And this kiss was most unlike all the others which had preceded it.

Oh, it was still William. His touch, the scent of him, all cedarwood and masculinity and something else that was just William which Alice had not yet deciphered. It was the same passion, the same need to be close to her, the same heady concoction of desire and affection Alice so adored.

But it was still different. Reverential, and possessive, and... and more.

The kiss was over before it had truly begun, and when Alice blinked up with hazy eyes, it was to see William flushing.

"Sorry," he said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Probably not appropriate, but I admit, I couldn't help—"

Alice did not permit him to finish the question.

This was her husband—her savior, though he did not know it.

This kiss was achingly sweet, her fingers clinging onto him as though she was about to be wrenched from his arms. She loved him, and though she had not yet the bravery to say the words aloud, perhaps her lips could do the talking for her.

When Alice finally released him, William was flushing all the more.

"Damn—I mean, goodness," he said, glancing at the church behind her with an apologetic expression. "I'm glad we were able to move the wedding forward."

Alice grinned as she entwined her fingers in his. "As am I."

Wedding guests were starting to pour from the church, and her hopes sank at the realization that she would have to greet each and every one of them at the reception. Aylesbury had offered to host it, apparently, as Alice's lodgings were simply insufficient to host such a great number of people, but William had insisted. It was his bride. His reception. He would host.

The pavement was swiftly filling up with guests, but just as Alice was steeling herself to start speaking to them, William groaned.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, it's just—"

"There she is! We thought we were going to have to announce to the masses that our dear boy had been left at the altar," came a cheerful voice from behind her.

A smile crept across Alice's face as she turned to see the Marquess of Aylesbury grinning with the Earl of Lindow beside him—and the Viscount Pernrith behind them.

"I do apologize for my tardiness, I am sure," she said with a laugh. "But it is a bride's prerogative, after all, to keep her husband waiting."

"You kept him waiting far too long, I commend you," the Earl of Lindow said with a giggle. "He was sweating away—"

"I was not sweating," William assured Alice with a frown at his brother.

"He even asked me if I had a horse ready for his escape," added the Marquess of Aylesbury happily.

"I asked no such—"

"He was concerned, I think, that you had changed your mind," came the quiet voice of the viscount. "I am glad to welcome you into the family, Alice."

And Alice's heart swelled.

The family.

It was more than she could have dreamt. Having a brother-in-law she could trust, that only wanted the best for her, was more than most women could hope for.

And she had three.

"Thank you, all of you," she said demurely, seeing the other wedding guests holding back while the three Chance brothers congratulated them. "And I must especially thank you, my lord, for the recommendation on the color of my gown."

She had not expected her words to cause such consternation, but Alice watched in surprise as not only the marquess and the earl, but her own husband stared at Pernrith in shock.

"You—you told her to wear the Cothrom russet?" William said quietly.

Pernrith shifted on his feet. "Well, I knew I was going to offer you Father's waistcoat, as soon as I could find it, and I thought—"

"That was... that was well done," said the earl stiffly.

Alice's pulse skipped a beat as she looked between them. Oh, if their marriage, their wedding could bring a new closeness between the brothers—

"I am just sorry you have to put up with all four of us Chance boys on what is meant to be such a pleasant day," said the Marquess of Aylesbury, winking. "I didn't see your family in there, were they unable to come?"

And just as rapidly, her boldness disappeared. Her family...

William squeezed her hand.

"Unfortunately, Alice has been left alone in the world due to the passing of her parents," he said quietly. "But not anymore."

Alice tried to nod, show him without speaking just how much his words meant to her. Even if they were not entirely accurate.

"I've just had a thought," said William suddenly, turning to Alice. "Oh, blast, I wish I'd thought of it before!"

"You always were slow, Cothrom," said the Earl of Lindow sardonically.

He was nudged, what appeared to be painfully, in the ribs by the marquess. "How can you say that to the blighter, on the man's wedding day!"

"You say it all the time!" protested the earl, rubbing his chest.

The Marquess of Aylesbury rolled his eyes. "Yes, behind his back! We don't tell the man—"

"Alice," William said urgently.

Alice dragged her attention away from the brothers—who were most entertaining—to look at her betrothed.

No. To look at her husband.

"Alice, I've just had the most marvelous idea," William said urgently. "I'm a fool not for thinking of it before the wedding, but there it is. You don't have to be alone!"

Alice waited, but it appeared the duke had nothing else to say. "Alone? William, I'll be with you, we—"

"No, we could bring your ward—how old did you say she is? Maude, wasn't it?"

And her heart stopped beating.

She could not have heard that correctly. That wasn't right—she was dreaming. Perhaps she had fallen asleep in church, listening to the vicar's long, dull sermon, and she was dreaming? Nothing else could explain this. How else could she be gazing up in the sunshine at a handsome duke who was beaming, suggesting her daughter—her Maude—

"She... she is but three years old," Alice managed to say. "Maude."

"Excellent," said William with a contented look. "She'll give us some time to practice, before our family."

There was ringing in Alice's ears. She could not be hearing him properly—she was most definitely dreaming. She had to be.

"I... I am sorry, William, I think I..." Her voice trailed away as the bickering of his brothers continued to her left. But she had to ask, to ensure she understood precisely what he meant. "Do you mean you wish for—for Maude to—"

"She should come and live with us," said William firmly. "As you said, she is your responsibility, and now you have a home in which to welcome her. Why should a child live apart from you if you have affection for them? She'll be part of our family."

Alice let out a muffled sob, clasping a hand to her mouth to prevent anything further as her eyes sparkled with tears.

It was too much. It was better than she could have ever hoped for—greater than she could have dreamed. All her plans for sending Mrs. Seaby her pin money so Maude could be cared for properly, all the economies Alice had been prepared to make to safeguard enough...

It was over.

"Oh, William!"

Alice launched herself into William's arms and kissed him hard on the mouth.

"Oh, I say!"

"Dear God, maybe it's a good thing we rushed this wedding!"

"Is that even legal?"

Alice ignored the exclamations of her three new brothers-in-law and poured all her gratitude, all her affection into the kiss.

And William responded, his hands tightening on her waist, his tongue teasing along her bottom lip, shooting fiery heat through her. His breathing was heavy, his need for her dark, and Alice knew she would never—

"Outrageous behavior!" came the voice of Lady Romeril.

William broke the kiss. When Alice blinked and attempted to come to her senses, she could see why.

Lady Romeril was whacking the Duke of Cothrom with a reticule. "Put that woman down!"

"She is my wife, Lady Romeril," William pointed out wryly, his cheeks tinged pink.

"That's no cause for kissing in public!" Lady Romeril retorted. "Honestly! Young people these days—I would never have dreamed of such a thing! When I was your age..."

She muttered on as she stepped into a carriage, tapping the roof before it jolted away.

Alice swallowed. Well, it was not the most auspicious start. William offers her the only desire she her heart truly wants, and she embarrasses him in just the way she knows he hates.

"I apologize," she said stiffly, smoothing her gown with her fingers. "For making a scene, Your Grace."

She had expected William to acknowledge the apology with a curt nod, perhaps a small word of apology of his own.

What she had not expected was a wide grin to creep across William's face, even though his cheeks remained a dark pink. "With you in my arms, Alice Chance," he said quietly, "I find I just don't care."