Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

“ Y our Grace, I truly cannot thank you enough for everything,” Tristan spoke with a genuine smile as he clasped Alistair’s hand firmly. The morning sun cast a golden hue over the snow-covered Holloway estate.

Alistair’s smile was of equal warmth, his dark hair tousled by the gentle breeze. “It was a pleasure, truly. It gladdens me that our families truly bonded during your stay.”

He glanced around at their gathered families, the laughter and chatter creating a bittersweet symphony in the air.

His heart was heavy as he turned his gaze toward Cecilia. She stood a few paces away, the way she smiled filling him with an indescribable ache, knowing this might be their last moment together for a while.

“I shall miss you so much, dearest Cece,” Evie spoke, her voice quivering slightly as she wrapped her arms tightly around her friend.

Cecilia chuckled softly, trying to lighten the moment. “Oh, there is nothing to worry! I shall still come around for all the wedding preparations. I wouldn’t miss that for the world!”

Evie pulled back slightly, looking into Cecilia's eyes, searching for reassurance. “It’s just… it won’t be the same without you here every day. Everything feels different already.”

Cecilia’s smile faltered for just a moment. I t felt as though there was a weight behind Evie’s words. “I know what you mean,” Cecilia replied, her voice softer now.

Evie nodded, “But you promise to keep in touch, right? No matter what?”

“I’m not gone yet, Evie, we have the weeks before your wedding,” Cecilia laughed then assured her, squeezing Evie’s hands tightly, “Always,” As they embraced once more, the warmth of their connection echoed, and Alistair pulled his eyes away.

The dowager duchess’s tone was light as she smiled at the Evertons, “It truly was a wonderful time. Hopefully, our families shall get to spend more time and adventures ahead.”

“Adventures? What adventures?” the dowager countess interjected, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion, “I thought we were just going to the market!”

A ripple of chuckles erupted among the group and as they continued to exchange final hugs and warm embraces, Alistair found himself caught in a whirlwind of emotions. He stepped closer to Cecilia, his heart racing, unsure of how to say goodbye. Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, everyone else seemed to disappear.

“Your Grace,” Nathaniel approached, pulling Alistair’s attention momentarily, his grip firm as he shook Alistair’s hand, “We shall meet again in a few weeks.”

“Indeed,” Alistair’s tone was half-hearted as his gaze remained fixed behind the man.

As soon as Nathaniel stepped aside, he moved to Cecilia, who stood a few paces away, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. The air between them felt heavy, charged with unspoken words and lingering glances.

“Miss Everton,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes held so much emotion, and for a second, it felt like she was struggling with what to say. Alistair felt his heart race, longing to say everything he had kept bottled up inside.

“It was a pleasure to get to know you,” he finally managed, the words tasting bittersweet on his tongue.

“And you too, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice a whisper as well.

A silence hung heavily between them. Alistair could feel the eyes of Evie and Nathaniel standing a few feet away on them, sensing the awkwardness that had enveloped the yard. Then with one last lingering look, Cecilia flushed lightly and turned around, moving to stand by her elder brother by the carriage.

The group continued into an uneasy silence. Then, at last, Nathaniel, trying to lighten the mood, let out an awkward laugh. “Well, I suppose we should take our leave now.”

The Evertons exchanged quick smiles with Alistair’s family before climbing into their carriage. Alistair watched with a heavy heart, feeling as though a part of him was leaving with them.

“Goodbye, Cecilia!” Evie called out, waving with a forced cheerfulness that only highlighted the somber atmosphere.

Alistair stood there, feeling utterly broken as the carriage rolled away, the sound of wheels on cobblestones echoing in his mind. He watched his mother and sister wave slowly, unable to move his hand as well, his heart aching terribly.

He turned sharply, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on his shoulders. He felt as if the world around him had dimmed, the bright whites of the garden now muted and dull.

With each step toward the door, he fought against the tide of emotions threatening to drown him. His thoughts were a mess as he headed straight for his study, pushing through the threshold, the familiar scent of polished wood and aged books welcoming him.

He intended to lock himself away, burying his thoughts beneath a mountain of estate matters and paperwork. Yet, as he settled into his chair, the quill poised between his fingers, his mind betrayed him.

The image of Cecilia lingered, her laughter echoing in his ears, the way her soft skin sparkled in the sunlight, and the warmth of her smile igniting something deep within him.

It would never have worked out.

Forget about her.

Alistair struggled to convince himself that this was the right decision. He told himself that their paths were never meant to intertwine in that way, that she already believed herself to belong to someone else, or perhaps to no one at all. He wouldn’t blame her; after all, he was merely a man bound by duty and obligation.

Perhaps I could never truly give her what she wants.

Yet, the memories tugged at him, unrelenting. Her eyes, those expressive hazel pools, sometimes hinted at a deeper connection, a flicker of something more profound that he dared not interpret.

As he sat there, the quill slipping from his grasp, he felt a deep ache in his chest. It was a pain he had never known before, a longing so intense it made his breath hitch. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to rise, to run after the carriage, to pour out his heart, to tell her that she was the sun in his otherwise shadowed life. The thought of her leaving, of her being out of reach, struck him like a physical blow.

Alistair leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his tousled dark hair, frustration boiling within him. How could he have let her slip away? The realization of his love for her crashed over him like a wave, relentless and consuming.

He closed his eyes, envisioning her radiant smile, the way she lit up a room, and the moments they shared that now felt like distant dreams. How would he navigate this existence, filled with the echoes of what could have been?

The thought alone sent a shiver down his spine, and he opened his eyes to the empty room, feeling more alone than ever before laying his head to rest.

Seconds passed before a sudden knock sounded on the study door, sharp and urgent. Alistair lifted his head from the cool surface of his desk, blinking away the haze of his thoughts.

“Whoever it is, go away. I must be alone for some days,” His tone was weary, laced with frustration as he rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the remnants of his melancholy.

Silence followed, and he let out a breath, glad for the solitude once more. However, just as he began to sink back into his swirling thoughts, another knock echoed through the room. This time, it was accompanied by Evie’s determined voice. “Brother, it is urgent.”

Alistair hesitated, the weight of indecision pulling at him. The last thing he wanted was to face a possible relentless probing when his heart was already heavy. But he straightened up, steeling himself. “Come in,” he finally called out.

The door swung open, and Evie strode in with an intensity that caught him off guard. Her green eyes sparkled with a mix of concern and indignation as she approached his desk, her footsteps echoing in the otherwise quiet study.

“Is something the matter?” Alistair asked, raising an eyebrow at the fierce expression etched across her features. He leaned back in his chair, trying to project an air of nonchalance, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

“Why didn’t you stop Cecilia from leaving?” she demanded, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, her tone heavily accusatory.

Alistair feigned ignorance, shrugging slightly. “I don’t see why I would. What sort of question is that?”

Evie scoffed, her hands dropping to the table, palms flat against the polished wood. “You’re not one to play coy, Your Grace. I can see it in your eyes—you and Cecilia are in love, and you acted like a coward, letting her leave without doing anything about it.”

Her sharp words pierced through the study, and all went silent, the truth of her statement settling heavily in the room. Alistair felt exposed under her gaze, as if she could see straight through the facade he had carefully constructed.

He had never had his sister much less anyone speak to him in this manner. Surprisingly, it did not fill him with rage. He no longer had any fight in him. The weight pressed down on him, and he looked away, unable to meet her fierce stare.

Perhaps I am.

“Brother! You need to do something!” Evie’s voice sliced through the silence again, filled with urgency. “Please, don’t give up like this!”

Alistair stared at her, caught off guard by the fierce intensity of her gaze. Her dark hair framed her face, a stark contrast to the soft floral dress she wore. Despite the frustration etched on her features, he could see the concern lurking just beneath the surface.

He couldn’t help but smile, a flicker of warmth breaking through his melancholy. “You’ve changed, little sister. The Evertons have really affected you,” he paused, “You’re more open now.”

Evie’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned in closer, her expression unwavering. “That’s all well and good, but what are you going to do about this situation? You have to go after Cecilia!”

Alistair shook his head slowly, the weight of her words settling heavily on his shoulders. “You’re wrong about one thing, sister. Cecilia doesn’t love me.” To his surprise, his voice cracked slightly as he spoke, revealing the vulnerability he had been trying to suppress. “It’d be foolish to try anything. Even if I had to make her fall for me, I do not know where to start.”

Evie’s features softened, but her resolve remained. “For a man so powerful and intelligent, you’re incredibly dense about matters of the heart,” she quipped, a teasing lilt in her voice that belied the seriousness of the situation.

Alistair winced, narrowing his eyes at her bluntness. He wasn’t used to this side of his sister, and it threw him off balance. He opened his mouth to respond, but she pressed on, her tone urgent.

“Cecilia is leaving for Scotland soon, Alistair. If you do nothing now, you’ll live the rest of your life heartbroken, knowing you never even tried.”

The world seemed to stop at Evangeline’s words.

No.

No, it can’t be true.

Alistair sprang to his feet. Feeling a knot forming in his stomach, his head felt heavy as though he would collapse from the information. He moved his feet forward to stand in front of his sister, running a hand through his tousled hair frantically.

“Is this true?” Alistair’s voice trembled, barely above a whisper, as he searched his sister’s face for any sign of reassurance. “Sister, tell me. Is Cecilia moving to Scotland for good?”

Evie’s expression was grave, her brow furrowed with concern. “Yes, she leaves after my wedding. Brother, if you do not-”

Before she could finish her sentence, panic surged through him. Alistair shot up from his chair, the wood creaking beneath him as he bolted from the study. His heart raced, pounding against his ribcage like a caged beast desperate to escape.

The walls of the mansion blurred as he sprinted down the hall, his mind racing with thoughts of Cecilia and the life that could slip away if he didn’t act fast.

“Your Grace?” As he dashed past, he caught a glimpse of his mother, her eyes wide with surprise and confusion. “Alistair! Where are you going?” she called out, her voice laced with worry. But he didn’t slow down; he couldn’t afford to waste a second.

“Get me my horse!” he bellowed at the startled servants waiting outside. His voice echoed in the air, a mixture of urgency and desperation. “Quickly!”

The servants sprang into action, their movements a flurry of activity as they rushed to comply. Alistair paced back and forth, his fingers twitching with anticipation.

What if I’m late? What if her mind is made up? I cannot let her leave. I cannot bear the thought of her so far away. I-

“Alistair, stop!” Lydia’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, slicing through the chaos of the moment. He turned, his heart pounding in his chest, a storm of emotions swirling within him.

His mother stood there, her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun as always, her features set in a mask of concern.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, stepping closer, her eyes narrowing as she took in his frantic demeanor. Suddenly, a realization flashed behind her eyes. “No, no you can not.”

Alistair could feel the tension crackling in the air between them as though it was physical. “No, what?” he shot back, his voice laced with defiance. The fire in his chest flared as he met her gaze, his brow furrowing in frustration.

“You cannot go after Miss Everton,” Lydia said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “She is a lovely lady, but she is not meant for you.”

“And who sets these rules, mother? Tell me! Why can I not?” All the years of straining for perfection poured out, Alistair’s hands balling into fists at his sides as he exclaimed. “She’s leaving! I can’t just let her go!”

“Romance is not destined for you or Cecilia, Your Grace,” Lydia said, her voice steady despite the rise in her tone. “You have responsibilities. You must understand that.”

Alistair’s jaw clenched, his pulse racing with each word. “I’ve spent my whole life caring for others, fulfilling my duty! But what about my happiness? What about what I want, dowager?” His voice rose, fueled by a mix of desperation and anger.

“This is what you should do, Alistair, I have told you as it’s supposed to be” Lydia replied, her tone curt. “You must accept your future, your title. You must-”

“What I have to do,” Alistair interrupted with a chuckle, feeling freer than ever despite his heart pounding like a war drum, “is stop my future duchess from leaving.”

Lydia’s expression hardened further, the lines of her face tightening as she fought to maintain her composure. “Your Grace.”

In that moment, something powerful surged within him, a realization that he could no longer ignore. “Mother, I love her!” he declared, the words spilling out in a rush.

“I am a man, not your perfect puppet! And I won’t let you or anyone else dictate my actions nor quell my heart from now on!”

Lydia’s face was covered in shock, hurt filling her eyes. Yet, at that moment, the sound of hooves approaching signaled the servants’ arrival.

“Thank you!” Alistair called out, barely pausing to acknowledge the servant before he swung himself onto the saddle. Without waiting for his mother’s response, he turned, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

With a swift kick, he urged the stallion forward, racing into the wind, determined to catch up with Cecilia’s carriage, hoping with everything he had that it was too late to let her know;

He wanted to spend all of his life with her. He’d never been more sure of anything.