Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

D uncan stormed out, his mind a whirlwind of fury and disbelief. How could his own mother do that to him? Her words refused to leave his head. They echoed in his ears, and each word pierced him like a dagger. This was the biggest betrayal ever. He could hardly fathom the depth of her selfishness. Did she even realize the extent to which she had manipulated his life?

"Duncan, wait. Please, listen to me," Modesty called after him.

He spun around, his eyes blazing white. "Listen to you? Why should I, Mother? You have done nothing but manipulate me!"

Modesty's eyes filled with tears. Those silly tears that meant nothing. Duncan could not stand the sight of her. "I only wanted to protect you, to secure your future." Impossible! She was still going on about this! Was she that oblivious or just pretending not to know the gravity of what she had done?

"Protect me?" Duncan's voice rose, echoing through the hallway. "You have destroyed my trust. You have shattered the very foundation of my marriage! And you stand there and claim to protect me?"

Modesty took a step forward, her voice trembling. "I am so sorry, son."

"Don't you dare call me that! No mother would ever do that to her son."

"How can you say that to me, Duncan?!" Modesty shrieked. "I never meant for it to be Lucy. I had no idea she would be the one caught in that scandal."

Duncan clenched his fists, struggling to control his rage. He'd had enough of this charade. "It matters not who it was. Your actions have cost me a lot. But know this, Mother," he said, his voice growing cold and determined, "I will never leave Lucy. She is the only person I will never let go of."

Live apart from Lucy? The thought was unbearable. Inconceivable. He would rather die. He couldn't fathom it. He had come to cherish her. She had woven herself into the very fabric of his life. And now he couldn't see himself going through life without her.

Modesty's breath caught, her eyes widening in surprise. "What are you saying, Duncan? Surely you cannot mean that. There are other, more suitable matches?—"

He cut her off, his voice sharp as a blade. "No, Mother. Do not dare complete that sentence. Lucy is my wife. I will never let her go. I want you to know this."

Modesty's lips trembled, her eyes pleading. "Think of your future, of the family's legacy! Lucy is not suitable to bring the next heir. We cannot be affiliated with such a family. Can you not see that I am trying to help you?"

Duncan shook his head, his expression resolute. "My future is with Lucy. Our legacy is one I will build with her, not one dictated by your machinations. And I do not need your help. Not now, not ever. Let this be the last time you ever meddle in my affairs again."

"Duncan, please. I beg you to reconsider."

Modesty had turned to pleading. He was sorry he had not seen his mother for what she truly was. And he was sorry he had discovered it too late.

"There is nothing to reconsider," he said firmly. "I will return to Lucy, and I will make amends for the pain your actions have caused."

His mother's shoulders slumped. "I only ever wanted what was best for you." She reached out a trembling hand, but he recoiled, stepping back as if her touch might burn him.

"And I never asked you to do that."

"I never intended for it to be Lucy. I never knew–"

"Intentions be damned!"

Modesty's voice was barely a whisper. "I thought it was for the best. I was afraid of losing you, of you never settling down, of our family's name tarnished by your bachelorhood."

Duncan's gaze hardened, his jaw set in a firm line. "And in doing so, you almost cost me the one person who truly matters. Lucy is my wife. She is the only one I cannot let go of, the only one I can touch without seeing... without feeling..." He stopped, his breath catching in his throat.

Modesty stilled. "I do not understand, Duncan. What are you talking about?"

He breathed deeply. He needed all the strength he could muster. "Gertrude." It was too quiet. Even the fire stopped roaring. It was as if everything had stopped with that one word.

"What about your sister?" Modesty whispered, as if afraid to interrupt the silence.

"It is because of her. She is the reason I never take off my gloves." His heart clenched painfully.

"You're not making any sense, Duncan. What do you mean?" Modesty asked tentatively, as if afraid of what the answer may be.

Duncan's eyes were distant, haunted. "I was there, Mother. I held her in my arms as she took her last breath. I felt her life slip away, and I could do nothing to save her." And the memories flooded back, assaulting him with a vengeance.

His mother sucked in a sharp breath as she collapsed to the floor, sobbing. Duncan could do nothing but stare. He felt dead inside and had nothing to offer, not even sympathy.

"Oh no! My son. My poor child. You had to witness that. I am so sorry, Duncan. I should have been there. You should never have seen that. Oh Duncan, I am so sorry," Modesty sobbed.

"She died in my arms," Duncan whispered with vacant eyes, eyes that no longer saw anything around him. "She died in my arms, and I have never been the same. I could not save her."

Modesty gathered herself from the floor, moving to Duncan to hold him in her arms. But he stepped out of her reach. "You were but a child, son. There was nothing you could have done."

He shook his head, his voice thick with emotion. "I should have done something. I could have done something," Duncan wrestled with himself.

"No, Duncan. Don't do that to yourself, please."

"It haunts me. It has tormented me ever since. Every time I touch someone, I see her, over and over again, dying in my hands. I cannot hold physical contact without reliving that moment."

Modesty's heart broke for her son. "Oh, Duncan, how can I ease your pain? Tell me, son?"

He didn't answer, holding up a gloved hand instead. "These gloves…they are my shield. They keep the memories at bay. I wear them always, to avoid the touch that brings such pain."

Modesty took a tentative step closer. "And Lucy?"

Duncan's eyes softened at the mention of his wife. "Lucy is different. She is the only one I could ever touch, the only one I can touch without fear. The only one whose touch does not bring back the memories. She is my sanctuary, my solace," he concluded with a faraway look in his eyes. "This is something you must understand. Something you never considered in your schemes and plans."

Modesty looked at him, a new understanding dawning in her eyes. "Oh, Duncan, I am terribly sorry. I had no idea."

"No, you did not," he said bitterly. "Because I never spoke of it. I tried to bury it, to move on. But it haunts me, Mother."

"Why did you never tell me? You should have told me. You should have said something."

"It was not for you to know."

Modesty, her eyes filled with tears, reached out towards him, her voice trembling. "Please forgive me, son. I thought I was doing what was best for you."

"Don't you dare, Mother." His voice was way too controlled. "Don't you dare. I cannot fathom the depth of your betrayal. You have meddled in my life, in my marriage, without a thought for the consequences." No. This couldn't be right. It had to be a dream. His mother would not do such a thing. But a look at Modesty's tear-stained face was enough to tell him it was no dream.

"Duncan, please, I never meant to–"

"No, Mother," he cut her off sharply, his tone firm and resolute. "You have said enough. There is no excuse whatsoever for what you have done. You orchestrated a scandal, Mother. You brought Lucy, an innocent girl into all of this against her will."

Modesty's shoulders slumped, her words choked with regret. "I thought I was protecting you, ensuring your lineage did not end with you."

Duncan blazed with a fury he had never felt before. "Protecting me?" he spat, the words laced with venom. "Well, you thought wrong. And I never want to hear you say those words again. You thought of no one but yourself. You were selfish to the core."

"No, Duncan. I promise I was only thinking of your well-being. I swear on your father's grave," his mother's voice tinged with desperation now.

"You destroyed my trust, shattered my peace. You have done more harm than good. How could you?"

"I never knew, Duncan. I am so sorry."

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Sorry won't fix this, Mother. You have to understand—Lucy is my salvation. Without her, I am lost."

Modesty stepped back. "What can I do? How can I make this right?"

Duncan's eyes hardened. "You can do nothing. This is for me to fix."

"Son, please understand–"

"I understand perfectly," Duncan interrupted, realization dawning on him. "I understand that I must find Lucy. I must make things right."

He turned, striding towards the door, each step fueled by the urgency to reach his wife. As he grasped the latch, he paused, his voice low and determined. "I will never leave her. She is my heart, my life. And I will fight for her, no matter what."

"Duncan! Duncan!" His mother called, but he didn't stop. With that, he flung the door open and stepped out into the cool evening air. The carriage awaited, its driver standing by. Duncan climbed in, his thoughts consumed by the need to see Lucy, to hold her, to explain everything.

His thoughts raced. He had never gotten over his sister's death, wearing his gloves as a shield from it all.

But with Lucy, it was different. She was the one exception, the only one person who had broken through his defenses, who had shown him what it meant to love and be loved in return.

Love. Love? Duncan stopped in his tracks. Love! "I love her," he whispered to himself. "I love Lucy." Heavens! He loved her dearly. The thought had his chest racing. It had taken the threat of losing her to understand his feelings, to recognize that she was the center of his world. And now, he would do whatever it took to win her back, to show her the truth of his heart.

His mind was consumed by thoughts of Lucy—her smile, her laughter, the warmth of her touch. He needed her, now more than ever, and he would not rest until he found her, until he had the chance to make amends.

As the carriage pulled away from the estate, Duncan looked back one last time at the home that belonged to his mother. Things would never be the same. Wounds had been opened that might never fully heal. He didn't know if he would ever step foot in Scriven estate.

His mother had gone too far. But he wouldn't bother himself about that anymore. His future lay with Lucy, and he would fight for their love with every ounce of his being.

"I'm coming, Lucy," he vowed in his heart.

And with that, Duncan set off on his journey, his mind and heart focused on the woman who had saved him from himself.