Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

LIZZIE

O ur wedding day.

This wasn't happening.

Nothing had seemed real.

Everything around me was chaos.

Last night, after Richard had used my body in more ways than I could count and we both lay sated and spent in bed, I had asked him if he was kidding about it being our wedding tomorrow.

He wasn't.

After the incident at the dressmakers and based on some additional intelligence he received about the woman making the threats, who he still refused to discuss with me, he had decided it was safer for me if we married as soon as possible.

I wasn't sure how I felt about any of this. On one hand, I had a gorgeous, amazingly intense man who loved me with a passion and was so eager to make me his bride he moved mountains to make it happen as soon as possible. On the other hand, I had a man who technically never asked me to marry him. Thinking back, I was more told we were getting married and instead of involving me in any of the decisions, he had made them all… even to the point of not telling me our wedding date till the night before!

What really irked me was that all of his decisions were, of course, perfect, from the flowers, to the music, to my gown. I wouldn't change anything. Begrudgingly, I had to admit the man knew me inside and out.

Damn him.

He had also rightfully pointed out I would have probably found the entire process stressful and overwhelming with all the royal protocols that had to be followed. That was the problem with Richard. Whenever I had an issue with him, he always had an excellent reason, usually with my welfare in mind, as to why he acted or did something heavy-handed and domineering.

So here I was, staring at my reflection in an ancient oval mirror in some tucked away antechamber in Westminster Abbey, wondering how the hell I had gotten to this point.

The kaleidoscope spun.

I ran my hand down the silk bodice of my dress. It was a different one from that dreadful day of course but the dress design was still the same. There wasn't the usual fuss about hair and makeup you'd expect on a bride's wedding day since Richard insisted I keep a more natural, innocent look. My hair had been curled and piled loosely on top of my head. My makeup was done in simple pinks with only a little black eyeliner to define my lash line.

Instead of a diamond tiara, I wore a crown of orange blossoms with a simple tulle drape as the veil. Just like Queen Victoria. He had thought of everything.

Traditionally, the bride would arrive at the church by car or carriage and process into the abbey with a lot of fanfare, but Richard refused to allow it for safety reasons. I had been escorted into the church a few hours ago, literally under armed guard. My dressing room had two entrances, one into the church, the other into a hallway that led outside. Both of them were guarded by two men each. Richard wasn't taking any chances.

The woman who came in to do my hair chatted about what a scandal my wedding was causing. Despite my thinking it was an absolute chaotic circus, it was apparently a scandalously small, understated wedding for a man of Richard's prestige and standing. The fact that he was marrying me less than a month after we had announced our engagement and with fewer than two hundred guests in attendance had led to all sorts of speculation from pregnancy to Richard dying of a secret disease and wanting to secure his legacy.

None of them knew Richard… not like I did.

Despite his love of grand gestures and big surprises, which secretly I believed he loved only because it kept people off-balance and always guessing his intentions, Richard was a very private person. If he had truly had his way, we'd probably be getting married in the parlor of his estate followed by a simple wedding breakfast, as they had done in the Victorian era. Whether or not they realized it, Richard conceding to a wedding at Westminster with the queen in attendance was an enormous affair in his mind.

I turned at the discreet knock at the door.

As it opened, you could hear the blare of trumpets echoing around the hall.

The queen had arrived.

My stomach did a somersault.

I wished Richard was here to hold my hand and tell me everything would be okay. Because neither of our parents were still alive, I was being led down the aisle by some high-ranking aristocrat whom I had never met. The distance between now and that long aisle where Richard waited would feel like a football field. Especially with all those curious and judging eyes on me.

"Excuse me, Miss Elizabeth," said Mr. Simmons as he entered the room. "We are almost ready for you."

"Thank you, Mr. Simmons."

He turned to leave. "Oh, dear me, I almost forgot. I was told to give this to you. I'm terribly sorry that they opened it. Your security detail insisted on checking it first."

Smiling, I took the small package from him. He left with a final warning for me to be ready in less than five minutes.

As I examined the package, I could see from the torn paper it was a book. Pulling it free of its gold wrapping, I realized it was a beautiful leather-bound copy of Pride and Prejudice .

Richard.

My Mr. Darcy.

Opening the book to see what he had inscribed, it shocked me to see the delicate pages hollowed out. In the space was a small mobile. Curious, I picked up the mobile and pressed the home button.

The screen lit up with a photo of Richard. I recognized the suit as one he had worn two weeks ago. As I looked more closely at his silver silk tie, I could see a large glowing red dot. I flipped to the next photo. It was Richard again. This time at a restaurant meeting with two other gentlemen. He had on a cream cashmere sweater and again… the same glowing red dot. Frantically, I shifted my thumb over the screen.

Photo after photo after photo.

All of Richard.

In meetings, out to dinner with me, even in our home.

All with the same glowing red dot.

Some with text overlays.

He doesn't love you.

You don't deserve him.

He's mine.

You left him once. You'll leave him again.

Run… you don't belong in his world.

I had seen enough action movies to know what that dot meant. It was the laser pointer on a sniper rifle. Someone was targeting Richard.

The next photo was a photo of me… with my face scratched off. Over the photo was the text He's mine with a heart emoji.

The next screen was a video. It was Richard pacing in front of the abbey, dressed in his bespoke Henry Poole tuxedo… taken this morning. This time there were three laser pointers over his heart.

Oh, God, I was going to be sick.

The next was another video. This time a music video, Garbage's ‘#1 Crush.' The creepy strains of the song about obsessive love filled the small antechamber. As the lyrics wormed their way into my brain, I realized they reflected my own obsessive feelings for Richard as much as hers. The idea that I shared empathetic feelings with the woman who obviously wanted me and Richard dead was disturbing and macabre.

Not wanting to hear any more of the song, I flipped to the next photo.

It was Richard again with a large red target. There was another text overlay.

Anytime.

Anywhere.

He's dead.

Leave now… and he lives.

Tell anyone… he dies.

The message was clear. Despite his added security, despite the guards and armored vehicles, this crazy bitch (and I was certain it was the mysterious woman Richard refused to discuss with me) could get at him… and kill him.

The last photo was a picture of the icy blonde I recognized from before at the dressmakers, wearing my wedding dress with the blood-smeared bodice with another text overlay.

If I can't have him… no one will .

Dropping the phone, I pulled at my bodice. I couldn't breathe.

Richard.

My Richard.

My Mr. Darcy.

Intense, intelligent, bigger-than-life, sexy-as-hell Richard.

Dead.

It was too much to even contemplate. This was all too much.

The wedding.

The threats.

Everything… it was too much.

I could feel the panic take hold as my head spun.

I had to get out of here.

Technically, it wasn't running away, not this time. This time I was doing it to save Richard. Whoever this woman was, she had made it clear she would kill Richard if I went through with the wedding. I couldn't let that happen.

I felt lightheaded as I spun in circles in the small anteroom, uncertain what to do next. I had arrived at Westminster already in my wedding gown. I didn't have any other clothes and unlike the time I fled to Paris, I didn't even have a purse with cash to bribe my way across the border.

Maybe I could get ahold of Jane. Maybe she would help me? No. I didn't trust Jane not to tell the media, or worse… Richard.

Scotland! I could hide out in Scotland.

It was just a cheap train ride away and I wouldn't need any identification or passport. Maybe once I was there, I could secretly reach out to Richard and explain to him why I'd had to leave. I knew from snatches of overheard conversations that he was having a hard time tracking down whoever this crazy stalker woman was… maybe when she found out I had left him at the altar she would relax her guard and Richard could catch her.

After that I could come back… if Richard would have me.

If he could forgive me for once more running out on our relationship.

Or maybe, while I was away, he'd have time to think about me… about us. He'd have time to realize how horribly unsuited I was to be his duchess. How I was uncultured and immature compared to the women he had probably dated in the past. I didn't have the poise or family connections everyone expected a bride of a high-ranking duke to have.

Toxic.

That was what I had called our relationship.

Toxic.

At the time I had meant he was toxic for me, but what if it was reversed? Maybe I was toxic for him? Hadn't he said himself when we were on the train to Paris that I tortured him? That I was playing with his mind? That my constant need to have him pursue me for my own validation was driving him mad?

When you really thought about it, Richard brought everything to the relationship… what did I bring? Drama. I had done nothing but cause drama in his life since I had met him.

Looking down at the phone in my hand, I scrolled back to the photo of Richard with the text: Run… you don't belong in his world .

Maybe that was the actual reason he always kept me isolated from the world and his friends and associates… was it possible Richard also thought deep down that I didn't belong?

I loved him and he loved me, but from the very beginning there was no denying there was something dark and sinister about the love we shared. It was too extreme, too twisted, too obsessive. Toxic.

The events at his estate should have been enough of a warning bell to us both. We had gone too far down the rabbit hole… had gotten too caught up in the game. The drama of it. I had gotten so lost I had tried to kill him myself.

Once more I felt a reluctant, disgusting empathy for the woman stalking us both.

These violent delights have violent ends.

Clutching at my stomach, I fell to my knees as I felt the hysteria overwhelm me. Rocking back and forth, I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I didn't know what to do. I was thinking in circles and making everything worse than it already was in my mind.

Once again, I clawed at the tight bodice of my dress. I couldn't breathe. I needed air. I had to get out of here. Awkwardly rising to my feet, I stumbled toward the back entrance to the antechamber. As I reached out a shaking hand for the doorknob, I remembered the guards. I had forgotten about the guards! I would just have to plead wedding jitters to them and beg for a moment alone in the fresh air.

Throwing open the door, it shocked me to see that the very guards I had been worried about were gone.

My head swung left, then right. The hallway was empty.

Something was wrong. The guards should have been here. Something was very wrong.

Oh, God, I couldn't breathe. My fingers gripped at the edge of my wedding dress bodice, pulling on it. I looked down at the mobile still clutched in my other hand.

He doesn't love you.

You don't deserve him.

He's mine.

I couldn't breathe.

You left him once. You'll leave him again.

Run… you don't belong in his world .

I felt sick.

Anytime.

Anywhere.

He's dead.

Leave now… and he lives.

My head spun.

Leave now… and he lives.

My gaze swung left again. Down at the end of the hallway was the door they had brought me through earlier today to avoid the paparazzi who were camped out at the front of the abbey. It led to a small park area along Abingdon Street. I could run through that door and be in a cab before anyone could stop me.

Down the hallway to the right was another door that led to a small chamber next to the high altar… where Richard waited for me… with a target on his chest.

Leave now… and he lives.

Lifting the heavy skirts of my wedding dress high, I ran.