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 handsballing 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.
CHAPTER 23
“Sister, are you certain you are alright?” Tristan’s voice cut through the muffled sounds of the carriage, pulling Cecilia from her turbulent thoughts. She could feel other brother’s gaze on her too, filled with concern, but the weight of her heartache made it hard to meet their eyes.
Taking a deep breath, she nodded and continued to stare out the small window behind her, watching the blurred scenery of trees and fields pass by, unable to shake the memory of Alistair’s seldom smile and laughter, their shared moments in his estate, and the inexplicable look in his eyes as she departed that morning.
“You could talk to us, you know,” Nathaniel’s voice echoed gently, concern etched into the tone.
