CHAPTER 29
It was as Marcus sat over Lucy’s sleeping body, as he prayed for her to recover, as he pictured in his head all the awful things that he had done to her since they married, that he came to realize his true feelings.
No… he had always known them. Rather, what he decided during those long days was that he was ready to accept them. For too long, he had run from himself, denying who he wanted to be and what he wished for from this life. He used his past to justify it, he leaned into his own trauma as if it was a shield to protect himself with.
That time was finished now. The old Marcus was a thing of the past. He looked forward to a future with James, where he might see his adopted son grow into a man. He looked forward to a life he would spend with Lucy, his wife, she who he was falling in love with. And most of all, he looked forward to what might just be a happy ending. Not something he thought he ever deserved, but something he now wanted more than anything.
Not yet… just because I am ready for it, does not mean that Lucy is. She is yet to trust me again, for which I cannot blame her. What I must do is give her a reason…
This mantra was repeated by Marcus as he set his sights on Lord and Lady Whitcombe’s townhouse, positioned at the end of the street on a small cul-de-sac. He rode his horse steadily down the street, he repeated again and again why he was doing this and who he was doing it for, and he used that to give him strength.
Lucy wanted proof of his feelings for her. And not just his feelings, but that he was willing to do anything he must to make them so. That he was in this relationship one hundred percent, and that from it there would be no going back.
Today is the day, the final task, and my final chance to prove not just to Lucy what I want, but to myself. I can do this… for me, for Lucy, for James.
So it was that when he reached the townhouse, he tied his horse out the front, strode up the steps, and knocked loudly on the door.
A second later and it swung open.
“I am here to see Lord Wembley and Lady and Lord Whitcombe,” he announced to the footman.
“I…” He blinked as he took Marcus in. “I am afraid that Lord and Lady Whitcombe are busy, my lord. Might I take a message?”
“I know that they are busy,” he said. “Why do you think that I am here? And it is not my lord…” He looked sternly at the footman. “It is Your Grace.”
The footman’s face paled with realization. “Yo – Your Grace, forgive me, place.” He bowed deeply. “I did not know –”
“I am sure you did not,” he cut the footman off. “Now that you do, I expect to be shown inside at once.”
The footman swallowed. “I would love to, Your Grace, truly, nothing would please me more. Only, Lord and Lady Whitcombe are –”
“Busy, yes, I know,” he cut the man off. “With Lord Wembley. As luck has it, I also wish to speak with him. Hence, why I am here.” He looked down at the footman, his expression severe, giving the server nowhere to hide or to run.
“Might I…” He shook violently. “Might I check first, Your Grace?”
“Very well,” Marcus said. “However, if you are not back in two minutes exactly, I will be coming inside. Is that understood?”
The footman’s face paled further and he closed the door. Once it was closed, Marcus began to count down. He meant what he said, that if pushed, he would knock this door down and stride inside. Not that this was something he wished to do, as he had planned for a softer approach in this instance.
However, if I sense that Lord Wembley is trying to avoid me… there is nowhere he might run that can save him.
Luckily, it never came to that. One minute after the door closed and it opened again, this time wider, with the footman stepping to the side so that Marcus could walk through.
“They are in the morning room, Your Grace,” he said. “Please, allow me to show you.”
“Thank you.” Marcus stepped inside.
The footman hurried forward, and Marcus followed him through the home. It was nowhere near as large as his own townhouse, but it was well decorated, rich, and surprisingly warm. Knowing the type of childhood that Lucy had suffered through, he half expected the home to have a coldness about it, as if warning him that he was not welcome.
A moment later and Marcus was led into the morning room.
Lord and Lady Whitcombe were there, as expected. They sat together on a couch under the window. Across from them sat their daughter, Lady Amelia, while beside her was Lord Wembley.
Upon Marcus’ arrival, they each looked up, the expressions on their faces a mixture of curiosity, surprise, and outright fear… mostly Amelia’s, of course, as she must have understoodimmediately why Marcus was here. Indeed, her face paled and she looked away.
“Your Grace!” Lord Whitcombe jumped to his feet and crossed the room. “This is a most unexpected surprise.” He reached Marcus and extended an arm to shake. “Albeit a pleasant one.”
“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” Marcus said as he took the man’s arm. “I might have sent ahead, but sadly this could not wait. And I thought a surprise would suit the occasion.”
