Page 12 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

"There will be a wedding today!" Geoffrey roared, turning upon the vicar. "You have a contract before you!"

"And I have a Duke that has just claimed ownership over this woman," the vicar replied firmly. "I will not proceed."

Geoffrey argued for several minutes, growing increasingly furious as the vicar refused to change his position.

Finally, he turned towards Margaret with a murderous glare. "This is not finished," he snarled. "I shall take the matter to court."

Margaret said nothing as he stormed from the church, the heavy doors slamming behind him.

Silence descended once more. Pierce turned towards Margaret. She was smiling.

Not the nervous smile she had worn at the masquerade, but a genuine one, bright with relief and amusement.

"That was quite a performance," she said, looking him over with an expression that was dangerously close to teasing. "I must admit, Your Grace, you were magnificent."

Pierce allowed the faintest smile to touch his mouth. He stepped closer, lowering his voice so that only she could hear him. "Do not become too pleased with yourself. This is not over yet."

Her smile faltered. "What do you mean?"

"I shall see you tomorrow."

Margaret blinked. "For what?"

"I shall explain soon."

She studied him suspiciously.

Pierce's gaze moved briefly over her gown, taking in the fine embroidery and the delicate lace at her sleeves. "For what it is worth," he murmured, "you look remarkably delicious in that dress."

A flush crept into Margaret's cheeks.

Pierce found himself unexpectedly pleased by it.

"I shall throw this wedding gown away at the first opportunity," she declared, looking down at the dress with renewed irritation. "I never wish to see it again."

"Do not hurry," Pierce replied.

Margaret looked up at him, puzzled. "Why? I do not understand."

His eyes held hers. "You will."

Then he walked out of the church.

* * *

That evening, Margaret sat with her sisters in the parlour at Lempster House, still wearing the expression of a woman who could scarcely believe she had escaped her own wedding.

The events of the morning seemed almost impossible when viewed from the safety of the familiar room, yet every time Margaret closed her eyes, she could still see Geoffrey's furious face and Pierce Sterling standing at the church doors as though he had been summoned by fate itself.

She ought to have been frightened by the duke's intervention, and perhaps she was, but beneath the confusion was an undeniable sense of relief. For the first time in days, she could breathe without feeling that a noose was tightening around her future.

"What do you think the Duke meant, that you are promised to him?" Iris asked.

"I do not know, but there is something about the duke's expression that I did not like," Margaret admitted, curling one leg beneath her as she sat upon the sofa.

Iris and Camelia both looked towards her, their expressions serious. "When he said that he would see me tomorrow, he looked as though he knew something I did not." She frowned, remembering his strange confidence. "I have no idea what that means, but he is certainly up to something. Still, I want to leave all of this behind me, and for the moment I am free. He rescued me, so I suppose I am willing to comply with whatever he wishes to discuss."

She paused and allowed herself a small smile. "Besides, I am convinced my reckless plan worked."