Page 137 of The Betrothal

Alex ignored him. “Seb?” His concern was evident.

“I know, Alex, but I need trust-fund-Teddy to let go of her and I’m trying not to make anything worse,” Seb whispered fiercely. “Izzy, honey?”

He beckoned but I couldn’t move, Teddy’s grip too strong.

“Teddy,” I begged. “Please?”

“Shut up, Isabelle,” he snarled quietly before raising his voice. “You two, get the fuck out!”

“No!” I cried weakly, yanking fruitlessly against Teddy’s hold.

He dragged me away from Alex and Seb.

“That’s enough!” Alex bellowed. “You!” He stormed towards Teddy, climbing the steps. He towered over him. “Release her.”

Teddy scoffed before he stilled at the danger that rippled off Alex and the absence of back-up – all his groomsmen having scattered away.

“Who the hell are you?” Father roared.

My pulse began to thunder. Finally, I was coming back to life!

“I am Frederick Alexander Cavendish the Second.” Alex paused as the room broke out into murmuring. “And you…” Alex snarled as the noise dissipated, pointing from Teddy to my father. “You abducted my goddamned wife.”

Teddy’s arms slackened and I was torn from his hold, the sickening thud of Alex’s thrown fist the last thing I heard as I fell into Seb’s embrace.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

ALEXANDER

He hit the floor, hard. The gasps and cries of the friends and family behind me centred my mind briefly.

I swung to face them while Theodore Fairchild gathered his bearings on the floor.

Isabelle lay unconscious in Seb’s arms, the sight building a furnace of hot rage inside me. A woman rushed from the stage, speaking urgently to Seb and running her hands over Isabelle.

“Edmund.” I spoke calmly, aghast spectators waiting for my next move. “As I requested, I would prefer we discussed this in private. What started as a terrible misunderstanding is now an extremely public affair, one that will do none of us any good.”

Her father looked exactly like he once had. I hadn’t met him many times as a teen, but I was the spitting image of my father and there was no way he didn’t recognise me. It must have just taken him a second longer than it should have.

And now, his son-in-law-to-be was knocked on his ass with his nose bloodied, and his daughter was being carried from the church by a stranger. One who I suspect, were he not carrying the love of his life, would be breaking more noses.

“She and you,” her father blustered quietly. “You can’t be!”

“I’ll happily give you more details, in private,” I emphasised.

He gaped at me and I used the moment to address the onlookers.

“Isabelle and I were married, following a terrible storm after she was lost in Kent. We fell in love, it was unforeseen, and with our families’ shared history.” I swung my attention to her father, my meaning not veiled. “I knew that we could move past the suddenness. While it would still be a terrible wrench for the Fairchilds–” Archibald Fairchild opened his mouth to speak but I silenced him with a single glance. “I knew you wouldn’t deny your daughter’s love.”

Edmund’s shock turned to fury, so briefly most people would miss it, then he mastered his reaction in a way only a politician could do.

“Archi,” he addressed Theodore’s family. “Teddy, let’s retire to my home.”

He rose to the platform and raised his hands, the congregation quietening immediately in response.

“Dearest family and friends, I beg your forgiveness for today’s events. Please, go on to the reception, eat and drink, and celebrate the marriage. Though not the marriage we anticipated I am sure the open bar will soothe your disappointment.”

The crowd murmured, but Edmund didn’t wait to listen to it. Following Seb and Isabelle’s bridesmaid as they stormed from the church.