A Wedding Crasher for the Duke (Dukes of Unholy Temptation #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“Are you sure you still wish to do this?” Lord Laurent Harrington asked nervously as he glanced out carriage’s window. “There will be no going back if you do.”

“It is not what I wish to do, but what I must do.” Lady Thalia Harrington joined her older brother in looking out the carriage window; her heart thumped painfully, her stomach churned, and her knees shook with such violence that she worried when the time came that she might not be able to stand up.

“I cannot protect you,” Laurent said.

“I know that, nor am I asking you to.”

“When Damien finds out…”

“I will handle our brother.”

“And the Duke?” Laurent pulled his gaze from outside the carriage and held it on Thalia. There was fear in his eyes, matched by the crack in his voice. “Even if Damien forgives you, there is no telling what His Grace will do.”

“That does not matter.” Thalia focused on the scenery outside the carriage still, refusing to let her mind wander to the inevitable consequences of what she was about to do. “What matters is Rosaline, and I will not let this happen to her. Not if I can stop it.”

Laurent sighed as he took her hand. “You are a good friend.”

Thalia scoffed. “And don’t I know it.”

“And a good sister…” He looked at her knowingly, because they both knew the reason that Laurent was helping her to do this. Reasons that were not as noble as her own, but just as right.

She smiled and squeezed his hand back. “Once I have her, we will need to leave immediately. Make sure the driver is made aware. And that he is ready.”

“Go get her, Thalia.” Laurent took a deep breath as if it gave him strength. “Go save your friend.”

With those words said, there was nothing left to do but that which Thalia had come here for.

She spared a final glance out the window, confirming her target.

Another look of thanks at her brother, because she needed his strength and support to get through today.

Then she threw open the carriage door and climbed outside…

It was cold day for this time of year. Grey clouds sat heavy in the sky. A cool wind whipped across the open pastures of land. And the gentle rumbling of thunder in the distance told of a storm that was about to arrive.

It has arrived already, and may God protect anyone who thinks to try and stop it…

Thalia set her sights on the church that sat at the end of the driveway.

It was a modestly sized parish, chosen specifically because the ceremony taking place through its doors was quickly arranged, and attended to by only a few.

Everyone involved seemed to understand how wrong it was that such a thing was happening, yet nobody thought to try to avert it.

Rather, nobody, save for Thalia, thought to try and stop it.

She hoisted up the skirt of her gown and strode down the driveway, her expression determined, her mind set on the task before her.

She feared what might happen. She was terrified of the consequences; success or failure.

And she was damn certain that this would all but ruin her already tattered reputation beyond repair.

She also did not care.

Thalia’s best friend was set to marry a man who did not love her.

A man who did not even like her. A man who was better off living on an island free from society because men of his ilk brought nothing but pain and misery to all those who they touched.

And Thalia, wasn’t going to sit back and do nothing.

When Thalia reached the closed front doors, she heard immediately voices drifting from inside. Fearing that she might be too late, she did not hesitate to throw the doors open and storm inside.

“Wait!” Thalia cried the second she crossed the threshold. “Stop this ceremony at once!”

Gasps circled through the congregation at Thalia’s bold entrance. They rang across the church, battering at the walls and ceiling, washing down over the guests, and ramming into the groom and his bride-to-be who stood at the altar in the midst of the ceremony.

Thalia found her best friend, Lady Rosaline Fairchild, first. She was dressed in a sky-blue gown, her dark hair was curled, her face was painted with make-up, and her jewelry glimmered.

To some, she might have looked exactly how a bride should look, as this was supposed to be the best day of her life.

Thalia, however, knew better. And one look at her friend told her immediately that she was doing the right thing.

It was her eyes that Thalia focused on first. They shone red and wet from tears. Her chin, too, quivered. And that wasn’t to mention the way that she was standing, with her body withdrawn, shoulders trembling, her entire being rebelling as if she screamed at herself to turn and run.

“Thalia?” Rosaline said in shock. “What are you…” She looked past Thalia and her eyes widened with hope. “Laurent? Is he…?”

“What is the meaning of this?” From the crowd, Rosaline’s father stood suddenly. His face was as red as a tomato, and his body trembled as if he might explode. “Lady Thalia! How dare you!”

Thalia ignored her friend’s father. He did not matter.

The one who mattered, whose attention Thalia focused on, was the man standing beside Rosaline… the Duke of Amberhall.

Thalia had met the man several times already, so she had known what to expect.

He was taller than anyone she knew—not broad and thick of body, but with an iron-strong frame, the stance of a man who might expect mountains to move out of his way.

Dark hair that was thick and wild, sharp features that cut like knives, and deep eyes of gray that were as hollow as they were emotionless.

He fixed those eyes on Thalia and for the first time she questioned if this was such a smart idea.

The Duke said nothing, but that was not a surprise.

Thalia knew him to be a cold, passionless being, reserved in his emotions, precise in his actions, and never one to let someone know what his was thinking.

He controlled people in this way, using them like pawns on a chessboard because in his world, everyone was beneath him, and everyone was there to be used.

Rosaline especially… but no more.

“You don’t have to do this, Rosaline!” Thalia started down the aisle, ignoring the shocked gasps of judgement that came from the crowd. “Come with me! Come with me and we can –”

“She certainly will not!” Rosaline’s father walked onto the aisle. “Rosaline, do not move! And you!” He pointed a finger at Thalia. “Your brother will hear of this!”

“Please, Rosaline…” Thalia was halfway down the aisle, and she held out a hand for her friend to take. “You do not have to do this. Know that you do not.”

“Rosaline…” her father growled.

Hope reached Rosaline’s eyes as she looked from her father to Thalia.

Rosaline was a romantic soul who loved too hard.

She was the type who deserved to be with someone who cared for her, who loved her as she loved them, and who would do anything to see her live a life of happiness like few in this world could ever dream.

A fantasy for some but, when Rosaline already had a love like that in her life, it was a dream worth fighting for.

Thalia never had that luxury. What she did have was experience when it came to witnessing marriages born from propriety and expectation.

Marriages in which there was no love to be found.

Marriages in which the husband was a cold, dispassionate soul who was underserving of the wife he called his own.

She would not let her friend become one of them.

“Rosaline…” Another step forward. “Do not look back.”

Throughout it all, the Duke remained composed.

In fact, he almost appeared bored. He looked from Rosaline to Thalia, disinterest written clear across his face.

Despite the encouraging front she tried to present to her friend, Thalia’s brows drew together in a frown.

Did the Duke even care that someone was attempting to sabotage his wedding? Could he feel surprise, or even anger?

Could he feel anything?

Rosaline turned to him, a silent question on her lips that she seemed unable to ask.

The Duke looked at her plainly. “I will not stop you,” he said, his tone emotionless and distant.

“What?” Rosaline’s father gasped. “You cannot… we had a contract!”

The Duke said nothing, appearing not in the least concerned about the threat. He turned away, a shake of the head, boredom radiating from him as if this was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

“Thalia!” Rosaline raced down the aisle, ignoring her father’s shouts.

“Come on!” Thalia took her friend’s hands. “Let us –”

“Wait,” the Duke spoke suddenly. He did not shout. He did not raise his voice. But his words were like a hammer banging into the side of a gong.

Thalia froze as a spike of fear shot through her spine.

“You may go…” The Duke was facing the two of them, but his gaze was fixed on Thalia. “… but there will be consequences for this. Know that there will be.”

Thalia stared wide-eyed at the Duke.

She felt his threat in her soul, wrapping it and squeezing so that she could hardly breathe from the pressure. He did not look angry. He did not appear upset. But he was as serious as a knife in the dark, and that was enough to terrify.

“Thalia…” Rosaline shook her back into the room. “Please.”

Thalia forced herself to look away and then, still holding her friend’s hand, she pulled her down the aisle and free of the church.

All the while, she could feel the Duke watching her…

“Laurent!” Rosaline cried once they were outside. “I knew you would come!”

Laurent stood by the coach and the smile he wore was enough to tell Thalia that she had done the right thing.

And when he laughed and ran for the two of them, his arms wrapping around Rosaline who was already weeping, Thalia was able to forget for a moment the threat that had just been leveled at her.

This is why I did it. It’s not for me. It’s not because I want to be a hero or enjoy creating anarchy. It’s because true love in this world is so hard to find, so why not do everything that I can do so that the two people who I care for might experience it?

It was more than Thalia would ever have, anyway.

They were quick to climb into the carriage after that, by which point the church had started to empty. The dozen or so people who attended the wedding poured out, more gasps and bewildered cries uttered when they saw the bride escaping.

Thalia looked out of the window as the carriage pulled away.

She saw the Duke a final time, standing in the doorway, watching the carriage go.

He did not smile, nor did he look angry or upset.

It was as if he was barely affected by the events of today, as if things of this nature were not worth concerning himself about.

“I knew you would come!” Rosaline had her arms around Laurent, and she kissed him on the cheek a dozen times. “I knew it. I knew it.”

“You can thank Thalia,” Laurent laughed as he held Rosaline. “She is the reason.”

“No,” Thalia said. “You are the reason. Both of you. Just do me a favor, yes?”

“Anything!” Rosaline cried.

“Make it count,” she said. Her eyes prickled with tears she would not allow to fall. “Make it count.”

The first stop after the wedding was Rosaline’s estate, where they spent several minutes because it took some time to pull her out of Laurent’s arms.

“I will come see you tomorrow,” he promised her. “And your father and I will have a very serious conversation.”

“But what if he –”

“This time, I will not take no for an answer.”

Once they left Rosaline behind, the mood inside the carriage changed dramatically. As wonderful as Thalia was feeling, she was intensely aware of what awaited her when she arrived home.

Indeed, as the carriage pulled into the estate and started down the driveway, the consequences began to descend upon her.

Above them, the sky darkened, the encroaching storm arrived, and heavy rain began to fall as wind lashed at the sides of the carriage.

A coldness swept over Thalia’s body so that she started to shake.

“I will be there for you,” Laurent assured her. “If we stand together, Damien cannot –”

“No,” she cut him off. “I did this, Laurent, not you.”

“That is not true.”

“It is,” she said seriously. “Let him be angry with me. At least that way, he will be more willing to let you marry Rosaline. He might even fight for it.”

Laurent smiled softly and took her hand. “If there is ever anything I can do…”

The gesture was needed, and it worked well to ease Thalia’s growing worry. Or rather, it did, until she looked out the window and gasped.

Standing at the front door, in the rain, glaring daggers at the approaching carriage, was Lord Damien Harrington, the Duke of Wexford and Thalia’s older brother.

Rarely did Damien allow himself to rise to anger, preferring detachment and cold precision as a means to get what he wanted and to keep his family in line.

Thalia was not scared of him. She knew that he would not hurt her or do anything that she needed to be afraid of. And yet, to look at him now, to see the anger in his eyes, the way his body was trembling from rage, she could not help but wonder if in this instance, she had gone too far.