Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
“She is late,” Marco said, looking at his timepiece as he paced at the front of the church.
“It is not uncommon. Why, it is practically tradition for a bride to be late,” Beatrice said lightly.
She and Giovanni kept him company as the guests shifted restlessly in their seats.
The ton was out in full force with their judgmental stares and whispers.
People were already muttering that perhaps the Fitzroy heiress had finally seen sense and abandoned the Italian at the altar.
Marco could feel sweat gathering at the back of his neck and wished he could throw everyone out of the church who was not immediate family.
“I would prefer it that she did not adhere to tradition in this,” he muttered, averting his eyes from the likes of Lord Fife. The man glared at him with a rudeness that would only make sense if he genuinely was a jilted lover rather than a man who lost a very unsavory wager.
“You seem uncharacteristically worried,” Giovanni commented quietly, standing in front of Marco so that his face was blocked from the congregation.
“Is that not traditional for a groom?” Marco quipped, trying to hide some of his alarm.
“It is unusual for you,” Giovanni pressed, lowering his voice. "Why are you so worried?”
Marco sighed and turned his back on the congregation so that no one would read his lips, and only Giovanni and Beatrice would hear him.
“I told her the truth,” he whispered. “About her father.”
“How did she take it?” Beatrice whispered back, gripping her husband’s forearm with her own worry.
“She… was distressed, but she… said she would still marry me,” Marco said, stumbling for words to adequately describe their discussion.
He did not touch on the passionate interlude that had taken place in the grass following it or how he had poured his heart out to her.
Perhaps she had decided to reject his love.
“You think she has changed her mind?” Giovanni asked shrewdly.
“I think it possible,” Marco said quietly. He did not want to dwell on it.
The angry words Alice had said to him echoed in his mind. She said he was the worst kind of traitor who had betrayed her trust. Maybe she felt that she could not trust him after all.
“If she agreed to marry you knowing the truth, it seems unlikely she would so quickly change her mind,” Beatrice said kindly, but Marco could not be comforted by it.
He remembered Alice's tears, her distrust, her words of fury.
She accused him of being worse than the other men who pursued her for financial gain.
Perhaps she had thought more about it and decided he was not worth the trouble.
“Here is the Dowager,” Beatrice whispered as Alice’s mother walked up the aisle towards him, a frown on her face. Marco’s stomach dropped. He feared this would be when he would be told that Alice had abandoned him. He didn't think he could bear to hear it.
“Something is wrong. My daughter has not yet arrived,” the Dowager Duchess said without preamble.
“Is it possible that she has changed her mind?” Giovanni questioned delicately, and Marco was surprised when she rounded on Gio with a deep scowl.
“Absolutely not,” she snapped, throwing him a glance as if he were a fool of the highest order, before fixing her gaze on Marco. “She told me just this morning that she was overjoyed to be marrying you, Mr. Alegria."
Her words were like a sudden balm to his heart, and he swayed, ever so slightly, with relief. Giovanni’s firm hand landed on his shoulder to steady him. “Careful, cousin,” Giovanni muttered. “Do not show the ton that anything is amiss.”
“Indeed, they are nothing but vultures,” the Dowager sneered, even though her face remained perfectly pleasant. “Something terrible must have occurred. Beth arrived with the other servants and said she put Alice into her carriage and saw it leave but did not see it on the road here."
Giovanni and Marco looked at one another sharply. They both had the same thought. Alice was wealthy and had been much sought after for the dukedom she would bestow upon her son. Someone might have wished to stop the wedding for their own gain.
“Go,” Beatrice said, gently shoving Marco and Giovanni up the aisle. “Search the streets and find her. The Dowager and I will take care of things here."
“Thank you, Beatrice,” Marco said, walking quickly down the aisle with Giovanni at his side, ignoring the outbreak of mutterings as he stepped out of the church. He was surprised to see William with Beth in the churchyard. The boy was speaking rapidly and gesturing wildly.
“William, why are you here? You made your anger over this wedding clear,” Marco called, striding forwards. William quickly removed his cap as Beth bobbed a curtsey.
“I had to come. I saw something...” William started, his eyes full of discomfort.
“Tell him,” Beth prompted, nudging his shoulder.
“Speak up, young man,” Giovanni said so sternly it brooked no opposition.
“I was walking down the street, and I saw Miss Fitzroy in her carriage,” William said, twisting his cap in his hands as he looked up at Marco imploringly.
“It was queer. She looked very distressed and seemed to shout something at me as she passed.
Then I saw an older man pull her back from the window. "
“Someone has taken her, Mr. Alegria,” Beth said tearfully. “Oh, why did I not ride with her?"
“Who could it be?” Giovanni asked, ignoring the maid's laments.
“I cannot say, but I fear the worst,” Marco said, his voice tight in his throat as his mind whirred with the new information.
“Did you recognize the man?” Giovanni asked William, who shook his head.
“No, sir. But I did follow them and know which house they went to," William said.
“Take me there,” Marco said determinedly.
“Yes, sir,” William nodded vigorously.
“Beth, you need come to with us. Once I know where we are going, you will come back and tell the marquess,” Marco said before turning to Giovanni. “Gio, can...”
“Go,” Giovanni said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Beatrice and I shall deal with everything here, and I will await your word.”
Marco nodded and began to run to his carriage, William and Beth following behind him, all of them clambering into the carriage. William leaned his head out the window to shout directions to the confused coachman.
“Thank you, William,” Marco said as they rumbled through the streets at high speed.
“I know I spoke harshly about her, sir, but I could not let anything happen to the lady if I could stop it. If nothing else, my father would have wanted me to help,” William said gruffly.
Marco felt a swell of affection for Thomas’ son despite his fear and worry.
“He would be proud of you, William,” Marco said, trying to hide the emotion in his voice.
Before the boy could respond, Beth, who had been watching their progress out the window, said, “I think I know where we are going. This is the street Sir Hackman lives on."
Marco felt his heart thump with rage, knowing that Hackman had abducted Alice. He would tear the man apart if he had harmed her in any way. He slammed his hand on the carriage's roof and shouted for the driver to stop.
He was out of the coach before it had fully stopped. "Go back to the church and tell them everything. Have the marquess bring a constable. Hackman's intentions are not good, and we will need the authorities," Marco instructed.
Beth nodded, but William jumped out of the coach. “I will stay with you,” he said firmly.
"No, I will not take you into danger, William," Marco said. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Thomas' son. But William just told the driver to go and started off down the street.
“My father would not have let you do this alone,” William called over his shoulder. “And neither will I.”
“Are you planning to kill me?” Alice asked boldly as Hackman pushed her into a chair in his drawing room, which looked even worse since she was last there with the wallpaper peeling and almost all the furnishings gone.
Though she was terrified that he might answer in the affirmative, Alice felt sure it would be better to know what to expect.
Despite her fear, her rational mind began to take over.
A chill spread through her chest as it did when faced with society's harsh glares.
She was numbing herself into the Ice Queen to keep him from seeing her distress.
“Kill you?” Hackman laughed, pointing the pistol at her casually. “Oh, nothing so untidy as that. I am going to marry you. My man is fetching a vicar as we speak and I managed to procure a special license without anyone knowing."
Alice’s stomach lurched with disgust. Being married to him would be a fate worse than death, but her revulsion did not show on her face. Nothing but apathy did. "Indeed. This is undoubtedly the worst proposal I have yet had to endure."
"You think your wit makes you charming, but it only makes you look like an uncultured shrew." His hateful stare bore into her, but Alice refused to flinch.
He had meant to hurt her, but she was inured to such insults.
Nothing he could say could be worse than what she heard in her childhood.
His taunts did nothing but cause her to stare at him defiantly with her back straight.
His opinion of her meant nothing when she had the regard of a man like Marco.
"I am surprised you would wish to wed someone you care so little for. Not that it matters, for I will not marry you," she declared. Hackman laughed loudly, the pistol lowering a bit. Alice could breathe a little easier without it pointed straight at her heart.
“Oh, feelings do not factor into things at all. No one could care for a dirty little bastard like you."
“So it is for money.” Alice sighed, looking around the impoverished room. “How did you lose all of yours? Gambling? Whores?"
"You think to scorn me when I have done nothing that every other gentleman of my station has done?" Hackman snarled, gesturing with the pistol. “I am entitled to wealth and power by my birth."