Andrea Kane (23 page)

“Harwick—” the vicar began.

“Shut up!” Tragmore’s head snapped around, his eyes blazing with rage. “How dare you encourage my daughter to disobey me? You, who presume to call yourself a man of the cloth? If I have my way you’ll lose your parish, your home,
and
your reputation.”

“Father, no!” Daphne shook her head emphatically. “The vicar has done nothing. ’Twas my idea to visit the children, not his.”

“Get in the carriage,” Tragmore bit out through clenched teeth. “I’ll deal with your vicar later.”

Daphne’s whole body began to tremble.

“Did you hear me? Get in that carriage!” He grabbed her arm, twisting it violently as he dragged her with him.

A cry of pain escaped Daphne’s lips.

“Let her go, Tragmore.”

Pierce’s voice sliced the air like a bullet.

“Pierce?” Daphne’s head whipped around, and she stared at him, stunned.

“Well, Your Grace, why am I not surprised to find you here as well?” The marquis made no move to relinquish his punishing grip.

“I don’t think you heard me.” Pierce advanced toward him, predatory hatred glinting in his eyes. “I said take your filthy hands off Daphne.”

Tragmore’s lip curled in a snarl. “You audacious bastard. How dare you interfere. This,” he jerked Daphne’s arm, eliciting another muted cry of pain, “is my daughter. I’ll deal with her in whatever manner I choose.”

Liked a coiled viper, Pierce struck, lunging forward, his fist cracking into Tragmore’s jaw. “Not any more, you won’t.”

“Pierce, don’t!” Falling free of her father’s hold, Daphne regained her balance in time to see Harwick retaliate. Charging at Pierce, he swung violently, his fist aimed at Pierce’s jaw.

The blow never found its mark.

Pierce caught Tragmore’s arm, simultaneously slamming his own fist into the marquis’s gut—once, twice, three times. Dragging air into his lungs, he watched Tragmore fold at his feet. “Get up, you son of a bitch. Get up and find out what a gutter rat does best.”

“Pierce!” Daphne blocked Pierce’s path, beseeching him in the instant before the marquis rose. “Don’t do this.”

Ignoring Daphne entirely, Pierce stood rigid, staring down at Tragmore and awaiting his next onslaught. The venom darkening his gaze from forest green to nearly black was blistering in its intensity, but somehow Daphne was not afraid. Instinctively she knew Pierce was somewhere else, somewhere far away, and it was up to her to bring him back.

“Pierce!” She gripped his lapels, shaking him. “Please,” she added in a wrenching whisper.

Slowly, he glanced down, seeming to see her for the first time. “Daphne.” He reached out, touched her arm. “Are you all right?”

That brief contact seemed to infuse the marquis with renewed ire. Gasping, he shoved himself to his feet. “Don’t lay one lowlife finger on my daughter.” He thrust Daphne aside, unsteadily preparing to deliver his next punch.

“Stop it, Father.” Daphne stepped between them.

“Stand aside, Daphne,” he shot back.

“No.”

Tragmore’s eyes bulged. “You dare defy me?” he thundered.

“Yes.” Her chin came up. “I dare defy you.”

“Why you insolent—”

“Strike her and you’re a dead man, Tragmore.” Pierce’s voice was lethally quiet. “Not just now, but ever. As of today, Daphne is no longer your concern or your victim.”

“I’m her father, you odious bastard.”

“And I’m her husband.”

The proclamation erupted like thunder, a deadly silence hovering in its wake.

“You’re lying,” Harwick spat at last.

“No, Harwick, he’s not. I married them today. In my church.”

The vicar’s false declaration jolted through Daphne, and she jerked about, staring at him in amazement.

Utterly composed, he continued addressing the marquis. “Now cease this violence at once. It will accomplish nothing.”

“You married—” Tragmore was still reeling. “Who else was present at this farce of a wedding?”

Another silence.

“Elizabeth.” Harwick abruptly answered his own question. “So that’s what my faithless wife was desperate to keep from me, damn her. Well, I’ll deal with her first. Then I’ll have this bloody marriage annulled.”

“No, Father, you won’t,” Daphne heard herself say. “The decision was mine, and I’ve made it. Neither threats nor violence can alter that fact.”

Tragmore’s fists clenched and unclenched. “We’ll see about that,” he ground out through gritted teeth. Abruptly, he turned, climbed into his carriage, and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

“Mama,” Daphne murmured, gripping Pierce’s sleeve in alarm.

“I’ll have her out of the manor before Tragmore arrives home.”

“But he’s already on his way.”

“I’m faster. Trust me.”

Daphne looked up at him through bewildered eyes. “I have no idea what just happened.”

The lines of fury on Pierce’s face eased, a corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “I believe you just accepted my marriage proposal.”

“Evidently, I did.” She turned to the vicar. “You lied. Blatantly. You’ve never done that before.”

“Nor have I done so now. I merely told Harwick I married you and the duke today in my church. Which I fully intend to do, just as soon as the duke returns from Tragmore with your mother.” Chambers frowned. “If Harwick should reach Elizabeth first—”

“He won’t.” Pierce was in motion again. “My mount is just beyond those trees. I’ll ride through the woods, bypassing the village and traveling as the crow flies. I’ll beat Tragmore by a good quarter hour. I’ll meet you at the church with the marchioness. Now go.” He vanished into the cluster of trees.

A moment later, the sound of galloping hooves and snapping twigs reached Daphne’s ears. Then, silence.

“Your savior, I believe you said. A most accurate description.” The vicar nodded with satisfaction. “He’s a fine man, Snowdrop. You’ve chosen well.”

“My husband.” Daphne shook her head dazedly. “Is this really happening?”

“Indeed it is. And I suggest we hasten to the church in order to make what limited arrangements we can. Although,” tenderly, he patted her cheek, “regardless of what we do, you will be the most beautiful of brides.” He cast a worried glance toward the woods. “I only pray your Pierce reaches Elizabeth before it’s too late.”

“He will.” A smile of infinite wonder played about Daphne’s lips. “Pierce always answers prayers.”

T
HE LAST RAYS OF
daylight had just disappeared from view when the church door burst open.

“Daphne.” Hastening forward, Elizabeth embraced her daughter, who was alone and pacing in the empty church.

“Mama, are you all right?”

“Yes, now that I’ve seen you.” The marchioness anxiously searched Daphne’s face. “I was so worried.”

Daphne’s gaze met Pierce’s as he entered the room. “Thank you.”

He nodded soberly. “My pleasure.”

“Tell me what happened,” Elizabeth demanded. “Your father was wild with rage when he went looking for you. Mr. Thornton—pardon me—His Grace said they came to blows. He also said you wanted me with you; that the two of you are about to be married.”

“Are you shocked?”

“By the marriage? No. Only by the urgency.” Despite her emotional turmoil, Elizabeth smiled. “As you recall, I already knew what your decision would be.”

Hearing that, Pierce’s brows rose, a self-satisfied grin curving his lips. “I’m delighted to learn you’d decided in my favor.”

“Did you doubt it?” Daphne asked softly.

“At moments, yes.”

Glancing from her daughter to Pierce, Elizabeth asked, “Where did Harwick find you and what happened?”

“You’d better sit down, Mama,” Daphne replied. She drew her mother to a pew, lowering herself beside her. “Father thinks Pierce and I are already wed.”

Elizabeth started. “Why would he think that?”

“Possibly because I told him so,” Pierce supplied.

“But why?” Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide with fear. “Did he find you and Daphne together?”

“It was worse than that,” Daphne murmured. “He found me at the schoolhouse. I’d just returned from completing the errand you and I had discussed.” She gave her mother a meaningful look. “I stopped in the village, first to visit the vicar, then the children. I was on my way to Tragmore when Father appeared, enraged. Pierce interceded. One thing led to another, and—” She broke off, inclining her head quizzically in Pierce’s direction. “How did you arrive on the scene when you did?”

“I followed you.”

“From the church?”

“From London.”

“From London?” Daphne gasped. “How did you know?”

“I traveled to Tragmore at dawn, as promised. Your mother said you were out. I went to Town to conduct some business, intending to return to your father’s estate later today. I happened to spy you as your carriage left London for Northampton. As you know, I was eager for your answer to my marriage proposal. So I followed you. I arrived at the church in time to see you and the vicar depart. Knowing how you feel about the village children, it wasn’t difficult to determine your destination. So, I acted on instinct and rode to the school. Fortunately, my instinct was right.”

A warm glow lit Daphne’s eyes. “Isn’t it always?”

“Most times, yes.”

“Daphne,” Elizabeth interjected, “what incited the duke to lie to your father? What did Harwick do to you?”

Daphne shuddered. “It isn’t what he did to me, it’s what he intended to do. I’ve never seen him so angry. Then, when Pierce informed him we were already wed, he went berserk. He seemed to believe we were all part of some conspiracy. He took off for Tragmore—to thrash you and to have my marriage annulled.”

“So that’s why you dragged me away so swiftly,” Elizabeth realized aloud, looking at Pierce with a mixture of gratitude and fear. “I thank you, sir. But it won’t help. Eventually, I have to return to Tragmore and Harwick’s wrath.”

“No. You don’t.” Pierce shook his head. “Along with my title, I’ve acquired five enormous, currently unoccupied estates. Take your choice. You have only to move in. I’ll arrange the rest.”

A twinge of hope flickered, then died. “Harwick will find me.”

“I’m certain he will. But he’ll never get past the men I have guarding the property.” Pierce’s lips quirked. “There are distinct advantages to growing up in the streets. One meets the most resourceful people.”

“But the law says—”

“One also learns to ignore the law, if need be.”

Elizabeth’s mouth snapped shut. “I—Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Pierce,” he amended. “After all, within the hour we’ll be family. I believe a touch of informality would be in order.”

The door at the head of the church opened. “Snowdrop, the license is now in order. I’ve also managed to amass an ample supply of wildflowers for your bouquet and enough candles to bathe the church in a suitably reverent glow.” The vicar came to a halt. “Elizabeth.” He came forward in a rush. “Are you all right?”

She smiled a smile that, for once, reached her eyes. “It’s wonderful to see you, Alfred. And yes, I’m quite well. Thanks to the duke—Pierce.”

“And to God,” the vicar murmured, scrutinizing Elizabeth as if to ensure himself of her safety. At last, he drew a slow, inward breath and glanced past her to Daphne and Pierce. “Let’s proceed with the wedding then, shall we?”

With a flourish, he opened his book. “Dearly beloved…”

Ageless words, timeless in duration, poignant in significance.

Daphne felt her hands tremble, heard the quiver in her voice as she recited her vows. A gamut of emotions engulfed her all at once: awe, disbelief, excitement, wonder.

But never doubt. And never fear.

Not with Pierce.

The vicar paused, having reached that portion of the ceremony involving the ring. “I nearly forgot,” he murmured to himself. Digging into his pocket, he extracted a dainty silver band, two narrow circles endlessly entwined. “Given the unplanned urgency of this ceremony, I assume you hadn’t time to shop,” he began, the tremor in his voice belying the frivolity of his words. His gaze fell on the delicate scrap of silver in his hands, and he abandoned all pretense. “This ring means a great deal to me.” He cleared his throat roughly. “I’ve kept it safe for years, somehow knowing it would one day be needed for just the right purpose. That day has arrived.” He extended the ring to Pierce. “Please. It would be my pleasure, no, my privilege, if you would seal your vows by placing this band on Daphne’s finger.”

Visibly moved, Pierce accepted the clergyman’s gift.

“Thank you, Vicar,” Daphne whispered, wiping tears from her cheeks, vaguely aware of her mother’s quiet weeping. “Not only is the ring lovely and symbolic but, as it comes from you, it’s value is immeasurable.” She turned to Pierce and placed her hand in his, watching as he slid the band onto her fourth finger. Slowly, she raised her gaze to meet her new husband’s.

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” she heard the vicar proclaim.

A profound silence permeated the room.

Tenderly, Pierce cupped Daphne’s face, and she was stunned to feel his hands tremble as he bent to brush her lips with his. “You’re mine now, Snow flame,” he said in a breath of a whisper. “No one will ever hurt you again.” Straightening, he extended his hand to the vicar”

“Thank you. You’re all Daphne claimed and more.”

“I return the compliment.” The vicar clasped Pierce’s hand warmly. “I wish you a lifetime of joy.” He kissed Daphne atop her head. “Be happy, Snowdrop.”

Daphne hugged him, then her mother, feeling utterly light-headed and disoriented.

“Go,” Chambers said, seeing the dazed look in her eyes. “You and your new husband need time together.”

“Mama?” Daphne turned to her mother.

“We’ll take your mother to Markham,” Pierce answered. “Until I can make other arrangements, she’ll be safest there.”

“Oh, no.” Elizabeth shook her head, still dabbing at her eyes. “I won’t impose. Not tonight. It’s your wedding night.”

Pierce grinned. “You won’t be imposing. I’ll leave you in my staff’s capable hands, giving them strict instructions to advise all visitors that no one is home and no guests are permitted. Then, Daphne and I will travel on to my house in Wellingborough.”